But time pressed.  He knew now that he should certainly climb over that gate again, though for the present he did not dare to stay; and stooping, almost creeping, over the open lawn and the bed of lilies, he began to work his way homeward by the wall, and through old borders where the thickest trees and shrubs had always grown.

At last, after pushing on for a little distance, he paused to rest in a clump of fir-trees, one of which had been dead for so many years that all its twigs and smaller boughs had decayed and dropped to the ground.  Only the large branches, gaunt and skeleton-like, were left standing, and in a fork between two of these and quite within his reach, in a lump of soft felt, or perhaps beaver, he noticed something that glittered.  Peter drew it away from the soft material it was lying among, and looked at it.  It was a sort of gold band—­perhaps it was gold lace, for it was flexible—­he had often heard of gold lace, but had not seen any.  As he drew it away something else that depended from a morsel of the lump of rag fell away from it, and dropped at his feet.  It might have been some sort of badge or ornament, but it was not perfect, though it still glittered, for it had threads of gold wrought in it.  “This is almost in the shape of an anchor,” said Peter, as he wrapped the gold band round it, “and I think it must have been lost here for ages; perhaps ever since that old uncle Mortimer that I saw was a little boy.”

So then with the piece of gold band wrapped round his hand he began to press on, and if he had not stopped to mark the places where two or three more nests were, he would have been quicker still.

On and on, how dangerously delightful his adventure had been!  What would become of him if he could not get down to-morrow?

On and on, his heart beat with exultation; he was close to the steps and he had not been discovered; he was close to the top of them and had not been discovered; he was just about to climb over when he heard a cry that rang in his ears long after, a sharp, piercing cry, and turning he saw his great-grandmother in her cloak and hood standing in the entrance of the alcove, and reaching out her hands as if she wanted to come and meet him, but could not stir.

“Peter!  Peter!  Peter!” she cried, and her voice seemed to echo all over the place.

Peter tumbled over the gate as fast as he possibly could; and as she still cried, he ran to her at the top of his speed.

All in a moment she seemed to become quite still, and though she trembled as she seized him, she did not scold him at all; while he mumbled out, “I only just went down for a very little while.  I only wanted just to look for my top; I didn’t take any of the nests,” he continued, mentioning the most valuable things he had been amongst, according to his own opinion.

His grandmother had let go his hand and raised herself upright; her eyes were on the bit of gold band.  “What’s that?” she said faintly.