It would hardly
occasion any comment, even if he were noticed, if he entered one of the
_tenements_, where, with probably a dozen families living in as many
rooms, one could come and go at all hours without question or hindrance.
He moved slowly along, and, out of the radius of the street lamp now and
away from the children, paused again, this time before the last tenement
in the row that the front of the courtyard in the rear. For the moment
there were no pedestrians in the immediate neighbourhood, and Jimmie
Dale, stepping through the tenement doorway, gained the narrow,
unlighted hall within. He stopped here, hugged close against the wall,
to listen, and, hearing or seeing nothing to disturb him, moved forward
again, silently, without a sound, along the hall. There must be, he
knew, a rear exit to the courtyard behind. Yes--here it was! He had
halted again, this time before a door. He tried it, found it unlocked,
opened it, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him.
It was dark out here in the courtyard, and objects were only faintly
discernible; but there were few localities in that neighbourhood with
which Jimmie Dale, either as Smarlinghue, or in the old days as Larry
the Bat, was not intimately acquainted.
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