"Oh, you just want a place to hide, eh?" Freddy said in a voice of superior scorn. "Why didn't you say so? Come along. Follow me. And mind those big feet of yours!"
Dave opened his mouth to ask questions, but Freddy had started moving along the narrow street. He traveled half a block, then darted down into an alley still untouched by the light of dawn. It was so dark that Dave plowed straight into Freddy's back before he realized that his friend had stopped.
"Clumsy ox, I must say you are!" Freddy grunted, and then softened it with a chuckle. "Here, give me your hand. The going's a bit tricky from here on."
"Hey!" Dave whispered. "Where in—"
"Shut up!" Freddy whispered. "Everything's all right. I know what I'm doing."
Dave checked all other questions and grasped Freddy's hand in the dark. After some ten minutes of climbing over things, and climbing down the other side, and turning this way and that, Dave suddenly found himself in the bare room of a house. Freddy let go of his hand, closed the door through which they had entered, and made a little apologetic gesture with his hands.
"Sorry, sir, there's no furniture," he said. "But I only took the place night before last, you see. And I haven't had time to send a van for my furniture. Now, if you'll just try the floor, sir."
"Cut the comedy!" Dave said gruffly, and squatted down on the dusty floor. "How come, anyway? What happened to you? And what have you been doing? And how the dickens did you find this place?"
Freddy raised his hand for silence.
"If you'll just close that big mouth of yours, I'll explain," he said. "And though I don't think anybody can hear us here, as the whole place is deserted, let's not shout, anyway."