Ned knew the officer would find nothing—except the stock certificate. There was the trouble. Ned thought every officer in New York had a description of it and was looking for the boy who carried it. No, he couldn’t allow himself to be searched.
“It’s cold!” exclaimed Cassidy suddenly, as he shivered in his long nightrobe. “I’m goin’ to get dressed. Better not try to run or I’ll nab you. I’ll be in the next room.”
He went into his own apartment and Ned could hear him putting on his clothes. By the grunts and puffs that ensued he judged Cassidy was having hard work, as he was a large man, and putting on a shirt was no easy matter.
Then a daring plan came into Ned’s mind. In spite of the excitement caused by the proprietor’s entrance into his room and the loud talking that followed the accusation, none of the other lodgers had gotten up. Even sending the porter for a policeman had not excited any curiosity.
Ned resolved to make his escape if possible. He thought he could slip past Cassidy’s door and down the stairs before Bill would return with a policeman. He got upon the bed and looked over the partition into Cassidy’s room. The proprietor was putting on his shoes and had his back to the door. There was a light at the far end of the corridor, illuminating it dimly.
Ned took off his own shoes, and, carrying them in his hand stepped to the door of his room. He stole softly into the corridor and was about to slip past Cassidy’s room when the door of the apartment opposite his opened just a crack and a hoarse voice whispered:
“Hey, cully! If youse wants t’ make a git-away, go de other way an’ down de back stairs. Youse kin slip around through de alley an’ inter de street ’fore de cop comes. I heard what youse said and ye sounds honest, an’ dat’s more’n ye kin say fer a lot in dis joint. Quick, some one’s comin’ up de front stairs!”
Then, before Ned could thank his unknown friend, the door was shut. Ned could hear Cassidy getting up from the chair on which he had seated himself to lace his shoes. There was not a moment to spare.
Making no sound in his stocking feet, Ned hurried down the dark corridor, away from the front of the building. He had to trust almost entirely to feeling, as the gleam from the single lamp farther toward the front stairs did not penetrate thus far. He did not even know where the rear flight was, but trusted to luck to find them. With his hand stretched out in front of him, to avoid running into any obstructions he went on as fast as he could. Suddenly he turned a corner in the passage and saw a dim light. Then he observed a flight of stairs leading downward. He listened a moment. Behind him he could hear the tramp of heavy feet, and guessed that Bill had returned with the policeman.
Ned hurried down the stairs. He stopped only long enough, when he reached the bottom, to put his shoes on, but did not lace them. He only tucked the ends of the strings into the tops so they would not dangle and trip him if he had to run. Then Ned stepped from the hallway into the dark and deserted street. Once more, though entirely innocent, he had been obliged to flee from officers of the law.