We looked rather like three squat square Dutchmen as we set off; but the long grey dustcoats rendered us sufficiently inconspicuous, and as the weather had changed and the light was bad, we attracted no attention in the streets.
The wind was rising and a light rain falling, and there was every promise of a somewhat dirty night. This was all the better for our purpose.
When we were near the landing-stage, Bryant went on ahead in search of the new friend he had made and presently we saw the two together close to the sheds. They stood talking for a few minutes and then walked away, and disappeared round the end of the further building.
“He lives over that way,” said Burroughs. “We may safely go.”
The rain was falling fast now and the wind coming in gusty squalls across the bay and not a soul was to be seen as we slipped into the shed.
We hid ourselves among a large quantity of hay, and were scarcely settled when some one else entered the shed, and I heard him clamber among some big packing cases. I jumped to the conclusion that either we had been seen or that Volheno had decided to put a police agent on the watch.
I dared not speak to Burroughs, and in this trying uncertainty we waited until the watchman entered, gave a casual glance round with his lantern, and then locked the doors.
I racked my wits to know what to do about the unwelcome interloper. Bryant might come to the back entrance at any minute, and we should be instantly discovered.
Then to my profound relief I heard his voice.
“Are you there, sir?” he asked in a whisper.