A quick dash and we had crossed the stretch of open field that separated us from a dark object which now loomed up, and from behind which it seemed had come the firing.  As we approached, I saw it was a shed beside the railroad, which was depressed at this point some twelve or fifteen feet.

“They kept us off just long enough,” exclaimed Garrick, glancing up at the lights of the block signals down the road.  “They must be desperate, all right.  Why, they must have jumped a freight as it slowed down for the curve, or perhaps one of them flagged it and held it up.  See?  The red signal shows that a train has just gone through toward New York.  There is no chance to wire ahead, either, from this Ducktown siding.  Here’s where they stood—­look!”

Garrick had picked up a handful of exploded cartridge shells, while he was speaking.  They told a mute story of the last desperate stand of the gunmen.

“I’ll keep these,” he said, shoving them into his pocket.  “They may be of some use later on in connecting to-night’s doings with what has gone before.”

We looked at each other blankly.  There was nothing more to do that night but to return to the now deserted house in the valley where we had left Forbes in charge of Dillon’s man.

Toilsomely and disgusted, we trudged back in silence.

Garrick, however, refused to be discouraged.  Late as it was, he insisted on making a thorough search of the captured house.  It proved to be a veritable arsenal.  Here it seemed that all the new and deadly weapons of the scientific gunman had been made.  The barn, turned into half garage and half workshop, was a mine of interest.

We found it unlocked and entered, Garrick flashing a light about.

“There’s a sight that would do McBirney’s eyes good,” he exclaimed as he bent the rays of the light before us.

Before us, in the back of the barn, stood Warrington’s stolen car--at last.

“They won’t plot anything more—­at least not up here,” remarked Garrick, bending over it.

In the house, we found Jim still with Forbes, who was now completely recovered.  In the possession of his senses, Forbes’ tongue which the anaesthetic gases seemed to have loosened, now became suddenly silent again.  But he stuck doggedly to his story of kidnapping, although he would not or could not add anything to it.  Who the kidnapper was he swore he did not know, except that he had known his face well, by sight, at the gambling joint.

I could make nothing of Forbes.  But of one thing I was sure.  Even if we had not captured the scientific gunman, we had dealt him a severe and crushing blow.  Like Garrick, I had begun to look upon the escape philosophically.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE FRAME-UP

Although I felt discouraged on our return to the city, the morning following our exciting adventure at the mysterious house in the Ramapo valley, Garrick, who never let anything ruffle him long, seemed quite cheerful.