One of the others heard me, however, and just as I reached the head of the stairs he came out to listen.
"I’m sure I heard something. They must have come. Should we go down? I am afraid of Gassen’s rashness."
"Oh, leave him to himself." This was from the man whom Gassen had called Schmidt and who had spoken so little; and at that his companion returned to the room.
I crept on down the stairs, pausing now and then in the half hope that Gassen would return, when I should have a double advantage in my attack--surprise and a greater height from which to strike.
But I reached the door leading to the water front before I saw him.
He was standing on the edge of the wharf, his figure silhouetted sharply against the sheen of the gliding river, shading his eyes as he looked anxiously up stream for some sign of those he was awaiting so impatiently.
I was on the point of making my rush for him, when he turned and looked straight in my direction. I thought he saw me and held my breath in expectation of his attack. But I had presence of mind enough to remain as still as a stone figure.
Then he turned away; and I concluded that I had been too deep in the shadow of the doorway for his eyes to pierce the darkness.
He moved off toward the end of the wharf, and then I saw him start and stare down intently at the river below.
He had discovered the boat which I had fastened there, and he stooped down to examine it closely. Intent upon this he did not hear my steps as I crossed toward him, and when he rose I was close to him and had him covered with my revolver.
His surprise was so complete that he all but staggered backwards into the river. "The Englishman!" he exclaimed with a foul oath, as his hand went to his pocket.
"You won’t move," I said in a low tense tone.
He recovered his coolness on the instant. "You daren’t fire here," said he.
For a moment he hesitated whether to try the risk of a fight for it; but with a shrug of the shoulders he obeyed.
"Throw those oars out here," I rapped out sternly.
I knew he had a revolver on him and watched him like a lynx. "Well, it’s a fine night for the river," he said carelessly as he picked up one of the oars and tossed it on the wharf. I went a little nearer to the edge to watch him more closely as he picked up the other; not for a second suspecting his intention.