Hitherto, in the house, in the bright glare of the gas lights, he had known that the first suspicious movement he made would have ensured his being instantly and remorselessly shot down, his mission unfulfilled.
But here in the open air, in the night that the moon illumined but faintly, it was different, and as he watched for his opportunity he felt that sooner or later it was sure to come.
But Deede Dawson was alert and wary, his pistol never left his hand, he kept so well on his guard he gave Dunn no opening to take him unawares, and Dunn did not wish to run too desperate a chance, since he was sure that sooner or later one giving fair chance of success would present itself.
“Do you want it carried any further?” he asked. “It's very heavy.”
“I suppose you mean you're wondering what's in it?” said Deede Dawson sharply.
“It's nothing to me what's in it—silver or anything else,” retorted Dunn. “Do you want me to carry it further, that's all I asked?”
“No,” answered Deede Dawson. “No, I don't. Do you know, if you knew what was really in it, you'd be surprised?”
“Very likely,” answered Dunn. “Why not?”
“Yes, you would be surprised,” Deede Dawson repeated, and suddenly shouted into the darkness: “Are you ready? Are you ready there?”
Dunn was very startled, for somehow, he had supposed all along that Deede Dawson was quite alone.