"We'll stay where we are," said Terry calmly, "for thirty minutes--by guess. That'll give him time to go asleep. Then we'll go through one of those rooms and drop to the roof of the bank." The yegg cursed softly. "Are you trying to hang me?" he gasped. "Sit down," said Terry. "It's easier to wait that way." And they sat cross-legged on the floor of the hall. Once the springs of a bed creaked as someone turned in it heavily. Once there was a voice--one of the sleepers must have spoken without waking. Those two noises, and no more, and yet they remained for what seemed two hours to Terry, but what he knew could not be more than twenty minutes. "Now," he said to Denver, "we start." "Through one of them rooms and out the windows--without waking anybody up?" "You can do it. And I'll do it because I have to. Go on." He heard the teeth of Denver grit, as though the yegg were being driven on into this madcap venture merely by a pride which would not allow him to show less courage--even rash courage--than his companion. The door opened--Denver went inside and was soaked up--a shadow among shadows. Terry followed and stepped instantly into the presence of the sleeper. He could tell it plainly. There was no sound of breathing, though no doubt that was plain to the keen ear of Denver--but it was something more than sound or sight. It was like feeling a soul--that impalpable presence in the night. A ghostly and a thrilling thing to Terry Hollis. Now, against the window on the farther side of the room, he made out the dim outline of Denver's chunky shoulders and shapeless hat. Luckily the window was open to its full height. Presently Terry stood beside Denver and they looked down. The roof of the bank was only some four feet below them, but it was also a full three feet in distance from the side of the house. Terry motioned the yegg back and began to slip through the window. It was a long and painful process, for at any moment a button might catch or his gun scrape--and the least whisper would ruin everything. At length, he hung from his arms at full length. Glancing down, he faintly saw Lewison turn at the end of his beat. Why did not the fool look up? With that thought he drew up his feet, secured a firm purchase against the side of the house, raised himself by the ledge, and then flung himself out into the air with the united effort of arms and legs. He let himself go loose and relaxed in the air, shot down, and felt the roof take his weight lightly, landing on his toes. He had not only made the leap, but he had landed a full foot and a half in from the edge of the roof. Compared with the darkness of the interior of the house, everything on the outside was remarkably light now. He could see Denver at the window shaking his head. Then the professional slipped over the sill with practiced ease, dangled at arm's length, and flung himself out with a quick thrust of his feet against the wall.