There was a rush of feet in the room. I expected that we would be overwhelmed. Instead, as together we pushed on the now half-open door, the room emptied like a sieve. Whoever it might be who had taken refuge there had probably disappeared, among the first, by tacit understanding of the rest, for the whole thing had the air of being run off according to instructions.
"It's a collar!" had sounded through the room, the moment we had appeared at the door, and it was now empty.
I wondered whether the letter which Garrick had found might not, after all, have brought us straight to the last resort of those whom we sought.
"Where have they gone?" I panted, as the door opened at last, and we found only one man in the place.
There he stood apparently ready to be arrested, in fact courting it if we could show the proper authority, since he knew that it would be only a question of hours when he would be out again and the game would be resumed, in full blast.
The man shook his head blankly in answer to my question.
"There must be a trap door somewhere," cried Garrick. "It is no use to find it. They are all on the street by this time. Quick—before anyone catches us in the rear."
We had been not a moment too soon in gaining the street. Though we had done nothing but attempt to get into the stuss room, ostensibly as players, the crowd in the cafe was pressing forward.
On the street, we saw men filing quickly from a cellar, a few doors down the block. We mingled with the excited crowd in order to cover ourselves.
"That must have been where the trap door and passage led," whispered
Garrick.