They wore windbreakers and slacks. One of them was short and pudgy, the other two were average-looking men. All of them carried Venn guns. They talked, briefly. One of the average men seemed to be the leader, Wales thought, from the way he gesticulated and spoke. "What are they going to do?" whispered Martha. "Look for me," Wales said. "A hundred to one they've left a man at the Observatory, and at your home--in case I come there. And these three are going to search downtown for me." The three separated. One walked east along Washington Street. The other one got back into the car and drove off on North Jefferson. The remaining man--the dark-haired pudgy one, started going around the Diamond, keeping close to the fronts of the stores, ready to dart into cover at any moment. An idea came to Wales, and he acted upon it at once. He crept to the front door of the hardware store, unlocked it, and silently opened it a few inches. He came back, rummaged frantically in the dimness of the shelves till he found a spool of wire. Then he told Martha, "Come on, now--get down behind this counter. And stay there." "Jay, he's coming this way!" she protested. "He'll see the door ajar--" He interrupted. "Yes. I want him to. Do as I say." Her face white in the dusk, she got down behind the counter, back in the middle of the store. Wales crept swiftly to the front of the store, whipped behind the counter there, and crouched down. Now, with the door ajar, he could hear the pudgy man coming along the sidewalk. Then he saw him, his heavy, doughy face turning alertly from side to side as he came along. The man stopped and the tommy-gun in his hands came up fast. He had seen the hardware-store door was a little open. With the gun held high, the pudgy man came slowly to the door. His foot kicked it wide open. He peered into the dimness of the store, poised on his feet like a dancer, ready to turn instantly. Wales' fingers closed on a little carton of hinges, under the counter. He suddenly hurled the little box toward the other side of the store. It struck a display of tinware with a tremendous clatter. The pudgy man whirled toward that direction, in a flash. With a movement as swift, Wales darted out in the same moment and jammed his pistol into the pudgy man's back. "Let go of that gun," Wales said, "or I'll blow your spine out!" He saw the pudgy man stiffen and arch his back, in a convulsive movement. Wales' finger tightened on the trigger. But, before he pulled it, the tommy-gun clattered to the floor. "Martha," said Wales. She came, fast, her face white and scared in the dusk. "Take this wire and tie his wrists behind him," Wales said. "Don't get in front of my gun." With shaking fingers, she did as he ordered. "Now shut the front door." Wales turned the pudgy man around. "Now sit down, on the floor. First sound you make above a whisper, you're dead."