He was still repeating the formula when the adventurous pair set out.
It was a quarter past ten, thirty minutes before the odd-job man was wont to meet the lady of his heart. They reached The Quiet House in some ten minutes, and then skirted the wall for a short distance, till Tony stopped with a whispered "Here we are!" It was in a bridle-path that they found themselves, about eighty yards from the main road that ran through Shereling. Tony crouched down behind a convenient clump of bramble and lighted the lamp.
"I'll light you up the wall," he said softly. "When you get to the top, hang by your hands and drop quietly down. There's soft grass ten feet beneath you. As soon as you're up I shall put out the light, for I know the way by heart now."
With a resentful obedience Robert observed the big nails that had been driven into the brickwork by the amorous Brown. Heartily wishing himself at home—or at least in the snug security of The Happy Heart—but loath to plead his years or cowardice, Mr. Hedderwick put his foot on the lowest spike, grasped one above his head, and began the ascent. To an active boy it would have been a trivial feat; to an elderly adventurer it was full of pain, and in spite of an heroic spirit he was more than once on the point of climbing down again. Something, however, forbade the refusal of the adventure: curiosity or shame held him to his word. The glimmer of Tony's lantern following—nay, leading him ever upward, shone like a beacon of promise in the dark. The thought spurred him, and it was not until he had one leg across the top of the wall that he reflected on a change of simile: the light might rather be a will-o'-the-wisp luring him to destruction or disgrace. For a moment his courage failed.
"Mr. Wild!" he whispered despairingly, "I'm——"
The light went out.
"All right?" said the cheering voice of his fellow criminal. "Good. I'm coming."
He began to follow, rope, sack and lantern coiled over his shoulders. With a groan of resolution Robert wiped the sweat of fear from his forehead and dropped lightly to the ground.
Tony joined him a moment later, breathing a little quickly from the climb. Without a word he walked cautiously forward, Robert close behind, until they reached a thicket of elder-bushes. Into the heart of this they crept, making as little noise as possible. Presently, when Tony judged they were so placed as to be secure from observation, themselves able to observe, they halted. "May as well sit down," whispered Tony; "quite likely we shall have to wait a bit." He spread the sack upon the ground and the two of them established themselves upon it, clasping their knees.
The night, most luckily, was fine. There was no hint of rain, and little dew was falling. There was no moon, and the fitful starlight only served to display the immensity of the darkness, the monstrous tree-shapes looming threateningly on them, the overwhelming horror of The Quiet House. Black against the dark background of the sky it reared its bulk above them, seeming to menace the guilty pair with nightmare terrors, starting ghoulish fancies, prosaic fears of the police, a child's dread of the dark and all its goblins. It was so silent, powerful, unknown. Mr. Hedderwick's flesh crept with a chill that was not climatic, and instinctively he huddled closer to his companion.