the wrists."

They spent the rest of the summer evening in maturing their plans and
piquet. Having given his word Mr. Hedderwick scorned to withdraw, though
it was plain that he did not relish the prospect of a night attack.
Tony, in addition to the lantern, procured some rope and a sack from the
landlord. "To put the moths in, Mr. Glew," he said brightly by way of
explanation.

"_To put the morths in!_" repeated Glew in a dazed fashion. "To put the
MORTHS in! TO PUT THE----"

He was still repeating the formula when the adventurous pair set out.

It was a quarter past ten, thirty minutes before the odd-job man was
wont to meet the lady of his heart. They reached The Quiet House in some
ten minutes, and then skirted the wall for a short distance, till Tony
stopped with a whispered "Here we are!" It was in a bridle-path that
they found themselves, about eighty yards from the main road that ran
through Shereling. Tony crouched down behind a convenient clump of
bramble and lighted the lamp.

"I'll light you up the wall," he said softly. "When you get to the top,
hang by your hands and drop quietly down. There's soft grass ten feet
beneath you. As soon as you're up I shall put out the light, for I know
the way by heart now."

With a resentful obedience Robert observed the big nails that had been
driven into the brickwork by the amorous Brown. Heartily wishing himself
at home--or at least in the snug security of The Happy Heart--but loath
to plead his years or cowardice, Mr. Hedderwick put his foot on the
lowest spike, grasped one above his head, and began the ascent. To an
active boy it would have been a trivial feat; to an elderly adventurer
it was full of pain, and in spite of an heroic spirit he was more than
once on the point of climbing down again. Something, however, forbade
the refusal of the adventure: curiosity or shame held him to his word.
The glimmer of Tony's lantern following--nay, leading him ever upward,
shone like a beacon of promise in the dark. The thought spurred him, and
it was not until he had one leg across the top of the wall that he
reflected on a change of simile: the light might rather be a
will-o'-the-wisp luring him to destruction or disgrace. For a moment his
courage failed.

"Mr. Wild!" he whispered despairingly, "I'm----"

The light went out.

"All right?" said the cheering voice of his fellow criminal. "Good. I'm
coming."

He began to follow, rope, sack and lantern coiled over h