“Those were all I saw.  No doubt Hobart’s wife is in the house somewhere, guarding Natalie Coolidge probably.”

“Six altogether, counting the women.”

“Yes, and you better count them, for they will fight like tigers.  The girl held me up at the point of a gun.”

“We’ve got to get the drop first, that’s all.  They’re yellow, the whole outfit is yellow.  Shootin’ in the back is their style.  Now, you know the lay inside the house; what is our best chance?”

West studied over the situation, his eyes staring into the darkness, and McAdams waited.

“Well, Mac,” he said finally.  “This is a new job for me, but I’d put a man out in front, and then take the others in through the back door.  We’d have to rush it, of course.  I know the front door is locked, and it couldn’t be broken down quickly.  I listened when those fellows went back, and I heard no click, as though they had locked the door behind them.  They don’t know anybody has been after them except me, and they believe I am done for.  They feel so safe out here, they are a bit careless.  I’ll wager something we can walk straight in on the outfit; how does that strike you?”

“As the only feasible plan.  Let’s crawl out of here.”

The arrangements were quickly perfected; a short, whispered conference in the dark; then one man crept silently away through the night toward the front of the house.  McAdams added a few more words of instruction to the others, and, with West slightly in advance, revolvers drawn and ready, the five stole forward in the direction of the rear porch.  The windows were either heavily curtained, or covered by outside shades, for no gleam of light was anywhere visible.  West mounted the back steps silently, with McAdams close at his heels.  A second later the entire bunch of officers were grouped before the door, poised breathless, listening for any sound from within.  Nothing broke the impressive silence, and McAdam’s hand closed over the knob, which he turned slowly.  The door opened quietly into a darkened interior.  For an instant he bent forward, peering through the narrow crack, endeavouring to learn what lay hidden beyond, the others quivering behind him.  There was scarcely the sound of a breath audible.  The detective hesitated; such luck, such carelessness on the part of criminals seemed almost uncanny; he half suspected some trap.  Then he became convinced that this was only the result of recklessness—­the fellows felt so safe in this hidden hole in the woods as to neglect all precaution.  He stepped cautiously inside, leaving the door ajar for the others to follow.  Then they paused—­straight ahead a double swinging door divided the kitchen in which they were from another room beyond.  Through the centre crack shone a single bar of light, barely visible, and forth through that same orifice came the sound of a voice speaking.  McAdams flung up his hand in signal, and then crept silently forward.