They tried it but
it was bolted on the other side. Blows had no effect. They had to
give it up for the instant.
A policeman now stood beside Elaine and the wounded burglar who
was muttering deliriously to himself.
He was pretty far gone, as the policeman knelt down and tried to
get a statement out of him.
"Who was that man who left you--last--the Clutching Hand?"
Not a word came from the crook.
The policeman repeated his question.
With his last strength, he looked disdainfully at the officer's
pad and pencil. "The gangster never squeals," he snarled, as he
fell back.
Dr. Morton had paid no attention whatever to him, but was working
desperately now over Elaine, trying to bring her oack to life.
"Is she--going to--die?" gasped Craig, frantically.
Every eye was riveted on Dr. Morton.
"She is all right," he muttered. "But the man is going to die."
At the sound of Craig's voice Elaine had feebly opened her eyes.
"Thank heaven," breathed Craig, with a sigh of relief, as his hand
gently stroked Elaine's unnaturally cold forehead.
CHAPTER VII
THE DOUBLE TRAP
Mindful of the sage advice that a time of peace is best employed
in preparing for war, I was busily engaged in cleaning my
automatic gun one morning as Kennedy and I were seated in our
living room.
Our door buzzer sounded and Kennedy, always alert, jumped up,
pushing aside a great pile of papers which had accumulated in the
Dodge case.
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