The room in which Chip was confined was the sybil's chief pride. Every
article of furniture, every bit of painting, the carpets, and even the
base-burning stove, were the trophies of successful robberies.

The very sheets and towels had been deftly purloined by the widow
herself.

It was this stronghold of the "gang," to which Chip, battered and
insensible, had been brought by his captors.

Cummings, who from his actions was no stranger to the house, in brief
authoritative tones, bade the witch to take charge of this prisoner
until further disposition could be made of him.

The widow listened to his words, and with the submission which all his
associates rendered to him, promised to do all he commanded.

The first gleam of the morning warned the two men that they must seek
their cover, for despite Jim's natural boldness and daring, he was
cautious and careful. Instead of descending to the room which had its
entrance from the alley, they mounted another flight of stairs, and
gaining the roof by means of the scuttle, walked the flat mansard until
another hatch-door was reached, and through it they entered a quiet,
unassuming appearing house, which stood on the side street from which
the alley branched.

The house, though completely furnished, was vacant, and the men reached
the street without meeting any one.