the other six parleyed in hoarse whispers. One raised a gun, but the woman and the others restrained him and fled.
“Take me to your master!” demanded Kennedy.
The crook remained silent.
“Where is he?” repeated Craig. “Tell me!”
Still the man remained silent. Craig looked the fellow over again. Then, still with that confident smile, he reached into his inside pocket and drew forth the tube I had seen him place there.
“No matter how much you accuse me,” added Craig casually, “no one will ever take the word of a crook that a reputable scientist like me would do what I am about to do.”
He had taken out his penknife and opened it. Then he beckoned to me.
“Bare his arm and hold his wrist, Walter,” he said.
Craig bent down with the knife and the tube, then paused a moment and turned the tube so that we could see it.
On the label were the ominous words:
Germ culture 6248A Bacillus Leprae (Leprosy)
Calmly he took the knife and proceeded to make an incision in the man’s arm. The crook’s feelings underwent a terrific struggle.
“No—no—no—don’t,” he implored. “I will take you to the Clutching Hand—even if it kills me!”
Kennedy stepped back, replacing the tube in his pocket.
“Very well, go ahead!” he agreed.
We followed the crook, Craig still holding the deadly box of fulminate of mercury carefully balanced so that if anyone shot him from a hiding place it would drop.
No sooner had we gone than Gertie hurried to the nearest telephone to inform the Clutching Hand of our escape.
Elaine had sunk back into the chair, as the telephone rang. Clutching Hand answered it.
A moment later, in uncontrollable fury he hurled the instrument to the floor.
“Here—we’ve got to act quickly—that devil has escaped again,” he hissed. “We must get her away. You keep her here. I’ll be back— right away—with a car.”
He dashed madly from the church, pulling off his mask as he gained the street.
Kennedy had forced the crook ahead of us into the car which was waiting and I followed, taking the wheel this time.
“Which way, now—quick!” demanded Craig, “And if you get me in wrong—I’ve got that tube yet—you remember.”
Our crook started off with a whole burst of directions that rivalled the motor guide—“through the town, following trolley tracks, jog right, jog left under the R. R. bridge, leaving trolley tracks; at cemetery turn left, stopping at the old stone church.”
“Is this it?” asked Craig incredulously.
“Yes—as I live,” swore the crook in a cowed voice.
He had gone to pieces. Kennedy jumped from the machine.
“Here, take this gun, Walter,” he said to me. “Don’t take your eyes off the fellow—keep him covered.”
Craig walked around the church, out of sight, until he came to a small vestry window and looked in.
There was Elaine, sitting in a chair, and near her stood an elderly looking man in clerical garb, which to Craig’s trained eye was quite evidently a disguise.
Elaine happened just then to glance at the window and her eyes grew wide with astonishment at the sight of Craig.
He made a hasty motion to her to make a dash for the door. She nodded quietly.
With a glance at her guardian, she suddenly made a rush.
He was at her in a moment, pouncing on her, cat-like.
Kennedy had seized an iron bar that lay beside the window where some workmen had been repairing the stone pavement, and, with a blow shattered the glass and the sash.
At the sound of the smashing glass the crook turned and with a mighty effort threw Elaine aside, drawing his revolver. As he raised it, Elaine sprang at him and frantically seized his wrist.
Utterly merciless, the man brought the butt of the gun down with full force on Elaine’s head. Only her hat and hair saved her, but she sank unconscious.
Then he turned at Craig and fired twice.
One shot grazed Craig’s hat, but the other struck him in the shoulder and Kennedy reeled.
With a desperate effort he pulled himself together and leaped forward again, closing with the fellow and wrenching the gun from him before he could fire again.
It fell to the floor with a clang.
Just then the man broke away and made a dash for the door leading back into the church itself, with Kennedy after him. At the foot of a flight of stairs, he turned long enough to pick up a chair. As Kennedy came on, he deliberately smashed it over Craig’s head.
Kennedy warded off the blow as best he could, then, still undaunted, started up the stairs after the fellow.
Up they went, into the choir loft and then into the belfry itself. There they came to sheer hand to hand struggle. Kennedy tripped on a loose board and would have fallen backwards, if he had not been able to recover himself just in time. The crook, desperate, leaped for the ladder leading further up into the steeple. Kennedy followed.
Elaine had recovered consciousness almost immediately and, hearing the commotion, stirred and started to rise and look about.
From the church she could hear sounds of the struggle. She paused just long enough to seize the crook’s revolver lying on the floor.
She hurried into the church and up into the belfry, thence up the ladder, whence the sounds came.
The crook by this time had gained the outside of the steeple through an opening. Kennedy was in close pursuit.
On the top of the steeple was a great gilded cross, considerably larger than a man. As the crook clambered outside, he scaled the steeple, using a lightning rod and some projecting points to pull himself up, desperately.
Kennedy followed unhesitatingly.
There they were, struggling in deadly combat, clinging to the gilded cross.
The first I knew of it was a horrified gasp from my own crook. I looked up carefully, fearing it was a stall to get me off my guard. There were Kennedy and the other crook, struggling, swaying back and forth, between life and death.
I looked at my man. What should I do? Should I leave him and go to Craig? If I did, might he not pick us both off, from a safe vantage point, by some sharp-shooting skill?
There was nothing I could do.
Kennedy was clinging to a lightning rod on the cross.
It broke.
I gasped as Craig reeled back. But he managed to catch hold of the rod further down and cling to it.
The crook seemed to exult diabolically. Holding with both hands to the cross, he let himself out to his full length and stamped on Kennedy’s fingers, trying every way to dislodge him. It was all Kennedy could do to keep his hold.
I cried out in agony at the sight, for he had dislodged one of Craig’s hands. The other could not hold on much longer. He was about to fall.
Just then I saw a face at the little window opening out from the ladder to the outside of the steeple—a woman’s face, tense with horror.
It was Elaine!
Quickly a hand followed and in it was a revolver.
Just as the crook was about to dislodge Kennedy’s other hand, I saw a flash and a