Wainwright nodded his agreement with me.
“And then,” I continued, “they won't try to do anything until after dark—not before the middle of the night, I should say—or until the townspeople have gone to bed.”
“You're right, sir,” said Abrams. “A dark night and a clear field suits that gang best.”
“Well, here's the dinner,” said I; “so you can make yourselves easy. Porter, you may keep an eye on the stairway, and Brown may watch from the windows. The rest of us will fall to.”
In the midst of the meal Porter came in.
“Darby Meeker's in the office below,” he announced.
“Very good,” I said. “Just take Fitzhugh and Wilson with you, and ask Mr. Meeker to join us.”
The men looked blank. Porter was the first to speak.
“You don't mean—”
“I mean to bring him up here,” I said blandly, rising from the table. “I suppose, though, it's my place as host to do the honors.”