"Oh, you won't be alone long," observed Casey. "The police will be
here as soon as we send 'em word. And here's a crowd outside already."

There was one--made up of men and boys with, here and there, a factory
girl on her way to work. They had seen the two milk wagons in front of
the jewelry store--the store which, though most of the more valuable
pieces were in the safe--still showed in the gleaming windows much that
caught the eye of the passerby. Some one sensed the unusual. Some one
stopped--then another. Some one had caught sight, on peering into the
store, of the prostrate figure with that blotch of red in the white
hair.

The crowd, increasing each minute, pressed against the still locked
front doors. Those in the van flattened their noses against the glass
in grotesque fashion.

"Hurry and get the police!" begged Darcy.

Casey was about to telephone, when Tremlain, who had gone out into the
alley from the side door, hurried back to report:

"Here comes a cop now. Saw the crowd I guess. We can just tell him
what we saw, Casey, and then slide along. I'm late as it is."

"So'm I!"

The policeman, his heavy-soled shoes creaking importantly, came along
the street, hurrying not in the least. He knew whatever it was would
keep for him.