There was a police sergeant at the desk, and he jumped to his feet when he saw me.
“I’m Clayton,” I gasped. “Did Captain Peters ’phone you? They’re after me and they’re just outside. They took a shot at me. Where’s the lieutenant?” I jumped the barrier and went round to his side. “Where’s Collins?”
Whatever criticism may be leveled at the police, they’re good men in an emergency, all of them. “Get behind the desk, sir. It’s all right. You’re safe now. Yes, the captain ’phoned. Collins isn’t——”
He broke off, for at that moment the door burst open and three men came in. One of them I recognized at once as Vining. The others looked like New York men about town. Vining gave me one quick glance. And the concentrated determination in it made me realize that I was as near death at that moment as I had ever been.
“Get out your gun! I haven’t got one!” I whispered to the sergeant just before Vining spoke.
“Good! That’s the man! Good-evening, Sergeant!” He took a step or two in our direction. “I want that man with you. I have been after this fellow for a long time for robbing my flat. But he’s as slippery as an eel. However, I’m glad you caught him at last. I have a warrant for his arrest, and I’ll take him with me now if you please.”
I saw the sergeant’s hand steal under the desk and close on the butt of a heavy police revolver.
“That’s right, sir,” he answered. “He’s just given himself up. I was going to lock him up when you came in. Just got orders to do so. He’ll be here when you want him, sir.”
Vining came a step closer, laughing. “But I want him now, Sergeant: I’m not going to take any more chances on his getting away. I want him where I can watch him myself.”
The sergeant’s hand reached out and fell on the bell on his desk, “Can’t do that, sir. I have orders to lock him up.”