“You stay here till I fetch Mr. Carey and the servants,” commanded the watchman. “Don’t try to get out, and,” he added menacingly, “don’t make no noise.” With his revolver he pointed at the two windows. They were heavily barred. “Those bars keep Mr. Carey in,” he said, “and I guess they can keep you in, too. The other watchman,” he added, “will be just outside this door.” But still he hesitated, glowering with suspicion; unwilling to trust them alone. His face lit with an ugly smile.
“Mr. Carey’s very bad to-night,” he said; “he won’t keep his bed and he’s wandering about the house. If he found you by yourselves, he might——”
The young man, who had been staring at the fire, swung sharply on his heel.
“Get-to-hell-out-of-here!” he said.
The watchman stepped into the hall and was cautiously closing the door when a man sprang lightly up the front steps. Through the inch crack left by the open door the trespassers heard the new-comer’s eager greeting.
“I can’t get him right!” he panted. “He’s snoring like a hog.”
The watchman exclaimed savagely:
“He’s fooling you.” He gasped. “I didn’t mor’ nor slap him. Did you throw water on him?”
“I drowned him!” returned the other. “He never winked. I tell you we gotta walk, and damn quick!”
“Walk!” The watchman cursed him foully. “How far could we walk? I’ll bring him to,” he swore. “He’s scared of us, and he’s shamming.” He gave a sudden start of alarm. “That’s it, he’s shamming. You fool! You shouldn’t have left him.”