doors there as though he was listenin' for something inside. Does that wise you up to anything?"
"Yes!" she breathed tensely. "That was the watchman. He's one of them. The man we want is in that shed beyond a doubt. Hurry, Marty—hurry!"
They ran together now, and reached the double side-door. It was evidently for freight purposes only, and probably barred on the inside, for they found there was no way of opening it from without.
"There must be an entrance," she said feverishly—and led the way toward the front of the building in the direction away from the river. "Yes, here it is!" she exclaimed, as they rounded the end of the shed.
She tried the door. It was locked. She felt in her pocket for her skeleton keys, for she had not been unprepared for just such an emergency, but the Sparrow brushed her aside.
"Leave it to me!" he said quickly. "I'll pick that lock like one o'clock! It won't take me more'n a minute."
Rhoda Gray did not stand and watch him. Minutes were priceless things, and she could put the minute he asked for to better advantage than by idling it away. With an added injunction to hurry and that she would be back in an instant, she was already racing around the opposite side of the shed. If they were pressed, cornered, by the arrival of Danglar, it might well mean the difference between life and death to all of them if she had an intimate knowledge of the surroundings.
She was running at top speed. Halfway down the length of the shed she tripped and fell over some object. She pushed it aside as she rose. It was an old iron casting, more bulky in shape than in weight, though she found it none too light to lift comfortably. She ran on. A wharf projected out, she found, from
