What a game it had been! A hundred thousand in precious gems, all
neatly packed away in the heels of Crawford's old shoes! And where was
that man Mason? Would he ever return? Oh, well; he, Haggerty, had got
his seven thousand in rewards; he was living now like a nabob up in the
Bronx. He had no real cause to regret Mason's advent or his escape.
Yet, deep in his heart burned the chagrin of defeat: his man had got
away, and half the game (if you're a true hunter) was in putting your
hand on a man's shoulder and telling him to "Come along."
He crossed the street and entered the, alley and gazed up at the
fire-escape down which Mason had made his escape. What impelled the
detective to leap up and catch the lower bars of the ground-ladder he
could not have told you. He pulled himself up and climbed to the
window.
Open!
Haggerty had nerves like steel wires, but a slight shiver ran down his
spine. Open, and Crawford yet on the high seas. He waited, listening
intently. Not a sound of any sort came to his ears. He stepped inside
courageously and slipped with his back to the wall, where he waited,
holding his breath.
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