"Where did they go?" they heard one of the smugglers ask.
"Into the attic," replied another. "Now we've got them where we want them."
"That's what you said last time."
"They can't get out of there. We've got them cornered."
Snackley's voice broke in.
"Hardy!" he shouted.
Mr. Hardy did not answer.
"Listen, Hardy!" went on Snackley. "We'll give you one minute to come down out of there."
Still no answer.
"The floors are thin, Hardy! We can fire right through 'em. You can't get out. We have you cornered. Better come down."
Frank flashed the light from side to side. It was evident that the smuggler spoke the truth. They were indeed cornered.
An interval of silence followed. Then came:
"Your last chance, Hardy!"
Frank flashed the light upon his father. Mr. Hardy was inspecting the chamber of the revolver. He held out the weapon with a gesture of despair. There were no more shells.
A shot sounded from below and a bullet ripped its way savagely through the flooring but a foot or so away from where the three sat.
