The Son of his Father

by Ridgwell Cullum

The horses moved across towards the vague outline of a large hayrack which stood mounted in the running gear of a dismantled wagon, and the figures leading them began at once to hook them up in place. While this was happening two other figures were loading the rack with hay from the corral near by, in which stood a half-cut haystack. Their work seemed to be more intricate than the usual process of loading a hayrack. There seemed to be a sort of wide and long cage in the bottom of the rack, and the hay needed careful placing to leave the interior of this free, while yet surrounding it completely and rendering it absolutely obscured.

In less than half an hour the work was completed, and the four men gathered together and conversed in low voices.

After this a fresh movement took place. The group broke up, and each moved off as though to carry out affairs already agreed upon. One man mounted the rack and took up his position for driving the team. Another stood near the rear of the wagon and remained waiting, whilst the other two moved towards the hotel.

These latter parted as they neared the building. One of them entered it through the back door, and as he came within the radiance of the solitary oil-lamp it became apparent that his face was completely masked. He moved stealthily forward, listening for any unwelcome sound, mounted the staircase, and was immediately swallowed up by the darkness of the corridor above.

Meanwhile his companion had taken another route. He had moved along the building to the left of the back door. His objective was the iron fire-escape which went up to the gallery outside the upper windows.

He found it almost at the end of the building, and began the ascent. In a few moments he was at the top, and, moving along the narrow iron gallery, he counted the windows as he passed them. At the fifth window he paused and examined it. The blind inside was withdrawn, and he ran over in his mind the various details which had been given him. He knew that the latch inside had been carefully removed.

He tried the window cautiously. It moved easily to his pressure, and a smile stole over his masked features when he remembered that ample grease had been placed in its slipway. It was good to think that these contingencies had been so carefully provided for.

The window was sufficiently open. The process had been entirely soundless, but he bent down and listened intently. Far away, somewhere inside, he could hear the sound of deep breathing. He made his next move quickly and stealthily. One leg was raised and thrust through the opening, and, bending his great body nearly double, he made his way into the room beyond.

Pausing for a few moments to assure himself that the sleeper in the adjoining room had not been disturbed, he next made his way towards the door, aided by the light of a silent sulphur match. He quickly withdrew the bolt, and was immediately joined by the man who had entered the hotel through the back door.

Now he turned his attention to the room itself. Yes, everything was as he had been told. It was a largish room, and a small archway, hung with heavy curtains, divided it from another. The portion he had entered was furnished as a parlor, and beyond the curtains was the bedroom. Signing to his companion to remain where he was, he moved swiftly and silently to the heavy drawn curtains. For a second he listened to the breathing beyond; then he parted them and vanished within.