“Sure, sor,” he panted, as we fled down the last flight, “they’ll kill each other entirely if we do but lave thim to ut!”
“Maybe,” I answered, “but they’ll rouse the whole place about our ears. We’ve got to get out of here—and quick!”
The headlights of my car were burning faithfully down the street, and as we hurried toward it, I noticed another, larger car a little farther down, across the street and facing the other way. It had not been there when we came. As we came out from the shadow of the house next door a figure detached itself from the larger car and approached us slowly.
“Your mask, Larry,” I warned him, taking off mine at the same time.
I paid no particular attention to the man from the other car until he reached us. It was too dark for me to see his face, and too dark, I hoped, for him to see mine. For as we met he glanced at us closely and then, without a word, turned and hurried back to his car.
I caught Larry’s arm. “By gad, that looks like more of them. Jump in quick!” I told him.
I was in the driving seat with Larry tumbling in behind me before the stranger reached his own car. But just as I slipped in the clutch something whistled between Larry and me, and a section of glass from my wind-shield leaped into the air and fell on the hood.
“Head down, Larry,” I shouted, as we gathered speed. Then I looked back.
The other car was drawn across the road, with the front wheels on the sidewalk, in the act of turning. It looked enormous in the dim light, and I could see that it had more than one occupant, though how many I could not tell. Another bullet whistled over our heads, perilously close, but there came no sound of an explosion.
“Air-guns again, Larry,” I shouted, above the roar of my open cut-out. “If we’re to save our skins we’ve got to shake them.”