Martin knew that
several men had entered the saloon. The danger seemed to have passed
them by.

He heard Little Billy give vent to a satisfied grunt. He looked up,
over his shoulder, and saw that the jimmy had completed its task. The
shutter was open, Little Billy was clambering down from the boatswain's
shoulders, an indistinct figure was half over the sill, clambering out
of the newly opened window. And in the same glance, he saw a beam of
yellow light illumine the other window, the window of the room in which
he had been prisoner. His ears were assailed with a sudden outcry
coming through that window----

"He ees gone!"

It happened in the twinkling of an eye. Martin wheeled about at the
sight and sound. He had no time for reflection, but he knew instantly
that his escape had been discovered, that the light above came from the
big room where he had bearded Carew, that they had opened the door and
found him gone.

Feet trampled in the room. A man's figure was framed in the lighted
window--a bloated bulk that he knew was Spulvedo. A flame shot from
that figure into his very face. The missile struck the roof close to
his side and splattered shingle and dirt in his face. Without
hesitation, he straightened his own arm and fired point blank at the
living mark. Spulvedo emitted a stifled shriek and fell from sight.

The window was empty again. Not until long afterward did Martin recall
that his conscious mind never received the sound of those two shots.

A dark figure brushed past him and dropped over the edge of the roof to
the street. The boatswain followed. Little Billy was by his side,
grasping his shoulder.

"Come on--roll off!" the hunchback was urging.

The second window overhead was suddenly alight, and a booming voice was
cursing in the room. Martin rolled off the edge and fell into the
boatswain's arms.

Then he was on his feet, running, by the boatswain's side. Just in
front of him raced the hunchback, and a queer figure in man's clothes,
whose long hair streamed behind. He heard men shouting.

They passed the corner and started across the Embarcadero toward the
wharves. Far down the street a police whistle was blowing shrilly.
Behind them, the Black Cruiser was spewing forth its brood.

The street was wide. They were not nearly across when these sounds of
pursuit reached Martin's ears. He heard the pounding of feet behind
him, and the sound of shots. He heard the hunchback fl