CHAPTER XXV.THOSE EXTRA-HEAVY SUIT CASES.Green Eye did not reply to the burly detective’s warning, but his hand took a firm grip on the revolver in his pocket.He was holding it by the barrel, however.The brief interval that followed seemed long and tedious, but in reality it could not have been of more than three or four minutes’ duration.Although tense and physically on the alert, Gordon found his mind wandering. He wondered idly where Simpson had been staying, and how he dared to travel about even at night in the same machine in which he had removed the gold from the Hattontown bank.“He probably counts on Griswold doing nothing,” he decided, then grimly called himself to account. “What difference does it make to me where he has been hiding?” he asked himself impatiently. “The important thing is that he seems to be here, that the gold also seems to be here, and that he’s going to be kind enough to show me where it is.”The unseen car approached very quietly, and came to a halt outside the gate. They heard the faint scrape of the man’s heel as Simpson dismounted, then footsteps approached the gate, the latch was cautiously lifted, and the gate swung inward.Obviously Simpson intended to drive into the yard, and that could mean only one thing—that he intended to remove a substantial part of the gold, if not all of it, and wished to bring the machine as close to his hiding place as possible, so that he need only carry the stuff a minimum distance.The fugitive was within a few feet of the two men when he pushed the gate back against the fence, but they made no attempt to tackle him. They felt pretty sure that the loot was hidden in the garage, but until there was no longer the slightest room for doubt, they meant to give Simpson all the rope he needed.Presently the faint, buzzing sound of the motor began again, and then the vehicle loomed over the top of the fence. Simpson was backing it very slowly and cautiously into the graveled driveway in front of the garage.Now the car—an electric coupé somewhat larger than usual—was in the yard, and part of it was hidden to view beyond the garage. It was backed a few feet farther, and then the subdued humming of the motor abruptly ceased.Again the two watchers heard the driver step out. Now there was a new sound, that of a key being inserted in a lock. The lock clicked audibly in the stillness, after which the door of the garage began to slide aside.Not one of the sounds that had been made thus far could have been heard at a little distance, but not one of them had escaped the keen ears of Cray and Green-eye Gordon.As they anticipated, the man did not push the garage door fully aside, that being unnecessary, owing to the fact that he did not intend to drive the machine in, but only to gain access himself, and to have room enough to carry out what he meant to make away with.The time for action had come at last.After exchanging signals, the two men behind the lumber pile silently straightened up, exercised their cramped limbs in the air, one after the other, and then stole toward the nearest corner of the little structure. Guided by the sounds within, they peered around the corner, and saw that the open door of the coupé was just opposite the door of the garage, and that no more than two or three feet separated them.They had expected Simpson to begin carrying out the stuff at once, and meant to attack him as soon as he had completed his task and save them the trouble of handling the gold. Now, however, it was evident that he was digging.They caught the scrape of his foot on the spade, and a series of faint “swishes,” as spadeful after spadeful of soft soil was thrown aside.It was impossible for the two men to exchange words, but they turned and looked at each other, their faces close together. Plainly, it was necessary for them to wait still longer, if they intended to carry out their original program and let Simpson do the work.The garage in itself had not appealed to him as an altogether safe hiding place, and he had gone to the trouble of burying the loot under the structure.Some minutes passed before Simpson’s spade struck something hard. After more scraping and rasping, the fugitive brought out a box or some similar receptacle, to judge by the sounds. Incidentally its weight was made manifest by the subdued grunts and pants which they heard.A few moments’ rest followed, and then the man awkwardly conveyed the box—or whatever it was—to the door.The watchers saw now that it was a suit case of the stoutest leather, bought, doubtless, for the purpose, but looking considerably the worse for wear, as a result of its burial.After a great deal of effort, the far-from-athletic Simpson succeeded in hoisting it into the coupé. Would he fill up the hole now and close the garage, or was there more to follow?Obviously there was more, for after some further digging and a lot of sighs and mutterings, a second suit case, somewhat smaller, was dragged out and deposited in the car.