low of the block, its dozen echoes diverted pursuit to as many
quarters, luring the limbs of the law every way but the right one.
Nobody, it appeared, was alert enough to espy that fugacious shadow on
the fire-ladder. And in less than a brace of minutes P. Sybarite, at
the top, was pulling himself gingerly over the lip of a stone coping.

Surmising that he had gained not the roof of the house but that of a
two-story rear extension, he found himself in what seemed a small
roof-garden, made private by awnings and Venetian blinds. Between his
soles and the stone flooring he could feel the yielding texture of a
grass mat, and he could not only dimly discern but also smell the
perfume of green things in pots here and there. And his first step
forward brought him into soft collision with a wicker basket-chair.

He paused and took thought in perturbation.

A most disappointing and deceptive sort of a house--inhabited, after
all: its sombre and quiet aspect masking Heaven alone knew what
pitfalls!...

Not a glint of light, not a sound....

When he moved again, it was with scrupulous caution.

Stealing softly on, the darkness seemed to thicken round him. He was
sensible of suspense and qualms, of creeping flesh and an almost
irresistible inclination to hold his breath. Uncanny business,
this--penetrating unknown fastnesses of a dark and silent house at
dead of night: a trespasser unable to surmise when the righteous
householder, lurking on familiar ground and vigilant under arms, might
not open fire....

Nevertheless, the police behind him were a menace of known calibre.
With whatever shrinkings and dire misgivings, P. Sybarite went on.

Without misadventure he gained the main wall of the house, and there
found open windows and (upon further cautious investigation) a
doorway, likewise wide to the bland night air. Hesitant on the
threshold of this last he sought with impotent senses to probe
impenetrable obscurity--listening, every nerve taut and vibrant, for
some sound significant of human tenancy, and detecting never an one.
In spite of this, it was without the least confidence that presently
he plucked up heart to proceed....

Three steps on into darkness, and his knee found a chair that might
have poised itself on one leg, in malicious ambush, so promptly did it
go over--and with what a racket.

Incontinently something rustled quite near at hand; followed a
click--blinding light--a shrill, excited voice:

"Hands