“Now,” said the gipsy, “where had I better wait with the trap?”
“There is a narrow lane runs by yonder house, wait there. If a bobby says anything to you, tell him you’ve lost your way, and are uncertain which road to take. But lor, it’s so far removed from the high road, and is, moreover, so dark, that you will not be seen.”
Peace alighted with his implements and bag, and crept through the shrubbery in front of the house.
The gipsy drove slowly on to the dark lane.
No other persons besides their two selves were to be seen.
Peace passed through the grounds unobserved by any one.
He then took a survey of the residence he was about to perform on.
No lights were visible at any of the windows, and to all appearance the inmates of the house had long since retired to rest.
Peace had been informed in the early portion of the day that the owner and his domestics were early people; he therefore concluded that the inmates were asleep.
But as he had met with one or two failures he was more than usually cautious on this occasion, so that he might render the possibility of discomfiture still more remote.