He strolled to the corner and glanced up and down theintersecting street， but saw nothing save the oases of lightshed by the street lamps at the successive crossings. Thenhe strolled back the way he had come. He was a shadowof a man， sliding noiselessly and without undue movementthrough the semi-darkness. Also he was very alert， like awild animal in the jungle， keenly perceptive and receptive.
The movement of another in the darkness about himwould need to have been more shadowy than he to haveescaped him.
In addition to the running advertisement of the stateof affairs carried to him by his senses， he had a subtlerperception， a FEEL， of the atmosphere around him. Heknew that the house in front of which he paused fora moment， contained children. Yet by no willed effortof perception did he have this knowledge. For thatmatter， he was not even aware that he knew， so occultwas the impression. Yet， did a moment arise in whichaction， in relation to that house， were imperative， hewould have acted on the assumption that it containedchildren. He was not aware of all that he knew about theneighbourhood.
In the same way， he knew not how， he knew that nodanger threatened in the footfalls that came up the crossstreet. Before he saw the walker， he knew him for a belatedpedestrian hurrying home. The walker came into view atthe crossing and disappeared on up the street. The manthat watched， noted a light that flared up in the windowof a house on the corner， and as it died down he knew itfor an expiring match. This was conscious identificationof familiar phenomena， and through his mind flitted thethought， “Wanted to know what time.” In another houseone room was lighted. The light burned dimly and steadily，and he had the feel that it was a sick-room.
He was especially interested in a house across the streetin the middle of the block. To this house he paid mostattention. No matter what way he looked， nor what wayhe walked， his looks and his steps always returned to it.
Except for an open window above the porch， there wasnothing unusual about the house. Nothing came in norout. Nothing happened. There were no lighted windows，nor had lights appeared and disappeared in any of thewindows. Yet it was the central point of his consideration.
He rallied to it each time after a divination of the state ofthe neighbourhood.
Despite his feel of things， he was not confident. Hewas supremely conscious of the precariousness of hissituation. Though unperturbed by the footfalls of thechance pedestrian， he was as keyed up and sensitive andready to be startled as any timorous deer. He was aware ofthe possibility of other intelligences prowling about in thedarkness—intelligences similar to his own in movement，perception， and divination.
Far down the street he caught a glimpse of somethingthat moved. And he knew it was no late home-goer， butmenace and danger. He whistled twice to the house acrossthe street， then faded away shadow-like to the corner andaround the corner. Here he paused and looked about himcarefully. Reassured， he peered back around the cornerand studied the object that moved and that was comingnearer. He had divined aright. It was a policeman.
The man went down the cross street to the next corner，from the shelter of which he watched the corner he hadjust left. He saw the policeman pass by， going straight onup the street. He paralleled the policeman’s course， andfrom the next corner again watched him go by； then hereturned the way he had come. He whistled once to thehouse across the street， and after a time whistled onceagain. There was reassurance in the whistle， just as therehad been warning in the previous double whistle.
He saw a dark bulk outline itself on the roof of theporch and slowly descend a pillar. Then it came downthe steps， passed through the small iron gate， and wentdown the sidewalk， taking on the form of a man. He thatwatched kept on his own side of the street and movedon abreast to the corner， where he crossed over andjoined the other. He was quite small alongside the man heaccosted.
“How’d you make out， Matt？” he asked.
The other grunted indistinctly， and walked on in silencea few steps.
“I reckon I landed the goods，” he said.
Jim chuckled in the darkness， and waited for furtherinformation. The blocks passed by under their feet， and hegrew impatient.
“Well， how about them goods？” he asked. “What kind ofa haul did you make， anyway？”
“I was too busy to figger it out， but it’s fat. I can tell youthat much， Jim， it’s fat. I don’t dast to think how fat it is.
Wait till we get to the room.”
Jim looked at him keenly under the street lamp of thenext crossing， and saw that his face was a trifle grim andthat he carried his left arm peculiarly.
“What’s the matter with your arm？” he demanded.
“The little cuss bit me. Hope I don’t get hydrophoby.
Folks gets hydrophoby from manbite sometimes， don’tthey？”
“Gave you fight， eh？” Jim asked encouragingly.
The other grunted.
“You’re harder’n hell to get information from，” Jim burstout irritably. “Tell us about it. You ain’t goin’ to lose moneyjust a-tellin’ a guy.”
“I guess I choked him some，” came the answer. Then， byway of explanation， “He woke up on me.”
“You did it neat. I never heard a sound.”
“Jim，” the other said with seriousness， “it’s a hangin’
matter. I fixed ’m. I had to. He woke up on me. You an’
me’s got to do some layin’ low for a spell.”
Jim gave a low whistle of comprehension.
“Did you hear me whistle？” he asked suddenly.
“Sure. I was all done. I was just comin’ out.”
“It was a bull. But he wasn’t on a little bit. Went right byan’ kept a- paddin’ the hoof out a sight. Then I come backan’ gave you the whistle. What made you take so long afterthat？”
“I was waitin’ to make sure，” Matt explained. “I wasmighty glad when I heard you whistle again. It’s hard workwaitin’. I just sat there an’ thought an’ thought . . . oh，all kinds’ of things. It’s remarkable what a fellow’ll thinkabout. And then there was a darn cat that kept movin’
around the house all botherin’ me with its noises.”