The night patrol came clattering down the
street. It passed quickly, and soon all was still again. Johann
stepped out and peered up and down. The street was deserted. All
the hotel windows were in gloom, save a feeble light which
beamed from the office windows.
Would it be robbery? He had not yet stooped to that. But he
could hear the ivory ball clatter as it fell into the lucky
numbers. He had a premonition that he would win if he stuck to a
single combination. He would redeem the gun, replace it, and no
one would be any the wiser. If his numbers failed him. . . . .
No matter. He determined to cross the Rubicon. He traversed the
street and disappeared into the cavernous alley, shortly to loom
up in the deserted courtyard of the hotel. He counted the
windows on the first floor and stopped at the fourth. That was
the window he must enter. Noiselessly he crept along the walls,
stopping now and then to listen. There was no sound except the
monotonous dripping of the rain, which was growing thinner and
colder.
Presently he came across the ladder he was seeking. He raised it
to the required height, and once more placed his hand to his ear.
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