All was still.
There was a flickering lamp in the hall, but the men seemed to be asleep.
Another hour passed.
There was no noise.
Then Dacres ventured down. He moved slowly and cautiously, crouching low, and thus traversing the intervening space.
He neared the house and touched it. Before him was the window of the lower story. Above him was the window of the upper story. He lifted up his hands. They could reach the window-ledge.
He put his long, keen knife between his teeth, and caught at the upper window-ledge. Exerting all his strength, he raised himself up so high that he could fling one elbow over. For a moment he hung thus, and waited to take breath and listen.
There was a rush below. Half a dozen shadowy forms surrounded him. He had been seen. He had been trapped.
He dropped down and, seizing his knife, struck right and left.
In vain. He was hurled to the ground and bound tight.