A fine tongue of flame licked out from the muzzle of Storm's automatic, and the roar of the explosion was shattering. The bullet struck Brome's revolver from his hand, and it clattered to the floor while his arm fell limply to his side, suddenly paralysed by the shock. Storm dropped his gun into his pocket and leapt. His fist crashed into Snooper's face, and the big man slid limply to the ground. Storm had his back to the drawn curtains, and behind him he heard, quite distinctly, a stifled gasp. In one lightning spring he was beside the window, his back flattened against the wall, watching and listening. No one entered, and he drew back the edge of the curtain a centimetre. There was nothing to be seen, but as he let the cloth fall back he caught the gentle crunch of stealthy footsteps on gravel. He was across the room in a flash, had turned out the lights, and was back at the window. He slipped between the curtains and swung himself out, dropping to the path with hardly a sound. At the corner of the building a dim grey shape moved suddenly and vanished. Storm jumped the path and raced along the turf to where he had seen the figure. There was no sign of it, but he could glimpse the small area in front of the house, and he saw the two black burly forms which pounded up the tiled approach, their lanterns dancing as they ran. "Damn these police.... But it's no use getting rattled, Horace!" he murmured. With which sound piece of philosophy he doubled back to the window and returned to the room he had left. His one shot had already raised the alarm, and he had much to do, yet he moved without flurry. On the floor in front of the safe he continued his interrupted task by the light of his torch. It was finished in a few moments, and then he closed the safe and replaced the wallet of tools in his pocket. As he crossed to the door he saw that Snooper had vanished and, on the strength of his decision, was glad that he had not hit the fence harder. There was, however, small time for these reflections, for the constables outside were already thundering on the front door. He flitted upstairs like a shadow, temporarily unperturbed by the problem of how he was to escape, and made a speedy, methodical search of all the upstairs rooms. The door of one remained shut when he turned the handle noiselessly, and from within came a faint sound of cautious movement. Coolly he twisted into the next room, and, looking out and down, he saw the policemen climb in through the window he had left open for his own bolt-hole. "Jerusalem!" he breathed. "They've both gone in--the poor, damned boobs! I ought to take their numbers, really, and report them for incompetence.... However...."