“Right you are. Tim gave me the tip.”
“You haven’t been fool enough to push your inquiries too far?” said Peace. “Tim, as you call him, might suspect.”
“He suspect?” returned the tinker, indignantly. “Not he. I was as good as gold.”
“It’s no use making a long palaver about the matter,” ejaculated Gregson. “Let’s to business.”
The three burglars made direct for Oakfield House. In the space of a few minutes they were busily at work to effect an entrance, but they found this by no means so easy a task as they had imagined. The windows and doors of the habitation were carefully secured, and, although they knew it not at the time, there was one inmate of the establishment keenly alive to every movement.
This was Jane Ryan, who was aroused from her lethargic reverie before the kitchen fire by a sound which was new to her ears.
Jane started and rose from her seat.
“I said something was about to happen,” she murmured, pressing her hand against her side. “I could have taken a Bible oath of it.”
She paused for a few moments, apparently in doubt as to what course to take; presently she appeared to have decided upon her line of action. She glided from the room with long, stealthy, and noiseless steps, carrying her shoes in her hand.
A sudden surprise awaited her two young masters.