I opened the door to the dark bedroom in which Abrams kept watch. It swung noiselessly to my cautious touch. For a moment I could see nothing of my henchman, but the window was open. Then, in the obscurity, I thought I discovered his body lying half-way across the window-sill. I waited for him to finish his observations on the weather, but as he made no move I was struck with the fear that he had met foul play and touched him lightly.
In a flash he had turned on me, and I felt the muzzle of a revolver pressing against my side.
“If you wouldn't mind turning that gun the other way, it would suit me just as well,” I said.
“Oh, it's you, is it?” said Abrams with a gulp. “I thought Darby Meeker and his gang was at my back, sure.”
“Did you hear anything?” I asked.
“Yes; there was a call out here a bit ago. And there's half a dozen men or more out there now—right at the corner.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes; I was a-listening to 'em when you give me such a start.”
“What were they saying?”
“I couldn't hear a word.”