“They want the expected interview in a house with which they are not identified, yet in which it can be safely held,” Chick rightly reasoned. “This isolated old place just serves them, and they feel sure of not being traced from it. I reckon that won’t be necessary, by Jove, if I can get in my work without a hitch.”
Margate had led the way into the house, followed by his three confederates.
Chick could see that they had left the door ajar, however, and it was obvious that not one of them feared having been watched, for not a curtain stirred at any of the windows, denoting the precaution of stealthily looking out.
“I’ll wait a few minutes and then take a chance,” Chick muttered. “I can slip in there unheard. I’ll wager I can thwart any knavery they have up their sleeves. It’s only twenty yards from the end of the open shed to that side of the house. It would be child’s play to reach the back door from that place.”
The sun had set and the dusk of the November afternoon was beginning to gather.
Chick looked around for another dwelling, or signs of persons traveling the road, but none met his searching gaze. He felt that he must tackle the task single-handed, and that a step taken at that time might be of later advantage.
Not a sound came from within the house, nor a sign of the men who had entered it.
Starting abruptly when the dusk, began to deepen, Chick crept back of the long shed, quickly picking his way to that end of it nearest the house. He then waited and listened briefly, and he could hear the intermittent blows of a hammer.
“That does settle it,” he said to himself. “They evidently are busy, so here’s my chance.”
Darting quickly to the back steps, Chick crouched and listened again, still hearing the hammer, and he then pushed the door open a few inches. The dim hall was deserted. It ran straight through the house to the front door.