In another moment he was close to the window, which was gently raised, but at that instant something struck him on the back, he uttered a half-suppressed exclamation, and nearly loosed his hold.
“It’s only a cat,” whispered one of the men below. “All’s right.” Stone again raised himself to the window, and pushed it farther up; then he drew himself down out of sight and listened. Not a sound came from the chamber to show that Johnson’s sleep was disturbed. Again the man raised himself. He had previously taken off his clogs, as had also the others. Very gradually and warily, with suppressed breath, he lowered himself on to the floor. All was safe so far. Betty had slept here, but her bed was now empty; indeed, to Ben Stone’s surprise, the bedstead was bare both of mattress and bedclothes. Johnson’s was the inner chamber. Ben stole softly to the door, all was dark and quiet; he could just make out the bed, and that a figure lay upon it. He hastily caused the light of the lantern to flash on the recumbent form for a single moment, it seemed to him to move; he crouched down close to the floor, and listened—again all was still. He was now convinced that Johnson lay there in a deep sleep. Now was the time. Stepping back to the window on tiptoe, he put out his head, and whispered,—
“All’s right; come up as quietly as you can.”
They were all soon in the outer chamber.
“Now,” said Stone in a low voice, “you give me the furze—there, that’ll do. Will, have you got the pot with the powder and lamp-black?—that’s your sort—where’s the ropes?—all right—now then.”
All reached the floor of the outer room without any mishap, and then, treading with the utmost caution, approached the bed in the inner room. The sleeper did not stir. Ben Stone threw the light upon the prostrate figure, which lay coiled up, and apparently quite unconscious. A rope was now thrown loosely round, the men crawling along the floor, and just raising themselves on one elbow as they jerked it lightly across the bedstead; then another coil was made higher up, still the sleeper did not stir hand or foot.
“Now, then,” cried Ben, half out loud, and throwing the full blaze of the lantern on the bed’s head; in a moment the other men had drawn the ropes tight, and Jones leant over with his pot. But before Ben had time to plunge the furze upon the unhappy victim’s face, a suppressed cry broke from the whole group. It was no living being that lay there, but only a bundle of old carpeting, with a dirty coverlid thrown over it. The next instant the truth burst upon them all. Johnson was gone. They looked at one another the very picture of stupid bewilderment. A hasty flash of the lantern showed that there was no other bed in the chamber.
“Well, here’s a go,” whispered Jones; “the bird’s flown, and a pretty tale we shall have to tell.”
“Stop,” said Ben, in an under-voice, and motioning the others to keep quiet, “maybe he’s sleeping on the couch-chair in the house.”
“I’ll go and see,” said Jones.