"And does Hallen know, does he mistrust that O'Brien is a detective?" Oakes laughed. "Boys, you're slow. Of course he does. He has even found out there is a well-known detective by the name of Larkin who is fond of the alias O'Brien. This Larkin has a scar under his hair in front. We will perhaps be able to identify O'Brien soon." "What made you first mistrust?" I asked. "Why, remember how curiously O'Brien acted when we hunted the robe--how indifferent he was--how he used dialect!" "Yes, but why--how?" "Well," interrupted Oakes, "that dialect was poor--unnatural, consequently perhaps assumed. That was the first clue to explain the curious actions of Maloney's loving friend, who has stuck to him like molasses to a fly's leg." "Let us go into town and have dinner at the hotel," I cried, disgusted at my lack of perspicacity. My invitation was accepted with the usual alacrity of hungry men, and we soon were striding along--Hallen, Oakes and Moore in front and Dowd, Elliott and myself behind. We walked close together, discussing the events and joking at one another in great good-natured animal spirits, for things were coming to a head now and Broadway was not so far off after all. As the darkness closed in upon us, relieved only by the faint glimmering of the rising moon, we were in a compact body--an excellent target. Strong in the presence of each other, we had for a moment forgotten that we were in the land where a brain disordered was at liberty. We, the criminal hunters, were but human--and this was our error. _CHAPTER XXI_ _The Attack_ We had advanced along River Road to its junction with the Highway, and Martin had just closed in from behind as Dr. Moore started to say something about the dinner that was coming, when, just as we came into the shadows of the great trees to our left, a flame, instantaneous, reddish-blue, streaked forth from the side of the road and a deep, muffled, crashing sound came to our ears. Everyone recognized it instantly--it was not the high crack of a modern weapon such as we carried, but the unmistakable guttural of an old-style heavy revolver. An instant, and the voice of Oakes rang out, cool, but intensely earnest, "To cover"--and we covered. Never before had six men melted from a close formation so rapidly, so silently, so earnestly. Dr. Moore, Elliott and I reached the trees on the other side together, and lost our identity trying to find a place for our hunted bodies. We lay down in a heap behind a burned tree-stump, and said "damn" together. Somewhere around was the fiend of Mona, and somewhere were Oakes, Hallen and Dowd, but not with us--we could swear to this, for we were in a class by ourselves and we knew one another even in the darkness.