"Throw him into the street."
"That won't do," said the man who had entered the room at the last moment. "You fellows don't know how to manage these things."
"What shall we do?"
"Let him sleep. He will sleep until morning—sleep like a top—and then the first thing he will call for will be a drink; give him one, then take him to some other house, fill him up, and leave him one by one. He will forget afterward where he lost his watch and money. At least you fellows can all swear he had his watch and money when you left him. Throw him into the street, and he will be found, dragged in, and in the morning will give the whole business away. That is the way you lads always make a mistake. You don't go slow enough."
The men agreed to Alling's plan, and then turning the dude over on the floor, fixed his coat under his head for a pillow and left him, locking him in the room, and there the poor dude lay. One of the men returned in about half an hour, looked the sleeper over and left. Downstairs he told his pals:
"He will never wake. I reckon the man is full to the ears. He will sleep until eleven o'clock to-morrow."
After the man had glanced into the room the dude most strangely awoke. He drew from his pocket a tiny mask lantern, and he pulled a tiny watch from his pocket, glanced at the time and muttered:
"I've got a long wait, but it's all right. I'll have my man."
The hours passed. The dude lay upon the floor and actually slept a natural sleep, but after some hours he awoke, glanced at his watch and muttered:
"Now it is time to operate."