Finally, however, I saw a coil of fine wire drop rapidly to the ground from a window somewhere above.  I made a dash for it, as though I were trying to rush the trenches, seized my prize and without looking back to see where it came from, beat a hasty retreat.

Around the lot I skirted, until at last I reached the place where the police were waiting.  Quickly we fastened the wire to the bell.

We waited.

Not a sound from the bell.

Up in the room in the joint, the hunched up figure stood by the table.  He had taken his hat off and placed it carefully on the table, and was now waiting.

Suddenly a noise at the door startled him.  He listened.  Then he backed away from the door and drew a revolver.

As the door slowly opened there entered another figure, hat over his eyes, collar up, a handkerchief over his face, the exact counterpart of the first!

For a moment each glared at the other.

“Hands up!” shouted the first figure, hoarsely, moving the gun and closing the door, with his foot.

The newcomer slowly raised his crooked hand over his head, as the blue steel revolver gaped menacingly.

With a quick movement of the other hand, the first sinister figure removed the handkerchief from his face and straightened up.

It was Kennedy!

“Come over to the center of the room,” ordered Kennedy.

Clutching Hand obeyed, eyeing his captor closely.

“Now lay your weapons on the table.”

He tossed down a revolver.

The two still faced each other.

“Take off that handkerchief!”

It was a tense moment.  Slowly Clutching Hand started to obey.  Then he stopped.  Kennedy was just about to thunder, “Go on,” when the criminal calmly remarked, “You’ve got me all right, Kennedy, but in twenty minutes Elaine Dodge will be dead!”

He said it with a nonchalance that might have deceived anyone less astute than Kennedy.  Suddenly there flashed over Craig the words:  “The trick will be pulled off at three o’clock!”

There was no fake about that.  Kennedy frowned.  If he killed Clutching Hand, Elaine would die.  If he fought, he must either kill or be killed.  If he handed Clutching Hand over, all he had to do was to keep quiet.  He looked at his watch.  It was twenty-five minutes of three.

What a situation!

He had caught a prisoner he dared not molest—­yet.

“What do you mean—­tell me?” demanded Kennedy with forced calm.

“Yesterday Mr. Bennett bought a wrist watch for Elaine,” the Clutching Hand said quietly.  “They left it to be regulated.  One of my men bought one just like it.  Mine was delivered to her today.”

“A likely story!” doubted Kennedy.

For answer, the Clutching Hand pointed to the telephone.

Kennedy reached for it.