before. With one man, or even two, I stood some show of escape, but against such an array as was now at my heels, it seemed like a vain thought that I could prolong the chase, and I was quick to comprehend that my only show of getting out of the dilemma was by process of some clever ruse. While thus engaged in a sort of lightning-like calculation, I heard some one exclaim to his fellows:
"I followed him closely from the corner, boys, and when I reached the alley, he had disappeared completely. He never, in my opinion, passed this door," and with that he approached the entrance with the remark, "Some of you stand outside here and guard the door, while the rest of us will explore the basement."
At this I turned my attention to the gaslight, which I reached without attraction, and after turning it down until it was almost extinguished, giving barely sufficient glimmer to permit my return, I started for the stairway to which reference was made when I first entered the basement, and had hardly reached it when the basement door was pushed cautiously aside and two men entered, passing within three feet of where I was concealed behind a post.
Perceiving that they were making for the gas jet, I glided noiselessly up the stairway, and opening its door, stepped out cautiously onto a porch a few feet above the basement, belonging to the lower flat of the building. Fortunately for me, the porch was surrounded with some lattice work, which enabled me to observe the movements of those in the alleyway below without exposing myself to view in any manner.
Trying the kitchen door of this flat, I discovered that it was locked and receiving no response from the inside, proceeded to ascend the stairs to the flat above. In this effort, however, I was not so successful in concealing my presence, as I had the misfortune to make a slight noise, which brought from the man underneath the porch, who was guarding the basement door, the inquiry:
"Who goes there?"
"Fisher!" was my assuring answer.
"What Fisher?" he asked.
"Why, it's Jack," I responded, as I ascended the stairway two steps at a time to the flat above. It was my turn to play interrogator now, so I asked:
"Who are you, and what are you doing down there?"
The reply, if any, was lost to my ears, as I had now reached the porch of the second flat and had more important business on hand.
Repeating the performance of trying the kitchen door, and again receiving no response to my knock, I continued to the last flat above, fully determined to break in the door if I met with no better success, as it was impossible for me to turn back with any degree of safety.
As I neared the head of the stairs, my heart bounded with joy as I noticed a stream of light pouring through the window, and Vv'hile waiting an answer to my summons for admission, its rays were to me as a beacon to some storm-tossed mariner.
In response to my loud knock, a female voice inside tin idly inquired:
"Who is there?"
"It's me," I answered.
"Who?"
"Just me—open the door!" and with that I could hear the key grating in the lock and the door swung open. I was on the inside in a second, and closing the door behind me, and bolting and locking it securely, I took a survey of the surroundings.
Seated at a table in his shirt sleeves, reading the evening paper, was a middle-aged man, while his good wife had evidently been preparing their supper. Both looked pictures of despair, evidently mistaking me for a burglar. As soon as he could recover his presence of mind, the man in faltering tones inquired my business.
"No business," I replied; "just show me the front door that I may get out on the street!" Page 247
