Siwash Mike’s coming fitted into the situation as neatly as if it had all been thought out. Clement thought it might have been thought out, ordained, by Providence.
And not only had good fortune sent along Siwash Mike to-day, but good fortune had also stepped in to enable him to make the most of Siwash Mike. To be present when that rogue reported to his master was not going to be child’s play, but it was going to be simpler than he had first thought. The way down the cliffside to the gluemaker’s of Algonquin was a certain way in, but it would be difficult and dangerous in the dark. Now, thanks to his abounding good luck, he had overheard that all he had to do was to push against the little door in the big cart gate of the gluemaker’s, and it would be open. Good fortune had favored him with an easy entrance. How could he reject this offer of good fortune? He could not.
And Mr. Neuburg, as he sat in his own room and smoked, thought much the same thoughts. How could this Englishman reject this offer which good fortune apparently had offered him? No, the fellow could not.... He would go to the gluemaker’s of the Sault Algonquin at 10:30 to-night.
And Clement Seadon went.
He put on old clothes. He carried an automatic pistol in his pocket. He also wore rubber-soled brown shoes. His adventure was not going to be easy and without danger, and he was prepared for all eventualities. But, on the whole, his great good luck had given him an exhilarating sense of confidence, and as he passed through the dark streets of the lower town of Quebec, and into the cañon of lowering and silent blackness that night made of the Sault Algonquin, he felt sure of his success.
There was no one about. He reached the gluemaker’s unobserved. The face of the house was black, enigmatic. There was no sign of life or light. He pressed upon the little door in the big cart gate. Yes, it was yielding ... it was open. With a sharp movement he opened it wide enough to let his body through, slipped inside.
Under the arch of the house, the cartway was a cave of almost impenetrable blackness. Moving very slowly and very easily, Clement stole to the left. The door of the house must be there. He felt along the house wall. There was no window ... for yards there was nothing. Then his hand dropped into the recess of the door, slid across the woodwork, found the handle.... Softly, gently he turned. The door answered under pressure—it opened. Clement was inside a pitch black room.
There was just a faint sound ... something small fell ... something as small as a pencil.... Only in that terrific silence would he have heard so small a sound. Then complete silence ... silence bearing down like a shroud.... Slowly, cautiously Clement closed the door behind him ... took one, then another, then another step into the room.... Something tautened and snapped across his instep, a thread.... Things happened....
A hoarse whisper ... a sudden rush of movement ... a torch clicked, wavered, struck into his eyes with its brilliant and dazzling light ... there was a sweep of movement.... Men bore down on him in a terrific rush....