Read Online Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) by Alexander Wilson - Free Book Online

quietly, no harm will come to you. You will be asked a few questions, and perhaps detained for a little while; that is all. If you use firearms, you will have to take the consequences, which will be very serious.’
    A low laugh could be heard.
    ‘You will ask the questions, and keep us detain,’ growled the voice. ‘That is all, you say? We not beeg fools like you tink. We know we get shot, if we do come out ourselves. You tink we spies, and Engleesh shoot always men they tink spies.’
    ‘Rubbish!’ retorted Brien impatiently. ‘English people do not shoot spies, except sometimes when there is a war.’
    Again his remarks were answered by a laugh.
    ‘You come and get us – if you can.’
    ‘They’ve asked for it,’ ground out the tall, fair-haired deputy chief. ‘Don’t kill them, if you can help it. As soon as the door is open,’ he added in a whisper, ‘drop to the floor behind me and shoot to disable them. Ready?’
    Maddison and Foster nodded. In their hands they now held revolvers. Brien also had drawn his. Pushing the others back in order to give himself as much room as possible, he crashed the sole of his foot against the door close to the lock. The whole house resounded and seemed to shake. Again and again he repeated the performance until his leg became numb, but the door resisted the terrific impacts. It appeared to be a stouter affair than he had anticipated. Foster had a turn, but was also unsuccessful. Then heand Maddison tried together. At their third combined attempt, it gave way. They were thrown down by the force of their effort. Brien sprang over their prone bodies, and dived to his hands and knees expecting to hear the sharp crack of revolvers. There was not a sound; the room seemed to be empty. One glance at the bed drawn up to the wide open window, and a great cry of mortification escaped from him. At once he was on his feet; had darted across the room. A sheet, one end knotted to the bedrail, hung out of the window. Two men were clambering over a wall three or four gardens away. Several people were looking out of the back windows of houses opposite, watching their escape with great curiosity and interest.
    ‘Come on!’ roared Brien. ‘We’ll get them yet. You’re a hurdler, Foster; those walls will be for easy to you. Down the sheet and after them! You and I will go the other way, Maddison.’
    He tore down the stairs followed by the older man. Foster went out of the window without bothering much about the sheet; landed in a heap on the ground below. At once he was up, and gracefully vaulted the wall separating the Wrights’ house from the next. Speeding across the narrow gardens, and continuing to vault the walls with ease, he rapidly gained on the fugitives. By that time quite a large number of people were watching the chase, and Foster could hear cries of excitement, but, as luck would have it, there was nobody in any of the gardens, who might have made an attempt to stop the escaping men. Foster had drawn quite close to them when they turned suddenly into a house. He sprang over the one remaining wall and, without hesitation, followed them through the doorway. The house was unoccupied and apparently in the process of redecoration. All the doors and windows on the ground floor were open, but there appeared to be no workmen about. Baltazziand Padakis had seized a heaven-sent opportunity – it was the dinner hour. Foster hastened from one room to another, but failed to find trace of the fugitives. At last he reached the attic, approached it warily, his revolver ready for action. It was empty! Astonished, he turned, ran down the stairs, and darted out into Brook Street. Maddison and Brien were only a few yards away from him, but he saw no one resembling the two dagoes, as he had mentally dubbed them. He ran and caught up his colleagues, gasping out a hasty explanation of what had happened.
    ‘Good God!’ ejaculated Brien. ‘Two men in painters’ white jackets came out of that