"All shut up and Mrs. Waters abed,
bless her," whispered the boatswain, after walking care-fully round the
house. "How do you feel?"
"I'm all right," said Mr. Travers. "I feel as if I'd been burgling all
my life. How do you feel?"
"Narvous," said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the rear of the
house. "This is the one."
Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. All was
still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined the
boatswain.
"Good-bye, mate," he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. "Death or
victory."
The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into his hand.
"Take your time; there's no hurry," he muttered. "I want to pull myself
together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she screams I'll
come in."
Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the window.
"Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?" he inquired.
"No; it's my faithful 'art," said the boat-swain, "keeping watch over her
every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better."
Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to the other.
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