The moment was decisive and solemn. “Now, father,” said Agricola, “we will act with as much craft and daring as thieves going to pillage a strong box.”
So saying, the smith took from the sack the cord and hook; Dagobert armed himself with the iron bar, and both advanced cautiously, following the wall in the direction of the little door, situated not far from the angle formed by the street and the boulevard. They stopped from time to time, to listen attentively, trying to distinguish those noises which were not caused either by the high wind or the rain.
It continued light enough for them to be able to see surrounding objects, and the smith and the soldier soon gained the little door, which appeared much decayed, and not very strong.
“Good!” said Agricola to his father. “It will yield at one blow.”
The smith was about to apply his shoulder vigorously to the door, when Spoil-sport growled hoarsely, and made a “point.” Dagobert silenced the dog with a word, and grasping his son’s arm, said to him in a whisper: “Do not stir. The dog has scented some one in the garden.”
Agricola and his father remained for some minutes motionless, holding their breath and listening. The dog, in obedience to his master, no longer growled, but his uneasiness and agitation were displayed more and more. Yet they heard nothing.
“The dog must have been deceived, father,” whispered Agricola.
“I am sure of the contrary. Do not move.”
After some seconds of expectation, Spoil-sport crouched down abruptly, and pushed his nose as far as possible under the door, snuffling up the air.
“They are coming,” said Dagobert hastily, to his son.