Alan crept up to the Turber place. He heard the clock chime ten. An Italian settlement lay in a fringe along the east side of the hospital grounds. The main gateway was there. Alan skirted to the west. A cemetery lay on the west slope of the hill, with a narrow road like a trail bordering the high iron fence. It was all dark along here; but Alan remembered that the tennis courts were in this far corner. According to Charlie there should be a small gate somewhere here in the fence.
Would Charlie keep his word? Alan, in talking to me, had seemed confident. But he was hardly that. Everything that Charlie had said might be the wanderings of an unhinged mind; the boy might have forgotten it all by now.
Abruptly Alan came to a small iron door in the fence. A dark figure stood behind it.
"Charlie?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Let me in."
The door swung inward. Alan slipped through; closed it carefully.