CHAPTER XIX

AT LAST, THE TERROR'S PICTURE

"That--" Tom Howe spoke slowly, with a suggestion almost of awe in his voice, "That is the most remarkable picture I have ever seen. In fact, the thing it reveals is almost unbelievable."

He paused to cast a sweeping glance at his companions. Not one of them, Tom, John, or Jimmie, said a word. They were waiting for the revelation they all knew must come.

Down deep inside himself, Jimmie was the most excited of them all, for the picture which Tom held with fingers that trembled was the one taken by the old camera set as a trap in the abandoned mansion. What story did it tell? He could only wait with the rest.

Scottie had done the picture and pronounced it first class. They had gathered, the four of them, in a small, secret room for a look at it. Naturally, Tom had the first good look.

"That man," Tom pointed a pencil, "the one in the center, is the Silent Terror."

"The Terror! Terror! Silent Terror!" they echoed.

"Not a doubt about it," Tom was emphatic. "It's a halfside view. Look at that ear! There's only one of its kind in the world. See for yourself."

After placing a flat box containing a wax reproduction of an ear on the table, he held a magnifying glass before the picture.

One look was enough to convince them. "It is! It is!" They were agreed.

"But what--" Jimmie could not go on. Instead he sat staring in astonishment.

"What is he doing in such company?" John asked. He had recognized in one of the others the notorious Sharpe.

"The others," said Tom, "are Stumps Sharpe and Tungsten Tom. There can be but one answer to that question. These professional crooks read about the Silent Terror and decided that he had something they wanted, silent death for those who opposed them. So they hunted him up and struck some sort of a bargain with him."

"And we saw them at it!" Jimmie exclaimed, recalling the night he and John had watched this terrifying trio in the old mansion.

"And I had a gun on me," John groaned aloud.

"I'm glad you didn't use it," said Tom. "We'll get them and all their pals. If we don't send them up for trying to get away with those silver fox skins we'll take them for that diamond robbery. You've got the proof, the diamonds," he turned to John.

"Oh, no you won't," was John's surprising reply.

"Why--what--" they all turned upon him.

"I took the diamonds over to the man whose safe was robbed," he explained. "He said the diamonds we took from the old house were very nice stones, very fine indeed, and worth a lot of money. But--" he heaved a sigh, then added, "he'd never seen them before."

"Never seen----"

"They were cut in an old-fashioned manner that belongs to another generation," John went on. "It seems more than probable that the eccentric old Judge hid them there many years ago.

"So--o," he concluded, "I've filed them away in a vault for future reference."

"Then," said Tom, "we'll get that gang with the goods on them, the night they come after those furs. Only--" deep lines appeared on his face. "That will be taking a desperate chance. If the Terror puts deadly poison in his silent messengers, his bubbles, you know, the city will be obliged to employ some new detectives on the morning after.

"Let me see," he puzzled for a moment. "I would throw a guard about the place now only they might get wise. No, I'll watch that garage. The truck will give them away."

"And tonight," Jimmie said, "I'll try for a picture from across the street."

"That--why, yes, I guess that will be O. K." said Tom. "Even if they see you they won't suspect anything. A boy can go anywhere."

And so the party broke up.

Late that night Jimmie made his way to that dark and forbidding section of the city in which the tapping had been heard.

Assured by the watchman of the near-by factory that the tapping was going on again, he took his place well in the shadows behind a window.

His watch was long. Twice he fell asleep to awake with a start. To keep himself awake he set himself wondering about many things. There was the ball game that would be played day after tomorrow. Would the Bubble Man be there? Or, would Tom Howe get him before that? There was the reward. He wished he might get in on that. It would pay for his first year at college. People said it was best not to work the first year. Yet he must work unless----

Was his watch to be futile? Was his theory all wrong? Did those men enter some other way? He took to studying the windows, the tall first-story windows, the coal chute and all other possible entrances. Repair work was going on in the street, had been for days. A new water main was being laid. A cave-in had delayed the work. The place was boarded up to hold the earth in place. Seemed like streets in this city were always torn up. Seemed like----

Once again he fell asleep to wake with a start. This wouldn't do. Dawn was approaching. A milk wagon lumbered down the street. Those men would leave with the dawn.

Rising, he began pacing the floor. He had kept this up for a quarter of an hour when he stopped dead in his tracks to stare in astonishment. Then he reached for his new camera with the telescopic lens.

What had happened? Two of the boards in that street embankment had been lifted aside. A man dressed in a workman's garb, was coming out. Jimmie guessed he was no ordinary workman. Waiting until his full profile was exposed, the boy snapped his picture twice. Not much light, but perhaps enough for a sort of shadow picture.

Another man came out, another and yet another. The boards were replaced. The three men marched down the street. There was in their walk more of a lockstep than the slow slouch of tired workmen.

Jimmie went down to drink a steaming cup of coffee, then to sleep for two hours in a big, soft chair.

After that he burst into Scottie's studio to place a film on his table and exclaim:

"Develop those, Scottie. They'll make us famous."

"Like fun they will!" Scottie laughed.

Nevertheless he did develop them, and, mere shadow pictures taken at dawn though they were, Tom Howe recognized them at once as pictures of Piccalo, the Pipe, Stumps Sharpe, and Black Dolan.

"MY PALS!" he exclaimed. "I have a direct tip that the job is to be pulled tonight and I have a feeling that we shall all meet in the alley by that fur storage place by the moonlight."

"And the Bubble Man," suggested Jimmie.

"We haven't got him yet," Tom frowned. "I set a watch but someone must have tipped him off. I feel sure enough that he's got a supply of his infernal bubbles with him. Question is, what kind of gas is in 'em, sleeping or killing?"

"Perhaps we'll get him at the ball game tomorrow," Jimmie suggested.

"We'll get him tonight or he'll get us," Tom flashed back grimly.