The street was apparently
deserted, and we did not stop to look for any "operatives," but left
our machine and stole quietly upstairs and into the room.
LV
Comrade Abell sat at the table, with his head bowed in his arms,
sound asleep. Lynch, the ex-soldier, and Tom Moneta, the Mexican,
were lying on the floor snoring. And on a chair near the doorway,
watching the scene, sat Hamby, wide awake. We knew he was awake,
because he leaped to his feet the instant we entered the door. "Oh,
it's you!" he said, recognizing me; I noted the alarm in his voice.
I beckoned to him, softly. "Come here a moment;" and he came out
into the ante-room. At the same time Old Joe stepped across the big
room, and stooped down and waked up Lynch. We had agreed that Joe
was to give Lynch a whispered explanation of the situation, while I
kept Hamby busy.
"Where is Mr. Carpenter?" I asked.
"He's in the private office, praying."
"Well," said I, "there's a sick woman who needs help very badly. I
wonder if we'd better disturb him.
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