“Follow us until we get into the house,” Harley said to Inspector Wessex, “and wait out of sight. If you hear me blow this whistle, bring up the men you have posted—as quick as you like! But make it your particular business to see that no one gets out!”
Into a pitch-dark yard we turned, and I felt a shudder of apprehension upon observing that it was the entrance to a wharf. Dully gleaming in the moonlight, the Thames, that grave of many a ghastly secret, flowed beneath us. Emerging from the shadow of the archway, we paused before a door in the wall on our left.
At that moment something gleamed through the air, whizzed past my ear, and fell with a metallic jingle on the stones!
Instinctively we both looked up.
At an unlighted window on the first floor I caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark face.
“You were right!” I said. “Ali of Cairo has forestalled us!”
Harley stooped and picked up a knife with a broad and very curious blade. He slipped it into his pocket, nonchalantly.
“All evidence!” he said. “Keep in the shadow and bend down. I am going to stand on your shoulders and get into that window!”
Wondering at his daring, I nevertheless obeyed; and Harley succeeded, although not without difficulty, in achieving his purpose. A moment after he had disappeared in the blackness of the room above.
“Stand clear, Knox!” I heard.