The door was closed to us, however. Only someone like Warrington
who was known there could have got us in peacefully, until we had
become known in the place. Yet though there had been no tip, the
lookout on the other side of the door, with his keen nose, had
seemed to scent trouble.

He had retreated and, we knew, had shut the inside, heavy door--
perhaps even had had time already to give the alarm inside.

The sharp rap of a small axe which Garrick had brought sounded on
the flimsy outside door, in quick staccato. There was a noise and
scurry of feet inside and we could hear the locks and bolts being
drawn.

Banging, ripping, tearing, the thin outer door was easily forced.
Disregarding the melee I leaped through the wreckage with Garrick.
The "ice-box" door barred all further progress. How was Garrick to
surmount this last and most formidable barrier?

"A raid! A raid!" cried a passer-by.

Another instant, and the cry, taken up by others, brought a crowd
swarming around from Broadway, as if it were noon instead of
midnight.




CHAPTER X