“That must be all of it,” thought Green Eye. “Eighty thousand dollars in gold doesn’t weigh a ton or fill a coffin.”He was right. At any rate, Simpson’s actions quickly convinced them that he did not intend to remove anything more that night. He looked apprehensively in the direction of the house, and reëntered the garage, where, for some minutes, he again busied himself with the spade.He was filling in the hole. The clash was about due now.Gordon had an inspiration. He had been wondering how Simpson had previously concealed the freshly turned earth, or how he meant to do so now.“I’ll bet he has it fixed so that the excavation appears to have been made for the purpose of sinking one of those underground gasoline tanks!” he told himself. “Very likely he’s got the whole paraphernalia there, and the tank is actually in the ground. That’s what I would have done under the circumstances, at any rate.”As a matter of fact, his guess proved to be a singularly accurate one, for that was just the blind to which Simpson had resorted.The spade had been laid aside now, and the critical moment had arrived. Cray turned to his companion and made a series of quick, expressive gestures.“I’ll tackle him. You be ready to gag him while I hold him,” they said as plainly as words.An instant later, Simpson reappeared in the narrow space between the garage and the car, and, turning his back, started to shut the big, sliding door.That was Jack Cray’s opportunity, and, taking immediate advantage of it, he launched himself full tilt at the thief’s back.
CHAPTER XXV.THOSE EXTRA-HEAVY SUIT CASES.Green Eye did not reply to the burly detective’s warning, but his hand took a firm grip on the revolver in his pocket.He was holding it by the barrel, however.The brief interval that followed seemed long and tedious, but in reality it could not have been of more than three or four minutes’ duration.Although tense and physically on the alert, Gordon found his mind wandering. He wondered idly where Simpson had been staying, and how he dared to travel about even at night in the same machine in which he had removed the gold from the Hattontown bank.“He probably counts on Griswold doing nothing,” he decided, then grimly called himself to account. “What difference does it make to me where he has been hiding?” he asked himself impatiently. “The important thing is that he seems to be here, that the gold also seems to be here, and that he’s going to be kind enough to show me where it is.”The unseen car approached very quietly, and came to a halt outside the gate. They heard the faint scrape of the man’s heel as Simpson dismounted, then footsteps approached the gate, the latch was cautiously lifted, and the gate swung inward.Obviously Simpson intended to drive into the yard, and that could mean only one thing—that he intended to remove a substantial part of the gold, if not all of it, and wished to bring the machine as close to his hiding place as possible, so that he need only carry the stuff a minimum distance.The fugitive was within a few feet of the two men when he pushed the gate back against the fence, but they made no attempt to tackle him. They felt pretty sure that the loot was hidden in the garage, but until there was no longer the slightest room for doubt, they meant to give Simpson all the rope he needed.Presently the faint, buzzing sound of the motor began again, and then the vehicle loomed over the top of the fence. Simpson was backing it very slowly and cautiously into the graveled driveway in front of the garage.Now the car—an electric coupé somewhat larger than usual—was in the yard, and part of it was hidden to view beyond the garage. It was backed a few feet farther, and then the subdued humming of the motor abruptly ceased.Again the two watchers heard the driver step out. Now there was a new sound, that of a key being inserted in a lock. The lock clicked audibly in the stillness, after which the door of the garage began to slide aside.Not one of the sounds that had been made thus far could have been heard at a little distance, but not one of them had escaped the keen ears of Cray and Green-eye Gordon.As they anticipated, the man did not push the garage door fully aside, that being unnecessary, owing to the fact that he did not intend to drive the machine in, but only to gain access himself, and to have room enough to carry out what he meant to make away with.The time for action had come at last.After exchanging signals, the two men behind the lumber pile silently straightened up, exercised their cramped limbs in the air, one after the other, and then stole toward the nearest corner of the little structure. Guided by the sounds within, they peered around the corner, and saw that the open door of the coupé was just opposite the door of the garage, and that no more than two or three feet separated them.They had expected Simpson to begin