From where I was lying I could, by raising my head, just see the two top windows of the house.  About ten, as near as I could judge, somebody lit a candle in one of these rooms, and then coming to the window drew down the blind.  I waited patiently till I saw this dull glimmer of light disappear, then, with a not unpleasant throb of excitement, I crawled out from my hiding-place and recrossed the grass to my former point of observation.  Very gingerly I lifted myself up and peered over the top of the paling.  The yard was in shadow, and so far as I could see the back door and all the various outbuildings were locked up for the night.

Under ordinary circumstances I could have cleared that blessed paling in about thirty seconds, but in my present state of exhaustion it proved to be no easy matter.  However, with a mighty effort I at last succeeded in getting my right elbow on the top, and from that point I managed to scramble up and hoist myself over.  Then, keeping a watchful eye on the windows, I advanced towards the garage.

I found the key first shot.  It was resting on a little ledge under the roof, and a thrill of joy went through me as my fingers closed over it.  I pushed it into the keyhole, and very carefully I turned the lock.

It was quite dark inside, but I could just see the outline of the overalls hanging on the nail.  I unhooked them, and placing the coat on the ground I drew on the oily trousers over my convict breeches and stockings.  I could tell by the feel that they covered me up completely.

As I picked up the coat something rattled in one of the side pockets.  I put my hand in and pulled out a box of wax matches, which despite the dampness of the garment still seemed dry enough to strike.  For a moment I hesitated, wondering whether I dared to light one.  It was dangerous, especially if there happened to be a window looking out towards the house, but on the other hand I badly wanted a little illumination to see what I was doing.

I decided to risk it, and closing the door, struck one against the wall.  It flared up, and shading it with my hand I cast a hasty glance round the garage.  The bicycle was leaning against a shelf just beyond me, and on a nail above it I saw an old disreputable-looking cap.  I pounced on it joyfully, for it was the one thing I needed to complete my disguise.  Then, wheeling the bicycle past the car, I blew out the match and reopened the door.

Stepping as noiselessly as possible on the gravel, I pushed the bike across the yard.  There was a large patch of moonlight between me and the end of the drive, and I went through it with a horrible feeling in the small of my back that at any moment someone might fling up a window and bawl out, “Stop thief!” Nothing of the kind occurred, however, and with a vast sense of thankfulness I gained the shelter of the laurels.

The only thing that worried me was the thought that there might be a lodge at the top.  If so I was by no means out of the wood.  Even the most guileless of lodge-keepers would be bound to think it rather curious that I should be creeping out at this time of night accompanied by his master’s bicycle.