And now the game became more serious and more nervous—­the pair drew their clasp knives and placed them in their bosoms ready in case of extremity; then creeping like cats, one foot at a time and then a pause, ascended the back stairs, at the top of which was a door.  But this door was not fastened, and in another moment they passed through it and were on the first landing.  The plan, correct in every particular, indicated the plate closet to their right.  A gleam from the lantern showed it; the key-hole was old-fashioned as also described, and in a moment brutus had it open.  Then mephisto whipped out a green baize bag with compartments, and in a minute these adroit hands had stowed away cups, tureens, baskets, soup-spoons, etc., to the value of three hundred pounds, and scarce a chink heard during the whole operation.  It was done; a look passed as much as to say this is enough, and they crept back silent and cat-like as they had come, brutus leading with the bag.  Now just as he had his hand on the door through which they had come up—­snick! click!—­a door was locked somewhere down below.

brutus looked round and put the bag gently down.  “Where?” he whispered.

“Near the kitchen,” was the reply scarce audible.  “Sounded to me to come from the hall,” whispered the other.

Both men changed color, but retained their presence of mind and their cunning. brutus stepped back to the plate-closet, put the bag in it, and closed it, but without locking it.  “Stay there,” whispered he, “and if I whistle—­run out the back way empty-handed.  If I mew—­out with the bag and come out by the front door; nothing but inside bolts to it, plan says.”

They listened a moment, there was no fresh sound.  Then brutus slipped down the front stairs in no time; he found the front door not bolted; he did not quite understand that, and drawing a short bludgeon, he opened it very cautiously; the caution was not superfluous.  Two gentlemen made a dash at him from the outside the moment the door was open; one of their heads cracked like a broken bottle under the blow the ready ruffian struck him with his bludgeon, and he dropped like a shot; but another was coming flying across the lawn with a drawn cutlass, and brutus, finding himself overmatched, gave one loud whistle and flew across the hall, making for the kitchen.  Flew he never so fast mephisto was there an instant before him.  As for the gentleman at the door he was encumbered with his hurt companion, who fell across his knees as he rushed at the burglar. brutus got a start of some seconds and dashed furiously into the kitchen and flew to the only door between them and the scullery-window.

THE DOOR WAS LOCKED.

The burglar’s eyes gleamed in their deep caverns, “Back, Will—­and cut through them,” he cried—­and out flashed his long bright knife.

CHAPTER XLIX.