The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-11-15
CHAPTER xXXVI

Bobby Wallace hunched himself back of the stunted, soot-blackened bush and held himself motionless with @ tense effort that made his muscles ache. The light from the auto headlights inside the factory yard seemed to blaze with a bril- liance beyond that of midday. For . long, agonizing minute he was irl the very center of the brightness while he covered low in sudden fear, not daring to move - with little sprig from the bush tickling his ear.
 Then, at last, the rumble of the engine grew louder as the car went into gear; the light swung slowly past him as the car turned to drive to the gate at the front of the encircling fence, and at last he was in darkness again.
 He waited there 8 few seconds longer, straining his ears; he could hear no sounds that would indicate that he had been dis covered. He grew bold enough to raise his head and peek out, over the bush. ..5
 The fence was not more than 15 feet away, and the factory wall was perhaps 40 feet beyond that. The car was trundling along over uneven ground between the fence and the building, and as 1t reached the front, where the gate was - 8 matter of 60 or 70 feet to Bobby's right - it came to a halt, its lamps throwing the gate and its supporting uprights ot metal into sudden relief.
 Bobby blinked, until his eyes got used to the darkness, and stood up, pering beyond the fence intently. No one was visible along the wall; down at the front, where the car was, few figures were visible.
 One man, evidently the watch man as he crossed the beam of the lights a holster was visible on his hip was sauntering over Go open the gate. Two others had come out of the factory and were standing by the running board, talking to someone in the car They had left the factory door open and stood in the light that came out from inside.
 The ground where Bobby stood was full of cinders and little stones, and it was hard to walk without making a noise; but with infinite care Bobby tried to draw nearer. He had proceeded dozen feet or more when the watchman swung the wire gate open. The cars motor hummed more loudly again, the men who had been standing at the running board stepped back, and the car went on through the gate.
 As it did so, its rear end passed into the light that came from the factory door. Thanking the for tune which had given him good eyes, Bobby peered at the license number, silently repeating the digits over and over to fix them in his memory: FH-1973-x. Then the car passed out of the light and disappeared up the little ravine, its red tail light blinking brightly as 1t passed out of sight. The watchman closed the gate and the other two men went back into the factory and closed the door, leaving the place at the fac- tory entrance as dark as the rest of the landscape. Bobby stood there. gaping at nothing, with his mouth open.
 To be sure, he had seen nothing in the least out of the way ex- cept for the fact that FH-1973-X was the license number of the car owned by Mark Hopkins, his em- ployer, whom he suspected of run ming a secret and illegal factory where bullet-proof cars were made Sor gangstersl
 He must have stood there for three or four minutes. quite mo- tionless, oblivious to his surround ings, while he tried to think things out.
 His first impression was that all of this confirmed his worst sus- picions. He had in his pocket an
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