carrying out the stuff at once, and meant to attack him as soon as he had completed his task and save them the trouble of handling the gold. Now, however, it was evident that he was digging.They caught the scrape of his foot on the spade, and a series of faint “swishes,” as spadeful after spadeful of soft soil was thrown aside.It was impossible for the two men to exchange words, but they turned and looked at each other, their faces close together. Plainly, it was necessary for them to wait still longer, if they intended to carry out their original program and let Simpson do the work.The garage in itself had not appealed to him as an altogether safe hiding place, and he had gone to the trouble of burying the loot under the structure.Some minutes passed before Simpson’s spade struck something hard. After more scraping and rasping, the fugitive brought out a box or some similar receptacle, to judge by the sounds. Incidentally its weight was made manifest by the subdued grunts and pants which they heard.A few moments’ rest followed, and then the man awkwardly conveyed the box—or whatever it was—to the door.The watchers saw now that it was a suit case of the stoutest leather, bought, doubtless, for the purpose, but looking considerably the worse for wear, as a result of its burial.After a great deal of effort, the far-from-athletic Simpson succeeded in hoisting it into the coupé. Would he fill up the hole now and close the garage, or was there more to follow?Obviously there was more, for after some further digging and a lot of sighs and mutterings, a second suit case, somewhat smaller, was dragged out and deposited in the car.“That must be all of it,” thought Green Eye. “Eighty thousand dollars in gold doesn’t weigh a ton or fill a coffin.”He was right. At any rate, Simpson’s actions quickly convinced them that he did not intend to remove anything more that night. He looked apprehensively in the direction of the house, and reëntered the garage, where, for some minutes, he again busied himself with the spade.He was filling in the hole. The clash was about due now.Gordon had an inspiration. He had been wondering how Simpson had previously concealed the freshly turned earth, or how he meant to do so now.“I’ll bet he has it fixed so that the excavation appears to have been made for the purpose of sinking one of those underground gasoline tanks!” he told himself. “Very likely he’s got the whole paraphernalia there, and the tank is actually in the ground. That’s what I would have done under the circumstances, at any rate.”As a matter of fact, his guess proved to be a singularly accurate one, for that was just the blind to which Simpson had resorted.The spade had been laid aside now, and the critical moment had arrived. Cray turned to his companion and made a series of quick, expressive gestures.“I’ll tackle him. You be ready to gag him while I hold him,” they said as plainly as words.An instant later, Simpson reappeared in the narrow space between the garage and the car, and, turning his back, started to shut the big, sliding door.That was Jack Cray’s opportunity, and, taking immediate advantage of it, he launched himself full tilt at the thief’s back.
Green Eye did not reply to the burly detective’s warning, but his hand took a firm grip on the revolver in his pocket.
He was holding it by the barrel, however.
The brief interval that followed seemed long and tedious, but in reality it could not have been of more than three or four minutes’ duration.
Although tense and physically on the alert, Gordon found his mind wandering. He wondered idly where Simpson had been staying, and how he dared to travel about even at night in the same machine in which he had removed the gold from the Hattontown bank.
“He probably counts on Griswold doing nothing,” he decided, then grimly called himself to account. “What difference does it make to me where he has been hiding?” he asked himself impatiently. “The important thing is that he seems to be here, that the gold also seems to be here, and that he’s going to be kind enough to show me where it is.”
The unseen car approached very quietly, and came to a halt outside the gate. They heard the faint scrape of the man’s heel as Simpson dismounted, then footsteps approached the gate, the latch was cautiously lifted, and the gate swung inward.
Obviously Simpson intended to drive into the yard, and that could mean only one thing—that he intended to remove a substantial part of the gold, if not all of it, and wished to bring the machine as close to his hiding place as possible, so that he need only carry the stuff a minimum distance.
The fugitive was within a few feet of the two men when he pushed the gate back against the fence, but they made no attempt to tackle him. They felt pretty sure that the loot was hidden in the garage, but until there was no longer the slightest room for doubt, they meant to give Simpson all the rope he needed.
