The Amateur Cracksman
raw clay beds. "Bells in themselves," as Raffles whispered; "there's nothing else rustles so—cunning old beast!" And we gave them a wide berth as we crept across the grass.
"He's gone to bed!"
"I don't think so, Bunny. I believe he's seen us."
"Why?"
"I saw a light."
"Where?"
"Downstairs, for an instant, when I——"
His whisper died away; he had seen the light again; and so had I.
It lay like a golden rod under the front-door—and vanished. It reappeared like a gold thread under the lintel—and vanished for good. We heard the stairs creak, creak, and cease, also for good. We neither saw nor heard any more, though we stood waiting on the grass till our feet were soaked with the dew.
"I'm going in," said Raffles at last. "I don't believe he saw us at all. I wish he had. This way."
We trod gingerly on the path, but the
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