Finally the big man's
voice came triumphantly.
"I've got him."
"It's Dick!" The cry came as a wail of despair from the girl.
At the same moment, Garson flashed his torch, and the light fell
swiftly on young Gilder, bowed to a kneeling posture before the
couch, half-throttled by the strength of Chicago Red. Close
beside him, Mary looked down in wordless despair over this final
disaster of the night. There was silence among the men, all of
whom save the captor himself were gathered near the fireplace.
Garson retired a step farther before he spoke his command, so
that, though he held the torch still, he like the others was in
shadow. Only Mary was revealed clearly as she bent in alarm
toward the man she had married. It was borne in on the forger's
consciousness that the face of the woman leaning over the
intruder was stronger to hold the prisoner and to prevent any
outcry than the might of Chicago Red himself, and so he gave the
order.
"Get away, Red."
The fellow let go his grip obediently enough, though with a
trifle of regret, since he gloried in his physical prowess.
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