"Overalls," says I. "Plumber, maybe."

"Isn't that a knife-handle sticking out of the end of the bundle?" asks
the Lieutenant.

So it was; a butcher knife, at that. He has stopped opposite the double
gates and is scowlin' around. Then he glances quick at the house. A
side shutter opens just then and a dust-cloth is shaken vigorous. Seein'
which, he promptly pushes through the gates.

"Ha!" says the Lieutenant. "A signal. He'll be the one to attach the
fuse and light it, eh?"

Well, I admit that up to that time I hadn't been takin' all this very
serious, discountin' most of Cecil's suspicions as due to an over-worked
imagination. But now I'm beginnin' to feel thrills down my spine.

What if this was a bomb plot? Some sort of bunk was being put over
here--no gettin' away from that. And if one of our shell factories was
in danger of being dynamited, here was my cue to make a medal play,
wa'n't it?

"I am for telephoning the authorities at once," announces Cecil.

"Ah, you don't know our bonehead cops," says I. "Besides, if we can
block the game ourselves, what's the use? Let's get 'em in the act. I'm
going to pipe off our friend with the meat-knife."

"I--I've only a .34-caliber automatic with me," says the Lieutenant,
reachin' into his side pocket.