CHAPTER XXIII FOREST CITY'S DOOM
Johnny was up against the most puzzling problem of his whole life. Atensely dramatic situation, a novelist would have called it. Having longsince abandoned the theory that the pink-eyed man was the firebug, he hadfastened upon the hook-nosed man as the real culprit. With this in mind,he had connected past events into an almost unbreakable chain ofcircumstances. He had now but to find the man. And here he was. He hadfound him. But under what strange circumstances! What was to be done? Ifhe called upon the revellers to assist him in apprehending the man theywould laugh merrily, thinking his request a joke. The man, on the otherhand, would not think it a joke. He might choose either to vanish or toput a bullet in Johnny's heart. That he would do one or the other Johnnydid not doubt, for this man was a criminal.
One thing was in Johnny's favor; since he was masked and there wasnothing particularly distinctive about him, it was not probable that hehad been recognized.
In vain he looked about him for a passing policeman; in vain racked hisbrain for a way out.
Then of a sudden there came the flash of a suggestion. He would at leasthave a picture of the man. Only a few days before he had given a smallcamera to Tillie McFadden. In his pocket was a film and some flash-lightpowders he had meant to give her. The camera the stranger had but thismoment won was the same size. The films would fit. The man, though notplaying now, was still in the crowd. He would borrow or buy it.
Without at all knowing what it was about, the stranger parted with hiscamera for a five dollar bill, then went back to play.
Johnny gave Mazie the camera, then pressed the film into her hand as hewhispered:
"Load the camera. Press my hand when you're ready."
She knew about the flash-light powders and appeared to understand, forshe squeezed his hand assuringly.
The stranger was again at the board. He rolled again. By some freak ofchance, this time he won.
"Zwenty-four. Dot vins," said the faker. "Vot do you choose?" His voiceheld a note of irritation.
"What would you suggest?" the stranger asked, turning to Johnny.
It was with the greatest of difficulty that Johnny focussed his mind onthis simple task which at other times and under different circumstanceswould have been a pleasure.
Then a sudden inspiration came to him. At the far corner, and on the topshelf, was a silver pitcher. If the stranger asked for that the man'sback, while he was taking it down, would be turned long enough for Johnnyto prepare a flash.
"I'd take that pitcher," he said steadily, at the same time pointing tothe pitcher.
"Are you ready?" he whispered to Mazie.
"Ready," she answered back.
"When he turns," he whispered. There followed ten seconds of suspensewhich was ended by a loud pop and a blinding flash of light.
The silver pitcher fell with a thump at Johnny's feet. The astonishmentand rage of the man conducting the game was a thing to marvel at. Hisface went white, then purple. As if to snatch the camera away, he leapedat Mazie. She forced her way back into the crowd. Then, just as it seemedthat matters were at their worst, there came a wild cry:
"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"
For a second Johnny believed that someone had been unduly frightened byhis flash and was spreading a false alarm. One glance toward the far endof the park told him the terrible truth. A building at that end, a sortof office, was all ablaze. He had long felt that the place was doomed,and doomed it was!
"And on such a night, with such a throng!" he murmured.
The fire held his eye but a second. The man--he must get that man! He wasgone--no, there he was. He was racing before the fear-mad mob thatthreatened to run him down. In a twinkling Johnny was on his trail.
He had not followed him twenty paces when, to his astonishment, he sawthe man turn and dart through the only door of the great wooden towerwhich loomed two hundred feet in air.
"He--he's trapped!" Johnny panted. "He trapped himself. I wonder why?"
Who could tell? Had a mad fear of the mob driven him into that place asthe hounds drive a deer over the precipice? Had he hoped to slip safelyout a little later?
Whatever the reason, there was little chance of escape. With but onethought in his mind, Johnny Thompson was close behind.
By a single flash of his electric torch Johnny located the man sometwenty steps up a rickety winding staircase that led to the very top ofthe tower. The next second, with his torch off, in utter darkness, Johnnyput his foot on the lower step. A roaring furnace of fire was not farbehind him; a dangerous man before him; but come what might, he wasprepared to do his whole duty.