Rollo had not been scraping more than five minutes when he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
"This is new cement, Mr. Primmer!" he exclaimed. "Look: it's quite clean underneath the surface. Silas has been doing a bit of camouflage; rubbing soot over the joints. The stuff hasn't penetrated the cement like it has elsewhere. However, we've done enough for the present. We'll start again to-morrow morning. I don't think we'll have much difficulty now."
That night Rollo slept heavily. He had had a strenuous day. Accustomed to plenty of fresh air, he invariably slept with the bedroom window wide open.
Suddenly he awoke with a start to find the room full of moist vapour. A sea-fog, banking up after a warm, humid day, had swept inland.
It was not the fog that had aroused him. A curious horripilation, such as he had never before experienced, gripped him. For some moments he lay with wide-open eyes fixed upon the dark grey rectangular patch of open window.
Something prompted him to get out of bed and go to the window. He did so. Above the fogbank, which perhaps was less than fifty feet from the ground, the stars were shining. The fleecy pall of vapour was moving, curling, and alternately diminishing and increasing in volume as it was urged landwards by the faint breeze. The fog, catching at his throat, made him cough slightly. As he did so, he distinctly heard the sound of footsteps moving rapidly and stealthily away.
His bedroom window was less than ten feet from the ground, the house being low. On his left was the front of the kitchen—a one-storeyed building. It was from that direction that the sound of the mysterious footsteps came.
Rollo's first impulse was to drop to the ground and go in pursuit, but calmer counsel prevailed. He was at an obvious disadvantage. He was not at all acquainted with the ground surrounding the house. He was barefooted and in pyjamas. There was also the question of arousing Primmer and his wife, since if he jumped from the window he could not regain his room except by the door, which was barred and locked. Besides, by this time the intruder had gone a considerable distance, for his footsteps were no longer audible.
"Well, I think I scared him," he mused. "In future, while I'm here I think I'll have a bed made up in the old kitchen. Then, if any one tries to break in he'll feel sorry for himself."
Next morning Vyse related what had occurred. Examination of the kitchen door showed that no attempt had been made to force it. Apparently the nocturnal visitor had either been disturbed before he could get to work, or either he had contented himself with flashing a lantern through the window, which was too narrow even for a slim man to squeeze through.