They had not long to wait. Heavy traffic passed at short intervals.
"Now!" said the stranger.
Kenneth gave a heave. In a moment two planks were removed. Resting his arms on the edges of those on either side of the gap, he hoisted himself up. His companion quickly followed. They stood in the room.
The next half minute was filled to breathlessness. It was a bedroom. A street lamp outside threw a little light into it. Hanging from a peg on the door was a policeman's tunic and helmet.
"Fortune's our friend," murmured the stranger.
In ten seconds he had helped Kenneth to don the uniform. They crept out of the room, and peeped over the stair rail. The way was clear. All sounds within were smothered by the noise in the street. They stole downstairs, past the closed door of the guardroom, through the outer door, and into the open. "War with England!" shouted a newsman at the corner.
"We win the first trick!" chuckled the stranger, as they hurried along.
[CHAPTER III--THE SECOND TRICK]
"The first trick--yes: but what are trumps?" said Kenneth, in reply to his companion's remark.
"Toujours l'audace!" the stranger answered. "But my life isn't worth a moment's purchase. I owe you a few minutes; 'for this relief much thanks.' Leave me now, and make for your friends. They will look after you. I have none."