NIGHT THE SIXTH.
209
"John," I heard Slade say, in a low, confidential voice, to one of them, "your old man was here just now."
"No!" The young man looked startled—almost confounded.
"It's a fact. So you'd better keep shady."
"What did he want?"
"I don't know."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He just came in, looked around, and then went out."
"His face was as dark as a thunder-cloud," remarked Matthew.
"Is No. 4 vacant?" inquired one of the young men.
"Yes."
"Send us up a bottle of wine and some cigars. And when Bill Harding and Harry Lee come in, tell them where they can find us."
"All right," said Matthew. "And now, take a friend's advice, and make yourselves scarce."
