Blodget was soon in the old house along with some half dozen of the most desperate and knowing thieves in San Francisco.
A dim light burned in the place, which was only just sufficient to let them see each other’s faces.
The falling of the rain upon one of the windows was the only sound that the night brought forth.
‘All’s right,’ said one of them. ‘Here’s Blodget.’
‘Yes,’ said another, ‘we shall now no doubt have a job to do.’
‘Yes, my lads,’ said Blodget, assuming an air of reckless jocularity, which he often thought proper to put on—‘yes, my lads, you will have a little job to do, and it is one that you will like too.’
‘Bravo!—bravo!’
‘You know me, and that it is not likely I should send you on a profitless expedition; but there are a few little arrangements to make before we start.’
‘Name them.’
‘I will. They relate, in the first place, to who is to have the command of these little expeditions?’