"Hold up your hands."

The man stared blankly. Jacob interpreted. He hesitated a moment,
then held up his hands above his head. The Sergeant turned him
about.

"You will not be having any weepons on you?" said the Sergeant,
searching his pockets. "Hello! What's this?" He pulled out the
false beard.

The same instant there was a gasping cry from Rosenblatt. All
turned in his direction. Into his dim eyes and pallid face suddenly
sprang life; fear and hate struggling to find expression in the
look he fixed upon the stranger. With a tremendous effort he raised
his hand, and pointing to the stranger with a long, dirty finger,
he gasped, "Arrest--he murder--" and fell back again unconscious.

Even as he spoke there was a quick movement. The lantern was dashed
to the ground, the room plunged into darkness and before the
Sergeant knew what had happened, the stranger had shaken himself
free from his grasp, torn open the door and fled.

With a mighty oath, the Sergeant was after him, but the darkness
and the crowd interfered with his progress, and by the time he had
reached the door, the man had completely vanished. At the door
stood Murchuk with the ambulance.

"See a man run out here?" demanded the Sergeant.