... Then the informer said something in a low voice that the old
man could not hear; and the other, handing him the chisel and hammer,
went out of the room, beckoning to one of the two others that stood
waiting at the door.
"Well?" sneered the old man. "Have you caught your bird?
"Not yet, sir."
He could hear the steps of the others in the next room; and then
silence.
"What are they doing there?" he asked suddenly.
"Nothing, sir.... I just bade a man wait on that side."
The man was once more inserting the chisel in the top of the
wainscoting; then he presently began to drive it down with the hammer as
if to detach it from the wall.
Suddenly he stopped; and at the same instant the old man heard some
faint, muffled noise, as of footsteps moving either in the wall or
beyond it.
"What is that?"
The man said nothing; he appeared to be listening.
"What is that?" demanded the other again, with a strange uneasiness at
his heart. Was it possible, after all! Then the man dropped his chisel
and hammer and darted out and vanished. A sudden noise of voices and
tramplings broke out somewhere out of sight.
"God's blood!" roared the old man in anger and dismay. "I believe they
have the poor devil!"
* * * * *
He ran out, two steps down the passage and in again at the door of the
next room. It was a bedroom, with two beds side by side: a great press
with open doors stood between the hearth and the window; and, in the
midst of the floor, five men struggled and swayed together.
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