Blindfolded by Walcott, Earle Ashley, 1859-1931

As we entered, he held the door ajar for a full minute, listening intently. The obscurity of the hall gave back nothing to eye or ear, and at last he closed the door softly and touched a match to the gas.

The room was at the rear corner of the building. There were two windows, one looking to the west, the other to the north and opening on the narrow alley.

"Not so bad after you get in," said Henry, half as an introduction, half as an apology.

"It's luxury after six days of railroading," I replied.

"Well, lie down there, and make the most of it, then," he said, "for there may be trouble ahead." And he listened again at the crack of the door.

"In Heaven's name, Henry, what's up?" I exclaimed with some temper. "You're as full of mysteries as a dime novel."

Henry smiled grimly.

"Maybe you don't recognize that this is serious business," he said.

"I don't understand it at all."

"Well, I'm not joking. There's mischief afoot, and I'm in danger."

"From whom? From what?"

"Never mind that now. It's another person's business--not mine, you understand--and I can't explain until I know whether you are to be one of us or not."

"That's what I came for, isn't it?"

"Hm! You don't seem to be overly pleased with the job."

"Which isn't surprising, when I haven't the first idea what it is, except that it seems likely to get me killed or in jail."

"Oh, if you're feeling that way about it, I know of another job that will suit you better in--"

"I'm not afraid," I broke in hotly. "But I want to see the noose before I put my head in it."

"Then I'm sure the assistant bookkeeper's place I have in mind will--"

"Confound your impudence!" I cried, laughing in spite of myself at the way he was playing on me. "Assistant bookkeeper be hanged! I'm with you from A to Z; but if you love me, don't keep me in the dark."

"I'll tell you all you need to know. Too much might be dangerous."

I was about to protest that I could not know too much, when Henry raised his hand with a warning to silence. I heard the sound of a cautious step outside. Then Henry sprang to the door, flung it open, and bolted down the passage. There was the gleam of a revolver in his hand. I hurried after him, but as I crossed the threshold he was coming softly back, with finger on lips.

"I must see to the guards again. I can have them together by midnight."

"Can I help?"

"No. Just wait here till I get back. Bolt the door, and let nobody in but me. It isn't likely that they will try to do anything before midnight. If they do--well, here's a revolver. Shoot through the door if anybody tries to break it down."

I stood in the door, revolver in hand, watched him down the hall, and listened to his footsteps as they descended the stairs and at last faded away into the murmur of life that came up from the open street.

CHAPTER II

A CRY FOR HELP