Perhaps that was the reason he used the gun,
for if he had shot one of us with a pistol I had my own automatic
ready myself to blaze away. This way he got me, too.
"A stupefying gun!" repeated Dillon. "I should say so. I don't
know what happened--yet," he added, blinking.
"I came to first," went on Garrick, now busily looking about, as
we were all recovered. "I found that none of us was wounded, and
so I guessed what had happened. However, while we were unconscious
the villain, whoever he was, succeeded in running his car out of
the garage and getting away. He locked the door after him, but I
have managed to work it open again."
Garrick was now examining the floor of the garage, turning the
headlight of the machine as much as he could on successive parts
of the floor.
"By George, Tom," he exclaimed to me suddenly, "see those marks in
the grease? Do you recognize them by this time? It is the same
tire-mark again--Warrington's car--without a doubt!"
Dillon had taken the photographs which Garrick had made several
days before from the prints left by the side of the road in New
Jersey, and was comparing them himself with the marks on the floor
of the garage, while Garrick explained them to him hurriedly, as
he had already done to me.
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