Five minutes later he was on board a street car. He was not at all
particular as to its destination. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
This neighborhood was getting entirely too active for him.
CHAPTER XV
THE GANGMAN SEES RED
Exactly thirty minutes after Clay had left him to break into the house,
Johnnie lifted his voice in a loud wail for the police. He had read
somewhere that one can never find an officer when he is wanted, but the
Bull-of-Bashan roar of the cowpuncher brought them running from all
directions.
Out of the confused explanations of the range-rider the first policeman
to reach him got two lucid statements.
"They're white-slavin' a straight girl. This busher says his pal went
in to rescue her half an hour ago and hasn't showed up since," he told
his mates.
With Johnnie bringing up the rear they made a noisy attack on the front
door of Number 121. Almost immediately it was opened from the inside.
Four men had come down the stairs in a headlong rush to cut off the
escape of one who had outwitted and taunted them.
Those who wanted to get in and those who wanted to get out all tried to
talk at once, but as soon as the police recognized Jerry Durand they
gave him the floor.
"We're after a flat-worker," explained the ex-pugilist. "He must be
tryin' for a roof getaway." He turned and led the joint forces back up
the stairs.
Thugs and officers surged up after him, carrying with them in their
rush the Runt.
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