"Porter, the constable, from Purling, and five other men."
Grattan leaped to the table and caught up the box. Holding it in front of him, the buckthorn cane under his arm, he whispered to his confederates:
"Bunce, you and Pryne stand ready to leave the room. When I give the word, go—and go quick."
Then, lifting his voice, Grattan added:
"Open the door, Pryne, and admit the constable from Purling and five men."
Pryne bent to the bar.
"Stop!" cried Matt.
Pryne raised himself quickly. He and Bunce, Grattan and even Goldstein stared at the king of the motor boys.
Matt was standing on the bench, his right hand lifted, and one of the shimmering spheres in his hand.
"Don't come in here yet, McGlory!" shouted Matt. "I'll give the word when I want you to come. You see, Grattan," he added, "I'd a little rather have my friends stay on the outside until they can come in here after I break the glass ball."