At length, however, by patience and perseverance, combined with skill, he contrived to send back the bolt from the socket by slow degrees.
This done he opened the door, entered, and closed it after him, so that it might not attract the notice of any of the police.
He found himself in an enormously large apartment, which was more than a third filled with goods of various descriptions.
The windows of the warehouse were covered with dust and dirt, and the place was in comparative darkness.
Peace carried no dark lantern with him on this expedition; but he had provided himself with a box of silent lucifers, which were warranted to “ignite only on the box.”
He struck one of these, and was about to take his way up the stairs to make an inspection of the upper portions of the building when, much to his surprise and chagrin, he was confronted by the night watchman, who emerged from a wooden hutch in one of the corners of the warehouse.
“You audacious scoundrel!” exclaimed the watchman, springing like a panther upon Peace, in so sudden a manner that he had no time to elude the man’s grasp.
“Leave go,” cried Peace, in a voice of concentrated passion; “unhand me, or it will be worse for you.”
“I’m not going to part with you so easily—you’re my prisoner,” answered the porter, winding big fingers around the collar. “You’re caught, my gaol-bird, this time, and no mistake.”
The lighted lucifer had fallen from Peace’s hand upon the first assault, and the two men were struggling for the mastery in comparative darkness.