He was running now, as rapidly as he could in the darkness and in the
narrow space between the Spider's house and the wall of the brick
building. Yells in increasing volume sounded from the direction of "The
Yellow Lantern"; and now he could hear the pound of feet racing across
the courtyard toward the antique shop. The woman, from the open window
above, was still screaming with terror.
If he could gain the door in the fence--and the lane! But there was
still the Wolf to reckon with! The Wolf had only to run through the
kitchen and out by the back entrance--the shorter distance of the two.
But the Wolf had already lost a few seconds so that now the race was a
gamble. Could he, Jimmie Dale, get there _first_! He could not run in
the other direction--that would take him into the courtyard, and the
courtyard now, as evidenced by the yells and shouting, was filled with
an excited crowd emptying from the dance hall.
He reached the rear end of the house, and darted across the wider space
here, racing for the opening in the fence--and suddenly changed his
tactics, and began to zigzag a little. A revolver flash cut the night.
Came the Wolf's howl from the back stoop, and, over his shoulder, Jimmie
Dale saw the other, dark-shadowed, leap forward in pursuit--and heard
the Wolf fire again.
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