For about an hour the man worked without a word. Then he braced
himself against the wall and wrenched out one of the bars; then
another wrench, and another bar gave way; after which he packed up his
kit and slipped it into a pocket under his coat. "Now," he said, "come
on."
He slipped through the opening and dropped to the ground, and Samuel
followed suit. "This way," he whispered, and they darted down an alley
and came out upon a dark street. For perhaps a mile they walked on in
silence, then Charlie turned into a doorway and opened the door with a
latch key, and they went up two flights of stairs and into a rear
room. He lit the gas, and took off his coat and flung it on the bed.
"Now, make yourself at home," he said.
"Is this your room?" asked Samuel.
"Yes," was the reply. "The bulls haven't found it, either!"
"But I thought we were to go out of town!" exclaimed the other.
"Humph!" laughed Charlie. "Young fellow, you're easy!"
"Do you mean you're not going?" cried Samuel.
"What! When I've got a free license to work the town?"
Samuel stared at him, amazed. "You mean they wouldn't arrest you?"
"Not for anything short of murder, I think."
"But--but what could you do?"
"Just suppose I was to tip off some newspaper with that story? Not
here in Lockmanville--but the New York Howler, we'll say?"
"I see!" gasped Samuel.
Charlie had tilted back in his chair and was proceeding to fill his
pipe.
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