"Well, we're safe enough now," came back the voice above, which any of his acquaintances would have recognized as Jack Curtiss'. "I've got the rest of them in this other sack. Here, take this one when I drop it."
Bill made a bungling effort to catch the heavy receptacle that fell following Jack's warning, but in the darkness he failed, and it crashed down with quite a clatter.
"Look out!" warned Jack anxiously, "some one might hear that."
"Not in this peaceful community. You seem to forget that eleven o'clock is the very latest bedtime in Hampton."
After a brief interval Jack Curtiss himself slipped out of the side door of the armory and joined his friend on the dark sidewalk.
"Well, what's the next move on the program?" asked Bill.
"We'll sneak down Bailey's Lane—there are no lights there—to Hank's place. Sam will be waiting off there with the boat," rejoined Jack.
"Yes, if he hasn't lost his nerve," was Bill's rejoinder as they shouldered their sacks and slipped off into the deep blackness shrouding the side streets.
"Well, if he has lost it, he'll come near losing his head, too," grated out Jack, "but don't you fear, he wants that fifty too badly to go back on us."
Silently as two cats the cronies made their way down the tree-bordered thoroughfare known as Bailey's Lane and after a few minutes gained the beach.