ondition its only incentive to action. He endeavoured to rise, rolling
partially over in the effort which failed, but the movement, slight as it
was, left one hand dangling over an excavation at his right. His fingers
explored the edge of this opening cautiously, revealing a cellar-way,
leading down into the basement. The opening was black, silent,
mysterious, yet it was a hiding place. If he could manage to roll down
those steps into those depths below, he might hide there unseen, until he
regained strength, until the first effort at pursuit had been abandoned.
Then there might be a chance for escape.

West grasped the idea clearly enough. Those fellows would be there
swiftly. If they found him gone they would have no doubt but what he
landed safely, and had made a get-away. They would search, of course,
perhaps out into the alley, hoping he might have been injured, but it was
hardly probable they would think to explore the cellar. Even if they did,
he could surely creep into some dark corner where he might escape
observation. Anyway, crippled as he was, this offered the one and only
chance. He could not argue and debate; he must act.

He rolled over, and lowered himself down into the opening, locating the
half-dozen broken and rotted steps with his feet. He made no attempt to
stand, but simply slid down, finding a partially closed door at the
bottom, the passage-way blocked by a litter, the exact nature of which
could not be determined in the darkness. With some difficulty, and more
than ever conscious of his weakness, and the pain of bruises, he managed
to crawl over this pile of debris, and crouch down finally in the intense
blackness within. He felt like a trapped rat, still gasping for breath,
his body quivering from exertion.

Yet his retreat had been none too rapid. The silence above was broken by
the creak of an opening door, the sound of excited voices, and a sudden
gleam of light, finding entrance through the open cellar-way. West
startled, crept back into a corner, every nerve alert at approaching
peril. He recognized Hobart's voice, as the fellow plunged down the steps
from the first floor out into the yard.

"To hell, of course he's here!" he stormed. "My God, man, he dived out
head first; I saw him. He'll be dead as a door nail now. Come on with
that lantern, Turner. Where in thunder is the ladder--does any one know?"

"You think he lies on the roof?"

"Why not? That's where he must have struck, ain'