“That’s the boss, you fool,” exclaimed Roake.
Both the men stopped suddenly, uttering suppressed imprecations.
“What is the trouble?” demanded Haywood.
“Trouble enough,” replied Roake. “The bird has flown.”
“What! you don’t mean Lester?”
“Yes; that’s just who I mean. He has given us the slip.”
“How in Satan’s name did that happen?”
“Why, we had to get in the goods, and there was no place to keep him except—you know where. We gave him some wine that was fixed, and he went to sleep. But the effect passed off sooner than we expected, and while we were all up in the loft he stepped out.”
“Curse the luck! How long was it before you discovered that he was gone?”
“I don’t know. I told Ratter to go down and shut the door, but he waited some little time, being hard at work. When he did go down he yelled up the news to us, and Snags and I rushed out, leaving the others up there. But here we are talking, when we ought to be after him. I wonder which way he went.”