of the houses. There were gaslights
which flickered in the gale along the main road; but everything was in
the densest gloom at the rear of the buildings and down the side
streets. As the church clock struck two, the first stroke loud and
distinct, the next like its mournful echo--as the sound was borne away
by the fitful breeze, the conspirators crept with the utmost caution to
the back of Johnson's house. Not a sound but their own muffled
footsteps could be heard. Not a light was visible through any window.
No voice except that of the wailing wind broke the deep stillness. The
black walls of the different dwellings rose up dreary and solemn, with
spectral-looking pipes dimly projecting from them. The drip, drip of
the rain, as it fell off the smoky slates, or streamed down the walls,
giving them here and there a dusky glaze, intensified the mournful
loneliness of the whole scene.

"Crouch you down under the water-butt," whispered Ben Stone, the man who
had proposed the scheme, and who now acted as leader.

"Will, give me your shoulder--where's the lantern?"

In another moment he was close to the window, which was gently raised,
but at that instant something struck him on the back, he uttered a half-
suppressed exclamation, and nearly loosed his hold.

"It's only a cat," whispered one of the men below. "All's right."
Stone again raised himself to the window, and pushed it farther up; then
he drew himself down out of sight and listened. Not a sound came from
the chamber to show that Johnson's sleep was disturbed. Again the man
raised himself. He had previously taken off his clogs, as had also the
others. Very gradually and warily, with suppressed breath, he lowered
himself on to the floor. All was safe so far. Betty had slept here,
but her bed was now empty; indeed, to Ben Stone's surprise, the bedstead
was bare both of mattress and bedclothes. Johnson's was the inner
chamber. Ben stole softly to the door, all was dark and quiet; he could
just make out the bed, and that a figure lay upon it. He hastily caused
the light of the lantern to flash on the recumbent form for a single
moment, it seemed to him to move; he crouched down close to the floor,
and listened--again all was still. He was now convinced that Johnson
lay there in a deep sleep. Now was the time. Stepping back to the
window on tiptoe, he put out his head, and whispered,--

"All's right; come up as quietly as you can."

They were all