ved the ladder this very
instant!"

So I panted as I rushed on tiptoe to the dressing-room. Raffles had
the working end of his jimmy under the lid of a leathern jewel case.
It flew open at the vicious twist of his wrist that preceded his
reply.

"Did you let them see that you'd spotted that?"

"No."

"Good! Pocket some of these cases--no time to open them. Which door's
nearest the backstairs?"

"The other."

"Come on then!"

"No, no, I'll lead the way. I know every inch of it."

And, as I leaned against the bedroom door, handle in hand, while
Raffles stooped to unscrew the gimlet and withdraw the wedge, I hit
upon the ideal port in the storm that was evidently about to burst on
our devoted heads. It was the last place in which they would look for
a couple of expert cracksmen with no previous knowledge of the house.
If only we could gain my haven unobserved, there we might lie in
unsuspected hiding, and by the hour, if not for days and nights.

Alas for that sanguine dream! The wedge was out, and Raffles on his
feet behind me. I opened the door, and for a second the pair of us
stood upon the threshold.

Creeping up the stairs before us, each on the tip of his silken toes,
was a serried file of pink barbarians, redder in the face than
anywhere else, and armed with crops carried by the wrong end. The
monumental person with the short moustache led the advance. The fool
stood still upon the top step to let out the loudest and cheeriest
view-holloa that ever smote my ears.

It cost him more than he may know until I tell him. There was the wide
part of the landing between us; we had just that much start along the
narrow part, with the walls and doors upon our left, the banisters on
our right, and the baize door at the end. But if the great Guillemard
had not stopped to live up to his sporting reputation, he would
assuredly have laid one or other of us by the heels, and either would
have been tantamount to both. As I gave Raffles a headlong lead to the
baize door, I glanced down the great well of stairs, and up came the
daft yells of these sporting oafs:

"Gone away--gone away!"

"Yoick--yoick--yoick!"

"_Yon_-der they go!"

And gone I had, through the baize door to the back landing, with
Raffles at my heels. I held the swing door for him, and heard him bang
it in the face of the spluttering and blustering master of the house.
Other feet were already in the lower flight of the backstairs; but the
upper fl