.. it would be a gracious little act on the
part of the Gray Seal, would it not, to invite the police, this Mike and
his companion, to that den--they would be deeply interested! He laughed
low--they were almost at the door now. Well? The doorknob rattled. Yes,
he would do it! Yes--_now_! He stretched out suddenly, and with the toe
of his boot kicked over a chair that was within reach. The crash, as the
chair fell, was answered by a rush through the door, a hoarse, surprised
and quick-flung oath--and, as Jimmie Dale swung out through the window
and dropped to the street, the flash and roar of a revolver shot.
Like a cat on his feet, he whirled as he touched the pavement, and
darted along past the backyard fence, heading for the lane; and, as he
ran, over his shoulder, he saw first one and then the other of the two
men, both in police uniform, drop from the window and take up the
pursuit. Another shot, and another, a fusillade of them rang out. A
bullet struck the pavement at his feet with a venomous _spat_. He heard
the humming of another that was like the humming of an angry wasp. And
he laughed again to himself--but short and grimly now. Just a few yards
more--five of them--to the corner of the lane.
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