I was satisfied to have him cry, for the more noise he made
the less our movements would be heard. I had a plan that I thought
might be carried out.
While the others were at work, I cautiously raised the window and
peered through the shutters. The rain was falling briskly, and the wind
still blew a gale. I thought I distinguished the dark figure of a man
on guard within a few feet of the building, and my heart sank.
"How many are in the parlor, Wilson?" I asked.
Wilson applied his eye to the keyhole.
"Can't see anybody but that one-eyed fellow, Broderick, but there might
be more."
A flash of memory came to me, and I felt in my pocket for Mother
Borton's mysterious scrawl. "Give that to a one-eyed man," she had
said. It was a forlorn hope, but worth the trying.
"Hand this to Broderick," I said, "as soon as you can do it without any
one's seeing you."
Wilson did not like the task, but he took the envelope and silently
brought the door ajar. His first investigations were evidently
reassuring, for he soon had half his body outside.
"He's got it," he said on reappearing.
A little later there was a gentle tap at the door, and the head of the
one-eyed man was thrust in.
"It's as much as my life's worth," he whispered. "What do you want me
to do?"
"How many men are in the street below here?"
"There's one; but more are in call."
"Well, I want him got out of the way."
"That's easy," said Broderick, with a diabolical wink of his one eye.
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