Had Dalton ventured so much as a move to leave his perch, Chick would
have been after him like a terrier after a rat.
At the end of five minutes, however, Dalton made a preliminary move. He
hitched the reins around the whipstock, then stared for a second or two
toward Venner's house, fifty yards away through the surrounding park.
Then he suddenly swung round on his seat, and growled ferociously at
Chick, at the same time signifying with gestures the communication he
imagined would not be verbally understood:
"See here, you swarthy-faced snake fiend, I'm bound up yonder, to see
what's going on! You sit where you are, d'ye hear, and I'll be back in a
jiffy, if things are all right! If they're not, ---- you, I'll be back
just the same--with a gun!"
As if moved by a wish to understand him, Chick arose in the body of the
carriage while Dalton was thus declaring himself. He heard and
understood, all right, and it necessitated his getting in his work a
little earlier than was planned. For Chick would take no such chances as
this that Nick's operations in the house would be interfered with.
As the last word left Dalton's lips, the arm of the detective shot out
through the darkness, and closed with the grip of a vise around the
ruffian's neck, throttling him to silence.
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