"Don't do it, old lad," Neddy advised. "If we 'ave to get out, or anything of that kind, you don't want to jingle as if you was a glass chandelier, do you?"
Mike admitted the cogency of the objection, and they agreed to be off. Mike started for the window. "I'll just pick up the Sergeant," he said, "and signal you 'All clear.' Then you follow out."
"No, Mike," said Neddy slowly, but very decisively. "If you don't mind, it's going to be me as gets out of that window first. I ain't a man of your eddication, and—well, blast me if I'm going to be left in this place alone with—that there!" He motioned with his head, back over his shoulder, towards where silent Mr. Saffron sat.
"You're a blooming ass, Neddy, but have it your own way. Only let me see the coast's clear first."
He stole to the window and looked around. He assumed that the Sergeant was at his post, but all the same he wanted to have a look at the road himself. So he had, and the result was satisfactory. It was hardly to be expected that he should scrutinize the ground immediately under the window; at any rate he did not think of that. It was, as Beaumaroy had conjectured, from another direction—from the parlour—that he anticipated a possible attack. There all was quiet. He came back and reported to Neddy that the moment was favourable. "I'll switch off the torch, though—just in case. You can feel your way; keep to the edge of the steps; don't knock up against——"
"I'll take damned good care not to!" muttered Neddy, with a little shiver.
He made his way to the window, through the darkness, having slung his sack over his shoulder and holding it with his right hand, while with the left he guided himself up the dais and along its outside edge, giving as wide a berth as possible to the great chair and its encircling canopy. With a sigh of relief he found the window, moved the sack from his shoulder, and set it on the ledge for a moment. But it was awkward to get down from the window, holding that heavy sack. He lowered it towards the ground, so that it might land gently, and, just as he let it go, he turned his head back and whispered to Mike, "All serene. Get a move on!"
"Half a minute!" answered Mike, as he in his turn set out to grope his way to the window.
But he was not so cautious as his friend had been. In his progress he kicked the tall footstool sharply with one of his feet. Neddy leant back from the window, asking quickly, and again very nervously, "What the devil's that?"
Beaumaroy could not resist the opportunity thus offered to him. He was crouching on the ground, not exactly under the window, but just to the right of it. Neddy's face was turned away; he threw himself on to the bag, rose to his feet, raised it cautiously, and holding it in front of him with both his hands—its weight was fully as much as he could manage—was round the curve of the Tower, and out of sight with it in an instant.