"That's his shake-down, ain't it?" asked the Imp, "where the lights
are."

"That's it," admitted sentry. "You ain't an Anarchist? Tell me if
you are."

"I'll let you know if I feel it coming on," the Imp assured him.

Had the sentry been a man of swift and penetrating observation--
which he wasn't--he might have asked the question in more serious a
tone. For he would have remarked that the Imp's black eyes were
resting lovingly upon a rain-water-pipe, giving to a skilful
climber easy access to the terrace underneath the Prince's windows.

"I would like to see him," said the Imp.

"Friend o' yours?" asked the sentry.

"Well, not exactly," admitted the Imp. "But there, you know,
everybody's talking about him down our street."

"Well, yer'll 'ave to be quick about it," said the sentry. 'E's
off to-night."

Tommy's face fell. "I thought it wasn't till Friday morning."

"Ah!" said the sentry, "that's what the papers say, is it?" The
sentry's voice took unconsciously the accent of those from whom no
secret is hid. "I'll tell yer what yer can do," continued the