“He’s bound to keep it now, whatever happens,” Mr. Verney said. “In order to make as little noise as possible to-night,” he added, “I have wrapped felt round the tyres.”
He then took a bag from the shelf, placed it on the barrow, and they stole out. Mr. Verney’s landlady had gone to bed, and there was no sound of anyone in the village. The truck made no noise.
After half a mile they came to the cross-roads where Thomas Barnes’ cottage stood, and Mr. Verney walked to the house and knocked loudly.
There was no answer. Indeed, he had not expected one, but he wished to make sure that Thomas had not returned from Westerfield sooner than he should.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “Now for the anti-burgling.”
He wheeled the truck to the side of the gate leading to the shed, and, taking the bag, they passed through. Mr. Verney opened the bag and took out a lantern, a hammer, and a screw-driver.
“We must get this padlock off,” he said, and while Mary held the lantern he worked away at the fastenings. It was more difficult than he expected, especially as he did not want to break anything, but to put it back exactly as it had been. Several minutes passed.
“There,” he cried; “that’s it.”
At the same moment a sound of heavy footsteps was heard, and Mary gave a little scream and dropped the lantern.
A strong hand gripped her arm.