“And Twining?” asked Jennings, trying to sit up.

“He is dead—­shot through the heart.  Clancy killed him.”

“Then he’ll swing for it,” said Jennings in a stronger tone, “we lose a good man in poor Twining.  And Hale?”

“You have wounded him severely in the lungs.  I fear he will die.  We have put him in Mrs. Barnes’ room on her bed.  The poor woman is wild with grief and terror.  I suppose you know her husband was amongst those rascals.”

“I thought as much.  His going out was merely a blind.  But I must get up and look at the factory.  Send Atkins to me.”

Atkins was the man next in command now that the inspector was dead.

The doctor tried to keep Jennings on his back, but the detective would not listen.  “There is much to do,” he said, rising unsteadily.  “You have bound up my shoulder.  I won’t lose any more blood.”

“You have lost a good deal already.”

“It’s my business.  We detectives have our battles to fight as well as soldiers have theirs.  Give me some brandy and send Atkins.”

Seeing that the man was resolved, Slane gave him the drink and went out.  In a few minutes Atkins entered and saluted.  Jennings, after drinking the fiery spirit, felt much better, and was fairly steady on his legs.  “Did you see any women amongst the men we took?” he asked.

“No, sir,” replied the other, “there were five men.  Two are wounded—­one slightly, and the other—­Hale—­severely.  He wants to make a confession to you, and I have sent to the office for a clerk to take down his words.  Dr. Slane says he will not live till morning.”

“He will cheat the law, I suppose,” said Jennings, “give me your arm, Atkins.  I want to visit the factory.”

“Are you strong enough, sir?”

“Quite strong enough.  Don’t bother,” replied the other as a twinge of pain made him wince.  “We’ve made a good haul this time.”

“You’ll say that, sir, when you see the factory.  It is the most complete thing of its kind.”

“Tell the clerk when he arrives not to take down Hale’s confession till I arrive.  I won’t be more than a quarter of an hour.  Give me your arm when you return.”

Atkins departed on his errand, and Jennings sat down, wondering what had become of Maraquito.  He made sure she would go to the factory, as being a place of refuge which the police would find hard to discover.  But, apparently, she had taken earth in some other crib belonging to the gang.  However, he would have all the ports watched, and she would find it hard to escape abroad.  Maraquito was so striking a woman that it was no easy matter for her to disguise herself.  And Jennings swore that he would capture her, for he truly believed that she had killed Miss Loach, and was the prime mover in the whole business.  Hitherto she had baffled him by her dexterity, but when they next met he hoped to get the upper hand.