“‘Don’t see no marks,’ answered Fred; ’besides there ain’t no one here.  Hallo! what’s that?’

“‘That’ was a loud creak on the upper stairs near the first-floor landing, doubtless emanating from Miss Slodger or the cook.  I have no doubt that these sounds of stealthy movement were highly disturbing to the burglars, especially in the present circumstances.  And so it appeared, for the answer came in an obviously frightened whisper:  ’There’s someone on the stairs, Fred. Let’s hook it.  This job ain’t no class.’

“‘What!’ was the indignant reply. ’’Ook it and leave all that stuff.  Not me!  Nor you neither.  There’s more’n what one of us can carry.  And you put away that barker or else you’ll be lettin’ it off and bringin’ in the coppers.  D’ye ‘ear?’

“‘Ain’t going to be done in the dark same as what Joe’s been,’ the other whispered sulkily.  ’If anyone comes down ’ere, I pots ‘im.’

“At this moment there was another very audible creak from above, and then followed rapidly a succession of events which I subsequently disentangled, but which, at the time, were involved in utter confusion.  What actually happened was that Fred had begun boldly to ascend the stairs, in some way missing the fishing-line, and being closely followed by his more nervous comrade.  The latter, less fortunate, caught his foot in the line, stumbled, tightened the line and brought the shot-bag hopping down the stairs.  What I heard was the sound of the stumble, followed by the quick thud, thud, of the descending shot-bag, exactly resembling the footfalls of a heavy man running down the stairs barefoot.  Then came two revolver shots in quick succession, a shower of plaster, a hoarse cry, a heavy fall, and, from above, a loud scuffling followed by the slamming of a door and the noisy turning of a key; a brief interval of silence and then a quavering whisper.

“’I ain’t ’it yer, Fred, ‘ave I?’

“To this question there was no answer but a gurgling groan.  I stepped out from my hiding-place, passed through the open doorway and stole softly along the hall, guided by the sound of the survivor extricating himself from his fallen comrade.  A few paces from him I halted with the concussor poised ready to strike and listened to his fumbling and scuffling.  Suddenly a bright light burst forth.  He had found Fred’s electric lantern, which was, oddly enough, uninjured by the fall (it had a metal filament, as I subsequently ascertained).

“The circle of light from the bulls-eye, quivering with the tremor of the hand which held the lantern, embraced the figure of the injured burglar, huddled in a heap at the foot of the stairs and still twitching at intervals.  It could not have been a pleasant sight to his companion.  The greenish-white face with its staring eyes and blood-stained lips stood out in the bright light from its background of black darkness with the vivid intensity of some ghastly wax-work.