Presently the faint, buzzing sound of the motor began again, and then the vehicle loomed over the top of the fence. Simpson was backing it very slowly and cautiously into the graveled driveway in front of the garage.
Now the car—an electric coupé somewhat larger than usual—was in the yard, and part of it was hidden to view beyond the garage. It was backed a few feet farther, and then the subdued humming of the motor abruptly ceased.
Again the two watchers heard the driver step out. Now there was a new sound, that of a key being inserted in a lock. The lock clicked audibly in the stillness, after which the door of the garage began to slide aside.
Not one of the sounds that had been made thus far could have been heard at a little distance, but not one of them had escaped the keen ears of Cray and Green-eye Gordon.
As they anticipated, the man did not push the garage door fully aside, that being unnecessary, owing to the fact that he did not intend to drive the machine in, but only to gain access himself, and to have room enough to carry out what he meant to make away with.
The time for action had come at last.
After exchanging signals, the two men behind the lumber pile silently straightened up, exercised their cramped limbs in the air, one after the other, and then stole toward the nearest corner of the little structure. Guided by the sounds within, they peered around the corner, and saw that the open door of the coupé was just opposite the door of the garage, and that no more than two or three feet separated them.
They had expected Simpson to begin carrying out the stuff at once, and meant to attack him as soon as he had completed his task and save them the trouble of handling the gold. Now, however, it was evident that he was digging.
They caught the scrape of his foot on the spade, and a series of faint “swishes,” as spadeful after spadeful of soft soil was thrown aside.
It was impossible for the two men to exchange words, but they turned and looked at each other, their faces close together. Plainly, it was necessary for them to wait still longer, if they intended to carry out their original program and let Simpson do the work.
The garage in itself had not appealed to him as an altogether safe hiding place, and he had gone to the trouble of burying the loot under the structure.
Some minutes passed before Simpson’s spade struck something hard. After more scraping and rasping, the fugitive brought out a box or some similar receptacle, to judge by the sounds. Incidentally its weight was made manifest by the subdued grunts and pants which they heard.
A few moments’ rest followed, and then the man awkwardly conveyed the box—or whatever it was—to the door.
The watchers saw now that it was a suit case of the stoutest leather, bought, doubtless, for the purpose, but looking considerably the worse for wear, as a result of its burial.
After a great deal of effort, the far-from-athletic Simpson succeeded in hoisting it into the coupé. Would he fill up the hole now and close the garage, or was there more to follow?
Obviously there was more, for after some further digging and a lot of sighs and mutterings, a second suit case, somewhat smaller, was dragged out and deposited in the car.
“That must be all of it,” thought Green Eye. “Eighty thousand dollars in gold doesn’t weigh a ton or fill a coffin.”
He was right. At any rate, Simpson’s actions quickly convinced them that he did not intend to remove anything more that night. He looked apprehensively in the direction of the house, and reëntered the garage, where, for some minutes, he again busied himself with the spade.
He was filling in the hole. The clash was about due now.
Gordon had an inspiration. He had been wondering how Simpson had previously concealed the freshly turned earth, or how he meant to do so now.
“I’ll bet he has it fixed so that the excavation appears to have been made for the purpose of sinking one of those underground gasoline tanks!” he told himself. “Very likely he’s got the whole paraphernalia there, and the tank is actually in the ground. That’s what I would have done under the circumstances, at any rate.”
As a matter of fact, his guess proved to be a singularly accurate one, for that was just the blind to which Simpson had resorted.
The spade had been laid aside now, and the critical moment had arrived. Cray turned to his companion and made a series of quick, expressive gestures.
“I’ll tackle him. You be ready to gag him while I hold him,” they said as plainly as words.
An instant later, Simpson reappeared in the narrow space between the garage and the car, and, turning his back, started to shut the big, sliding door.
That was Jack Cray’s opportunity, and, taking immediate advantage of it, he launched himself full tilt at the thief’s back.