Peace felt greatly relieved.
The question was, how could he manage to get clear off. He unlocked the door of the wardrobe and peered out.
No other person was in the bedchamber besides himself. He looked out of the window, the croquet players were no longer visible.
They had in all probability betaken themselves to the dining-room. He felt assured of this as he heard the confused number of voices proceeding from the lower portion of the house.
He waited till he thought they had taken their seats at the dinner-table, then he went to the landing and listened.
A savoury odour found its way up the staircase, and the clatter of dishes was distinctly audible.
“Now is my time,” murmured the burglar.
He passed down the front flight of stairs and beheld servants passing to and fro in the hall.
What was to be done? His retreat was cut off. If he attempted to descend into the hall detection was certain, and to remain where he was would be almost as bad.
By this time it was nearly dark on the outside of the house, but the blaze of light came from the rooms below and the gas lamp in the hall. Peace was sadly perplexed. Every moment he expected the articles he had purloined would be missed.