When they reached the front of the building they could see the dark forms of the three troopers who flitted across the grass and waited in readiness back of the mill in case any one should attempt to escape that way. Mr. Hardy tried the front door. It swung open. He stepped inside. The Secret Service men followed. The boys crowded close at their heels. "Which room?" whispered the detective. "At the top of the stairs," Frank told him. At that moment the door of the workroom opened and they could see a man run out onto the landing. "Who's there?" called out a startled voice. It was Markel. He was clearly silhouetted in the light from the workroom. "The police," answered Mr. Hardy. "Put up your hands! We have you covered." In reply, Markel flung himself flat on the floor, there was a streak of crimson, and a revolver shot roared out. Mr. Hardy and the Secret Service men had their weapons ready and they replied with a fusillade of shots. The light in the room at the head of the landing had gone out. With a bound, Mr. Hardy reached the stairs, then raced up the steps. When he reached the landing, however, he found that it was deserted. Markel had escaped the bullets and had crawled back into the room, for the door was closed. Fenton Hardy launched himself against the door of the workroom, but it did not budge. He could hear sounds of voices, a noise of banging and of running about in the room beyond. The Secret Service men and the two boys reached the landing. "Break in the door!" snapped Mr. Hardy. Together they launched themselves against the door, and there was a splintering sound, but still the barrier held. "Again!" With a concerted rush they plunged forward once more. The door fell in with a crash. Fenton Hardy switched on his flashlight, for the room was in darkness. There was the printing press, there was the table with the packages of counterfeit money--but the counterfeiters were gone. The window was wide open. They had made their escape that way. From beneath the window came the sound of rough voices, a shot, a loud yell. Mr. Hardy ran to the window and looked out. "We got 'em, sir!" called out a voice. Underneath the willow tree were six figures, and three of them were troopers. Each man held a prisoner. The counterfeiters had been captured. CHAPTER XXV THE RECKONING When the full story of the activities of the counterfeiters became known next day, Bayport found that the Hardy boys had succeeded in breaking up one of the most dangerous bands that had ever baffled the Federal authorities.