d to touch
the chain, lest it should jingle and wake the Marquess; with an effort,
Heyton controlled the shaking hand, and, after some fumbling, took the
keys from the ring; as he did so, his eyes wandered apprehensively from
the things he was purloining to the face on the pillow; but in reality
his movements had been noiseless, and the Marquess had not awakened.

With the keys in his hand, Heyton stole into the dressing-room
adjoining, and closing the door softly, turned up the electric light. At
sight of the safe, his courage rose, his nerves grew more steady; he had
been careful to drink very little that night, and his brain was clear.
He unlocked the safe and looked inside it. There were bundles of papers
tied with tape and, at the back of them, a box covered with morocco
leather. Heyton's breath came fast and his eyes glistened; he had seen
that box once before, and knew that it contained the Sutcombe jewels. He
took it out of the safe, closed the door and had got half-way across the
room when he stopped suddenly; for it had occurred to him that, if he
took the box, the Marquis, if he chanced to go to the safe, would miss
it: it would be safer to empty the box of its precious contents and
replace it in the safe. As he had guessed, the smaller key fitted the
lock of the box; he opened it and, at sight of the diamonds and the
other gems, he caught his breath, his eyes dilated.

There is a mystic fascination in precious stones and, gazing at them,
Heyton yielded to that fascination and forgot for a moment, as his eyes
dwelt on their flashing beauty, the need which had compelled him to
steal them; but presently he released himself from the spell, thrust the
jewels into the capacious pockets of his dressing-gown, locked the box
and replaced it in the safe. As the safe door clanged softly to, he
heard, or fancied he heard, a slight noise in the adjoining bedroom; the
sound, actual or only fancied, struck a sudden terror to his craven
heart and he sprang towards the door leading on to the corridor. The
handle turned, but the door did not open: it was locked, and the key was
not in it.

The noise in the Marquess's bedroom grew more distinct, and it had now
resolved itself into the sound of footsteps. Livid with terror, with the
perspiration standing out on his forehead, Heyton leant against the door
as if powerless to move, powerless to stand upright. The door between
the dressing-room and the bedroom opened; instinctive