Swiftly the man Cole drew a coil of fine wire from the cupboard, the ends being joined to the two attaché-cases—so that if the mechanism of one failed, the other would act—and with quick, nimble fingers he joined the wire to that already attached to the six inoffensive-looking cans of “oil.”
The preparations did not occupy more than a minute. Then, seizing a can of petrol, he placed it beside the cans of high-explosive, in order to add fire to the explosion.
Afterwards, with a final look at the wires, and putting his head into the cupboard, where he listened to make certain that the clockwork mechanism was in motion, he glanced at the big clock above. Then, in fear lest he should be caught there, he ran wildly out into the darkness ere they were aware of his intention.
“Quick!” shouted Kennedy. “Rush and break those wires, Ella! I’ll watch him!”
Without a second’s hesitation, the girl dashed into the power-house and frantically tore the wires from the cupboard and from the fastenings to the deadly attaché-cases, and—as it was afterwards proved—only just in time to save herself, the building, and its mass of machinery from total destruction.
Meanwhile, Kennedy had overtaken the man Cole, and closed desperately with him, both of them rolling into the mud.
Just as Ella was running towards them a pistol-shot rang out.
The fellow had drawn a revolver and in desperation had tried to shoot his captor, but instead, in Kennedy’s strong grip, his hand was turned towards himself, and the bullet had struck his own face, entering his brain.
In a few seconds the man Cole lay there dead.
Was it any wonder that the Press made no mention of the affair?