"Harry, I'm going to get on my clothes and slip over in that direction.
Do you want to go with me?"

"Yes; but what--"

"I can tell you better when we're on the way. Come on; dress! We can
easily leave the house without being detected."

Though Harry had already been through hosts of adventures, he
felt creepy as he dressed with speed and stealth, bent on slipping
unobserved out of their employer's house. But he was used to
following his chum's lead.

When both were ready, which was very soon, Tom softly opened the
door of their parlor, thrusting one foot out into the broad corridor.
As he did so he kicked against a man lying prostrate on the floor.
It was Nicolas, the Mexican attendant, sleeping across their
threshold that he might be on hand when wanted.

The man stirred, muttered something almost inaudible, then gradually
began to breathe more deeply. Tom, after waiting, took a step
over the body of Nicolas. Harry closed the door behind them,
then followed. Soon after they stood out on the lawn.

"I'm glad Nicolas went to sleep again," muttered Tom, in a low
voice. "The fellow would have insisted on following us, and I
wouldn't want him with us to-night, to tell Don Luis everything."

"But what on earth--"