“Yes; I outwitted them up stairs, and jumped from a window.  But that is enough talk now; we’ll go over the whole affair when we are safely away from this place.  How is it? do you think you can navigate?”

Sexton responded by getting slowly to his feet.  He trembled, and was so uncertain, as he attempted to grope forward, that West grasped him firmly, helping him slowly toward the foot of the steps.  Even this effort, however, helped the man to recover somewhat the use of his numbed limbs, while his breathing became much easier.  The two crept up the stairs cautiously, and surveyed the cluttered up yard as best they might in the dim light of the distant street lamp.  It appeared entirely deserted, nor was there any evidence that the building above was occupied.  No doubt lights were burning within, but if so the shades must have been drawn closely, allowing no reflection to escape.  No better opportunity for evading notice could be hoped for, and West, alert now to every chance, made instant decision.

“They are all inside.  Creep along behind that pile of lumber to where you see the hole in the fence.  I’ll be just behind you.  That’s the way.”

The narrow alley was much lighter, yet still dark enough to conceal their movements, as they clung close to the deeper shadows.  Except for an old cart it was unoccupied, the surface covered with ashes, so packed as to leave no trace of wheels.  Ahead of them at the end of the block, glowed the only street lamp visible.  Sexton, by now largely recovered from his late experiences, broke into a run, with West following closely behind.  Both were eager to escape from the immediate neighbourhood unseen.  Suddenly Sexton stumbled, but arose almost instantly to his feet again, grasping something which gleamed like silver in his hand.

“Not hurt, are you?” asked West anxiously.

“No; what’s this I found?”

The other took it impatiently.

“What is it?  Why a small pocket knife, of course.  Come on, man, don’t stand mooning there.”  He slipped the article carelessly into his pocket.  “Let’s get out into the open while the road is clear.”

“Where are you going?” Sexton panted, endeavouring to keep beside him.  “Have you anything planned out?”

“Not very much; Milwaukee Avenue first.  There is sure to be an all-night restaurant somewhere in sight.  Telephone for a taxi, don’t dare to risk a street car, we both look too tough.”

“Suppose they will follow us?”

“Hardly; they will have no idea which way we went, or how long we’ll have been gone.  All Hobart will think about now will be getting out of sight himself.  Once we turn off this street, we’ll be safe enough.”

It was considerably past midnight when the two men finally reached the University Club; they had lunched at an all-night restaurant, washed and made themselves as presentable as possible, yet were hardly recognizable as they entered the Club lobby.  Neither possessed a hat; Sexton was in his shirt sleeves, while West’s coat clung to him in rags.  Without waiting to explain anything to the servant in charge, except to state briefly that Sexton would be his guest for the night, the Captain hurried into the waiting elevator, and accompanied by his companion, ascended to his apartment above.