It was a narrow street, and the row of tenement houses, each house
almost identical with its neighbour, that flanked the pavement on either
side, seemed, from where Jimmie Dale stood looking down its length, from
the corner, to converge together at a point a little way beyond,
giving it an unreal, ominous, cavernlike effect. And, too, there seemed
something ominous even in its quiet. It was as though one sensed acutely
the crouching of some Thing in its lair--waiting silently, viciously,
with sullen patience.
A footstep sounded--another. Jimmie Dale drew quickly back around the
corner into an areaway. Two men passed--in helmets--swinging their
nightsticks--that beat was always policed in pairs!
They passed on, turned the corner, and went down the narrow cross street
that Jimmie Dale had just been inspecting. He started to follow--and
drew back again abruptly. A form flitted suddenly across the road and
disappeared in the darkness in the officers' wake--ten yards behind
the first another followed--at the same interval of distance still
another--and yet still one more--four in all.
The darkness hid all six, the two policemen, the four men behind
them--the only sounds were the OFFICERS' footsteps dying away in the
distance.
Jimmie Dale's fingers were mechanically testing the mechanism of the
automatic in his pocket.
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