“Can't see anybody but that one-eyed fellow, Broderick, but there might be more.”
A flash of memory came to me, and I felt in my pocket for Mother Borton's mysterious scrawl. “Give that to a one-eyed man,” she had said. It was a forlorn hope, but worth the trying.
“Hand this to Broderick,” I said, “as soon as you can do it without any one's seeing you.”
Wilson did not like the task, but he took the envelope and silently brought the door ajar. His first investigations were evidently reassuring, for he soon had half his body outside.
“He's got it,” he said on reappearing.
A little later there was a gentle tap at the door, and the head of the one-eyed man was thrust in.
“It's as much as my life's worth,” he whispered. “What do you want me to do?”
“How many men are in the street below here?”
“There's one; but more are in call.”
“Well, I want him got out of the way.”