In the darkness there was a queer smile on Jimmie Dale's tight lips.

It was no doubt THE officer whom he had passed on the other side of the street.
The other was a smaller man than Jimmie Dale, but powerful for his build--and he fought now with all his strength.

This way and that the two men reeled, staggered, swayed, panting and gasping; and then--they had lurched back close to the office door--with a sudden swing, every muscle brought into play for a supreme effort, Jimmie Dale hurled the other from him, sending the man sprawling back to the floor of the office, and in the winking of an eye had slammed shut the door and turned the key.
There was a bull-like roar, the shrill CHEEP-CHEEP-CHEEP of the patrolman's whistle, and a shattering crash as the officer flung his body against the partition--then the bark of a revolver shot, the tinkle of breaking glass, as the man fired through the office window--and past Jimmie Dale, speeding now for the front door, a bullet hummed viciously.
Out on the street dashed Jimmie Dale, whipping the mask from his face--and glanced like a hawk around him.

For all the racket, the neighbourhood had not yet been aroused--no one was in sight.

From just overhead came the rattle of a downtown elevated train.