"Been here long?" he whispered.

Murren was gloomy and did not answer. The religious editor removed his
corn-cob and said briefly; "About ten minutes, sir." Thompson was
gazing with interest at the dark building across the way.

"You've seen nobody come out?"

"Nobody. On the contrary, about half a dozen have gone up that
stairway."

"Is that the place, sir?" asked Thompson with the lamb-like innocence
of the criminal reporter.

"Yes, upstairs there."

"What did I tell you?" said the religious editor. "Thompson insisted it
was next door."

"Come along," said McCrasky, "the police are moving at last."

A big bell in the neighborhood solemnly struck two slow strokes, and
all over the city the hour sounded in various degrees of tone and
speed. A whistle rang out and was distantly answered. The police moved
quickly and quietly up the stairway.

"Have you tickets, gentlemen," asked the man at the door politely;
"this is a private assembly."