For answer John Allen put his hand quickly on Poole's arm to lower the pistol. "No good again, mates," said he. "Ralley ain't there."
"Not there!" retorted Poole with a strong oath.
"I'm as nigh sure of it as I can be," said Allen. "Wait till they come nearer."
It proved to be so. Ralley for some reason or other was not with the men. Denton again gave vent to a furious oath.
Tramp, tramp, tramp; their regular tread sounded in the stillness of the night as they passed. Poole had crouched down again.
The steps died away in the distance, and the conspirators ventured to raise their heads. Allen happened to look in the direction of the gates.
"Here he is!" burst forth Allen, with almost a suppressed scream. "Something must have kept him back. Now's our time, mates. Here's Ralley."
"That ain't his hat, Jack Allen," dissented one.
"Hat be smothered! it's himself," said John Allen.
Ralley was coming on quickly, a dark, low-crowned hat somewhat drawn over his brows. A minute's silence, during which you might have heard their hearts beat, and then----