The other men made a dash for liberty, but the police also
producing their lights, managed to seize them. At last Hale,
apparently seeing there was no chance of escaping in the
gloom, turned on the electric lights again, and the
illumination revealed a cellar filled with struggling men.
Jennings made for Clancy, as it struck him that this man, in
spite of the foolish look on his face, was the prime agent.
Clancy fired and missed. Then he strove to close with
Jennings. The latter hammered him over the head with the butt
of his revolver. Shouts and oaths came from the infuriated
thieves, but the police fought like bulldogs, with tenacious
courage, silent and grim.
"Hold them--hold them!" cried Jennings, as he went down.
"I'll do for you this time," said Hale between his teeth, and
flung himself forward, but Jennings struggled valiantly. The
coiner was over him, and trying to get at his revolver which
had fallen in the fight. Jennings waited till he stretched,
then fired upward. Hale gave a yell of agony, and throwing up
his arms, fell on one side. Wounded, and in great pain,
Jennings rose. He had just time to see Clancy in the grip of
two policemen, fighting desperately, when his senses left him
and he fainted. The shouts and oaths and shots rang out
wildly and confusedly as he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER XXIII
A SCAMP'S HISTORY
When Jennings came to himself he was lying on a sofa in the
dining-room on the ground-floor of the villa.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292