"What was it?" I whispered.
"I don't know."
"I heard nothing."
"It was a coo-hoo--like the call of an owl, but--"
"But you thought it was a man?" Lockhart nodded. Brown and Wilson had
not heard it.
"Was it inside or outside?"
"It was out here, I thought," said Lockhart doubtfully, pointing to the
street that ran by the side of the hotel.
I opened the door to the dark bedroom in which Abrams kept watch. It
swung noiselessly to my cautious touch. For a moment I could see
nothing of my henchman, but the window was open. Then, in the
obscurity, I thought I discovered his body lying half-way across the
window-sill. I waited for him to finish his observations on the
weather, but as he made no move I was struck with the fear that he had
met foul play and touched him lightly.
In a flash he had turned on me, and I felt the muzzle of a revolver
pressing against my side.
"If you wouldn't mind turning that gun the other way, it would suit me
just as well," I said.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Abrams with a gulp. "I thought Darby Meeker
and his gang was at my back, sure."
"Did you hear anything?" I asked.
"Yes; there was a call out here a bit ago. And there's half a dozen men
or more out there now--right at the corner."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes; I was a-listening to 'em when you give me such a start."
"What were they saying?"
"I couldn't hear a word."
"Give warning at the first move to get into the house. Blaze away with
your gun if anybody tries to climb on to the porch.
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