In thus congratulating himself, he was premature.  His action had been based on a miscalculation.  He had heard only Neddy’s last exclamation, not the cautious whispers previously exchanged between him and Mike; he thought that the man astride the window-sill himself had kicked something and instinctively exclaimed, “What the devil’s that?” He thought that the sack was lowered from the window in order to be committed to the temporary guardianship of the Sergeant, who was doubtless looking out for it and, if he had his ears open, would hear its gentle thud.  Perhaps the man in the Tower was collecting a second instalment of booty; heavy as the sack was, it did not contain all that he knew to be in Captain Duggle’s grave.  Be that as it might, the man would climb out of the window soon; and he would fail to find his sack.

What would he do then?  He would signal or call to the Sergeant; or, if they had a preconcerted rendezvous, he would betake himself there, expecting to find his accomplice.  He would neither get an answer from him nor find him, of course.  Equally, of course, he would look for him.  But the last place where he would expect to find him—­the last place he would search—­would be where the Sergeant in fact was, the house itself.  If, in his search for Hooper, he found Beaumaroy, it would be man to man, and, now again, Beaumaroy had no objection.

But, in fact, there were two men in the Tower—­one of them big Neddy; and the function, which Beaumaroy supposed to have been intrusted to the Sergeant, had never been assigned to him at all; to guard the door and the road had been his only tasks.  When they found the bag gone, and the Sergeant too, they might well think that the Sergeant had betrayed them; that he had gone off on his own account, or that he had, at the last moment, under an impulse of fear or a calculation of interest, changed sides and joined the garrison in the house.  If he had gone off with the sack, he could not have gone fast or far with it.  Failing to overtake him, they might turn back to the cottage; for they knew themselves to be in superior force.  Beaumaroy was in greater danger than he knew—­and so was Doctor Mary in the house.

Big Neddy let himself down from the window, and put down his hand to lift up the sack; he groped about for it for some seconds, during which time Mike also climbed over the window-sill and dropped on to the ground below.  Neddy emitted a low but strenuous oath.

“The sack’s gone, Mike!” he added in a whisper.

“Gone?  Rot!  Can’t be!  What do you mean, Neddy?”

“I dropped it straight ’ere.  It’s gone,” Neddy persisted.  “The Sergeant must ’ave took it.”

“No business of his!  Where is the fool?” Mike’s voice was already uneasy; thieves themselves seldom believe in there being honor among them.  “You stay here.  I’ll go to the door and see if he’s there.”