The shed itself, windowless at least in
front, was as silent, as deserted, and as black as all around it.
Jimmie Dale's hand stole into his pocket, produced a black silk mask,
adjusted the mask over his face--and then the deft, slim fingers were at
work with a little steel instrument on the door lock. A moment more, and
the door swung silently inward, slowly, inch by inch. He listened
intently. There was no sound. He stepped inside, and silently closed
and locked the door behind If Hunchback Joe had not returned yet, it was
necessary that Hunchback Joe should find the door as he had left
it--locked! Again Jimmie Dale listened--and then the ray of his
flashlight circled the place. A miscellany of ship's junk was piled
without any attempt at order all over the place; a board partition with
two small windows, one on each side of the door, ran from side to side
of the shed about a third of the way up its length; and in the sides of
the shed itself were also two small, narrow windows--too small and too
narrow, Jimmie Dale noted grimly, for the passage of a man's body.
He moved forward cautiously, though he was almost certain that he was
ahead of Hunchback Joe.
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