Then came the sound of a striking
match, and at the side edge of the window there was a faint streak of
light.
"That's the place," Hewitt whispered. "Come, we'll make a push for it. You
stand against the wall at one side of the door and I'll stand at the
other, and we'll have him as he comes out. Quietly, now, and I'll startle
them."
He took a stone from among the rubbish littering the garden and flung it
crashing through the window. There was a loud exclamation from within, the
blind fell, and somebody rushed to the back door and flung it open.
Instantly Kentish let fly a heavy right-hander, and the man went over like
a skittle. In a moment Hewitt was upon him and the gag in his mouth.
"Hold him," Hewitt whispered, hurriedly. "I'll see if there are others."
He peered down through the low window. Within Sammy Crockett, his bare
legs dangling from beneath his long overcoat, sat on a packing-box,
leaning with his head on his hand and his back toward the window. A
guttering candle stood on the mantel-piece, and the newspaper which had
been stretched across the window lay in scattered sheets on the floor.
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