"Now," said Jim, "we're the better for wanting her, though she's a wonderful woman when you take her right. The fact is, she's just as crazy as the others about that house yonder, and is half afeared of having any thing to do with us. But she's lent me the steps, and that's all I care a crack about."
It was raining cats and dogs now, and bitter cold, but we were both excited by what we'd come to do, and didn't feel it more than the touch of a feather. For my part, I'd thought little of the danger up to that time, but when I stood out in that dark yard and looked up to the black shape of a windowless and prison-like house, I must say that I got a shiver through me.
"Jim," said I, "two's not many for a job like this. Did you bring your pistol?"
"I did so," he whispered. "You don't find me going far without it in Paris. Will you go first, or shall I?"
"You go," said I, "since you know the way. I'm on your heels—though what you're to see through that wall I'd like to learn."
"There's windows on the lower story," cried he; "but keep your mouth shut, and tread light."
Saying this, he went up the steps, and I followed him. I have made it plain, I think, that the cabaret or beer-shop, or whatever you like to call it, stood back to back with the house we'd come to enquire about. There was only a yard and a high wall between them; but at the end of this yard, and
