IN THE NIGHT The night was moonless, dark, warm with the inviting softness of late spring that holds out promises of romance.

Stars wavered and wimpled in the black waters of the Hudson as a launch put out in silence from the foot of Twenty-seventh Street.
This launch contained four men.

They carried but little baggage; no more than could be stowed in a rucksack apiece.

All were in their old service uniforms, with long coats over the uniforms to mask them.

All carried vacuum-flashlights in their overcoat pockets, and lethal-gas pistols, in addition to ordinary revolvers or automatics.