On the floor beside one of the cots stood a bottle almost full, and an empty glass. O'Brien picked up the bottle and smelled of it.
"The proper stuff for a nightcap," he said to himself and taking a small bottle out of his pocket, shook the contents into the larger bottle. "A druggist for a brother is a handy thing," he chuckled as he returned to the front room.
He stood irresolute for a moment, then looked up at the small square trap above him. A rickety table stood near one of the windows, and setting it under the trap he leaped lightly to its soiled top. The ceiling was very high, but he managed to reach up and shove the trap aside, and catching the ledge swung himself up.
O'Brien was no fairy, and it was a tight squeeze, but he wriggled through with no greater damage than a torn coat and a barked knuckle. Using his flashlight, he saw that he was in a small circular space about twelve feet across. The top was cone shape, and there was no floor. Dust lay inches deep on the rafters where he sat uncomfortably. Then he saw something that caused his heart to leap delightedly. Directly beside him, tied with a cord and covered with broken seals, lay a packet of papers. O'Brien knew that his hunt had not been in vain. Buttoning the papers carefully inside his coat, he put a leg down through the trap when a sound below caused him to drag it quickly back and clap the trap over in its place.
A key grated in the lock. Someone was coming.
"An all night job for me!" sighed O'Brien, then remembered with a gleam of hope the powder he had added to the contents of the bottle. Changing his position, he stretched himself along a rafter, nearly losing his balance as he did so. But he managed to save himself from bursting through the plaster, although he heard it crack beneath the foot that had pressed on it for a moment.
"Who left the gas on?" said someone with an oath.
O'Brien recognized the gruff voice of Brown.
"Search me!" someone else answered, and another hastened to clear himself of the charge.
"It must have been John," said Brown. "Where is he? I thought he was right on our heels. He is no good at all. Wish someone would croak him!" He slammed the door, and came over to the table under the trap. A moment later one of the other men came into O'Brien's narrow range of vision, carrying the bottle and glass. He set it on the table, and looked at Brown.