n to edge himself
along. Martin and the boatswain followed. Martin looked up. The
window they had just climbed through was a mere black blot, the window
that was their objective was a mere outline overhead and a few feet to
one side. No betraying light hazarded them, there on the shed. The
warehouse behind them, and the building against which they crouched,
combined to drape them in black shadow. Unless they made a noise,
Martin divined there was not much chance of their being discovered.

Little Billy paused beneath the other window, and Martin and the
boatswain pressed close to his side.

"Now, bosun, lend me your shoulders," said Little Billy. "If this
shutter is fastened the same way the other one was, we won't have much
trouble. Hand me the bar."

The boatswain produced a short steel bar from some place about his
person and handed it to the hunchback. Then he braced his back against
the building, directly below the desired window, and picking up Little
Billy, hoisted the little fellow to his own broad shoulders. The
hunchback perched there a moment and delivered instructions to Martin.

"You stand lookout," he instructed. "Watch the street. Listen for
footsteps."

Martin obediently crept to the edge of the shed's roof that overlooked
the street and posted himself there as watchman. The alley was on his
left hand, but it was so dark there he could not see the ground. The
street, just before him, was not so impervious to peering eyes.

The cobblestones and the sidewalk pavement gleamed dully. By
stretching his neck, he could see the corner where the street lamp
spluttered before the saloon entrance, and beyond the corner, the wide
vista of the Embarcadero and a section of dark wharf. But he saw
nothing threatening in the scene. Nothing moved--the street was empty
of life. The only sounds were the hooting of steamboat whistles on the
bay and the light rattle of Little Billy's bar against the shutter.

Then, abruptly, came from around the corner, in front of the saloon,
the muffled throb of an automobile engine. It sank to a purr, and
stopped. Martin stiffened tensely and gripped the revolver in his
hand. Behind him, he heard the boatswain mutter:

"'Ear that, Billy? Swiggle me, 'e's back--'urry!"

The scraping sound of the steel bar upon the shutter increased in
volume. Martin heard a mumble of voices, and a stamping of feet on the
pavement. Then a door closed and the sounds ceased.