The first man was at it again, but once more Neuburg was running.
He ran with a lurching step towards the torrent. They yelled at him to stop, to throw up his hands. He lumbered onward. When he reached the torrent, a man fired. Neuburg staggered, steadied himself, then jumped clear out into the boiling fall.
They saw him hang swaying amid the welter of white and angry water, his feet slipping on a slab of rock on the very lip of the fall. Then the giant arms were flung wide, and he toppled into the stream.
They saw his body just for one minute, turning over and over in the torn and angry water at the bottom of the fall, three hundred feet below. Then it was gone.
Mr. Neuburg was finished.
They found Gatineau, by the body of the dead Lucas, making the best of a flesh wound along the ribs.
“As you thought, Mr. Seadon,” he said, “Lucas skipped with the securities. They’re all here, £145,000 pounds worth of them.”
“Well, that point is cleared up,” said Clement. “We’d better head for Banff now, and Miss Reys.”
“And Mrs. Neuburg, alias Méduse Smith,” grinned Gatineau, who had learned much from the wanderers. “I’m going to arrest one of the family, anyhow.”