The St. Amory's clock could be heard striking the half hour after one when Jack and Acton parted at the corner of Corker's garden.
"Jack," said Acton, "good night! and you need not trouble about the £7. You've done more for me than that, and I shall not forget it."
Jack, almost weeping with gratitude, said, "Good night, Acton!" in a fervent whisper, and scuttled over Corker's flower-beds. He pushed up his window and crawled through, and, seeing that all was as he had left it after supper, he undressed and jumped into bed, and in a few minutes slept the sleep of the just.
Acton had managed his re-entrance just as successfully—did he ever fail?—and the thought of Bourne's hopeless rage, when he should find out about Jack's escapade, made him sleep the sleep of the happy man. He was made that way.
He Pushed Up His Window And Crawled Through.