Before they came up to it, the officer made a détour and reached the ground at the back.
"That is the house," said he in a whisper. "It is one of the most infamous gambling hells in the city. You can see no lights because all the shutters are closed, and no doubt there are blankets over them; but—holloa, there's a light shining through that window!" he went on, pointing to one that had just come into view as they reached the garden.
The two men now climbed over the fence, and, dropping into the shrubs on the other side, cautiously neared the building. Telling George to remain where he was, the inspector crawled right up to the window, through the shutters of which a stream of light poured.
Watching him eagerly, George saw him place his hand on the sill and peer through the crack. The moments slipped by, and his eye remained glued to the crack. Suddenly there was a rustle in the bush close by. It passed unnoticed, for George had eyes and ears for nothing but what his chief was doing. Again there was a rustle, this time more pronounced. Still it remained unnoticed.
The inspector suddenly left the window, and the next moment rejoined his companion.
"Well?" whispered Helmar, anxiously. "What news?"
The inspector's face was very grave, and his tones, as he answered, were full of import.
"The best—or rather, the worst. I recognized two people there, one a trusted member of the official staff, and the other a man who has been suspected for a long time. We had better get back—there is nothing more to be done to-night, I have seen all I wish to. To-morrow—we'll wait until to-morrow."
As he finished speaking, he turned sharply round and peered into the scrubbly bush behind them.
"What is it?" asked Helmar, his hand slipping to his revolver unconsciously.