u pass."

"I'll stay and help you, if you'll have me," promptly replied Martin.
"I am not afraid to take a chance. And that girl--those yellow----"

"I knew you would stick!" interrupted the hunchback. His hand grasped
Martin's in a congratulatory grip. "I knew I had not misjudged
you--you are a white man. We must get her away, and we dare not call
the police into this affair. But there is nothing crooked on our side
of the fence. Here, take this--you may need it!"

Little Billy thrust something into Martin's hand, and Martin thrilled
at the feel of it. It was a pistol, a compact, automatic messenger of
death. But once or twice before had Martin ever handled such a weapon,
and he had never shot one at a living mark. Nevertheless, it fitted
snugly and naturally into his palm. He even contemplated, with a
certain amount of pleasure, its instant use upon the divekeeper's gross
person. There was a subtle and lasting change of character in that
brief moment--Martin Blake, law clerk, became of the dead past, and
Martin Blake, adventurer, stepped into the law clerk's boots.

"It is too risky to make a rush through this door," Little Billy was
saying. "They would hear us and be on guard. We will try the next
window."

He darted to the window, and Martin followed. The purposeful hunchback
was a stimulating surprise, a far cry from the eloquent Little Billy of
the fire hydrant to the energetic Little Billy of the moment! The man
of words become the man of action.

Little Billy leaned out of the window, and whispered.

"Aye, aye," Martin heard the hoarse whisper in reply.

"Stand by, we are coming out--both of us," admonished Little Billy.

He vaulted over the sill, clung a moment, and dropped. Martin saw the
boatswain catch the little man in midair and lower him gently to his
feet.

"Come on," the hunchback then called softly.

Martin divested himself of his overcoat. The cause, he thought, was
worth the sacrifice, and the garment was cumbersome. Then he clambered
over the sill and lowered himself.

He was preparing to drop, when a resistless clutch fastened upon his
hips. He was handed through the air as if he were a feather, and set
gently upon his feet at Little Billy's side. The boatswain's gruff
whisper was in his ear--

"Swiggle me, ladibuck, I 'ad no thought to run afoul of you again."

"Come on--next window," commanded Little Billy.

He shrank against the side of the building and bega