Towards ten o'clock he left the house, and went down a quiet byway to Quay Flat, and as soon as he got well on the Flat and away from the gas-lamps, he could see little or nothing. But Chippy had haunted the Flat all his life, and could find his way across it blindfold. He headed steadily forward, and a few minutes brought him to the spot where the huge bulk of the warehouse buildings stood at the river's edge, black against the sky.
He now commenced a stealthy patrol of the walks, every sense on the alert, and creeping along as softly as possible. The warehouse occupied an isolated position on the quay. The river front was now washed by only a few feet of water, for the tide was nearly out; but this side was only approachable by boat. A rude pavement of flag-stones ran round the other three sides, and along this pavement the Raven meant to hold his patrol march.
The march came to an end almost as soon as it had begun. Chippy turned an angle of the walls, and pulled up dead. He could hear footsteps a short distance away. He flitted off to the shelter of a pile of rusty anchors and iron cables which he knew lay within twenty yards of where he stood. He found his cover, and crouched behind it. He had barely gained it when a flood of light swept the pavement he had just left, and heavy boots tramped forward.
'Huh!' grunted Chippy to himself, 'they've got a bobby on the job. No call for a boy scout here. I might as well be off home an' go to bed.'
The policeman came forward, stood at the corner, and yawned; then he slowly paced forward on his beat once more. Chippy waited twenty minutes, but the constable persistently haunted the warehouse walls; it was clear that they were the special object of his care to-night.
'It's old Martin,' thought Chippy, who had recognised the constable; 'he's gooin' to potter round all night. I'll get 'ome again.'
Martin disappeared round the farther angle of the walls, and Chippy stood up to move softly away. But he did not move. He stood still listening intently. At the moment he straightened himself he felt certain that he heard a low chuckle somewhere behind him in the darkness.
Yes, there was someone there. Now he caught the voices of men who conversed together in tones little above a whisper. Chippy judged they were some twenty yards from him. Next he heard stealthy sounds as they moved away.
Who were these people who had crept up so silently that the scout had heard nothing? Chippy meant to find out, if possible, and already he had bent down, and his fingers were going like the wind as he whipped the laces out of the eyelets of his boots. Off came the latter; off came his stockings. The stockings went into his pockets; the boots were tied together by their laces and slung round his neck, and away slipped Chippy in search of the men who had laughed and whispered together.
He had lost a few seconds in taking off his boots, and the sounds of their stealthy movements had died away. Chippy dropped flat, and laid his ear to the ground. This gave him their direction at once, and, to his surprise, the sounds told him that they were going towards the river. That was odd. The quay edge was a very dangerous place on so dark a night as this, but these men were going down to it, and not across towards the town, as Chippy had expected.