Somewhere within him Toby cherished a distinct affection for this old-fashioned gentleman, and he was aware that this was reciprocated. To how great an extent, however, this esteem would be affected by his entering the gentleman’s room by the window at one A.M. he did not care to surmise. He made a brief inspection, then secured a firm hold on the drain-pipe, collected a bunch of ivy in the other hand, and commenced to climb. At first his progress was slow. By skilful work he nevertheless rose foot by foot until he at last reached a window on the first floor parallel with Mr Seymour’s own. He swung on to this window-ledge and gravely considered the prospect of his being able to move sideways across the face of the wall. So far as he could see there was only one practicable route. He must climb to the story next above, make use of the attic window-ledge, and swing from here to the window immediately above his destination. From here he could drop from his hands and land neatly and daintily, like the falling petal of a flower, upon Mr Seymour’s window-sill. This he did with delightful grace.
Five minutes later the blade of his pocket-knife was moving gently between the upper and lower halves of the window, and after a moment’s work he had pushed the catch carefully aside. He paused then for a moment, like the look-out in the crow’s nest of a ship, to gaze down and take in the surrounding view. For the first time in his life he was clinging to the wall of a house in the loneliest hour of the night and about to break into a gentleman’s apartment. He sighed happily as a man will who delights in new experiences, turned inwards and slowly raised the lower half of the window. Then he stepped into the room and sat down on the inner window-ledge. The blast of cold air which his entry had introduced had an almost immediate effect in a noise of pronounced discontent from the recesses of the room. As his eyes grew used to the dark he dimly perceived a long arm reaching a bunch of blanket and drawing it gratefully about the pillow. Toby collected himself for discovery. The terrifying thought flashed through his mind that he might possibly have come to the wrong room. Supposing that by some freak of Fate Mr Seymour chanced to have changed his quarters during the last few days? He cast a hurried glance at his only means of escape, then steeled himself for the worst and spoke:
“Mr Seymour.”
At first there was no reply. It was difficult to know, however, whether this was because Mr Seymour was not yet awake or whether he was endeavouring to decide what to say in reply. At last Toby repeated his salutation.
Mr Seymour woke in a sudden convulsion of uncertainty, shuddered a great many times, and spoke.
“What?” said he. “Oh, please—for goodness’ sake do shut that door.”
Toby considerately closed the window.
“May I switch on the light?” he inquired. “Shall I fall over anything?”
“Whatever is it?” sighed Mr Seymour. “Put on the light, yes. Really, I—— Who is it wants me? I——”
Toby stumbled across the room, cannoned violently into the bed and, reaching the switch, at last flooded the room with light. As he did so he explained himself briefly: