"Why, surely. The fellow never got in here without some local assistance, and I am rather certain that this comes from the stables. Besides, no one will be expecting us." He came down agilely. Breitmann nodded approvingly at the ease with which the other made the descent. "It would be wiser to leave the cellar by the window," he suggested. "My idea, too. We'll make a step out of this board. The stars are bright enough." Fitzgerald climbed out first, and then gave a hand to Breitmann. "I understood there was a burglar alarm in the house." "Yes; but this very window, being open, probably breaks the circuit. All cleverly planned. But I'm crazy to learn what he is looking for. Double your coat over your white shirt." Breitmann was already proceeding with this task. A dog-trot brought them into the roadway, but they kept to the grass. They were within a yard of the stable doors when a hound began bellowing. Breitmann smothered a laugh and Fitzgerald a curse. "The quicker we get back to the cellar the better," was the former's observation. And they returned at a clip, scrambling into the cellar as quickly and silently as they could, and made for the upper floors. "Come into my room," said Fitzgerald; "it's only midnight." Breitmann agreed. If he had any reluctance, he did not show it. Fitzgerald produced cigars. "Do my clothes look anything like yours?" asked Breitmann dryly, striking a match. "Possibly." They looked themselves over for any real damage. There were no rents, but there were cobwebs on the wool and streaks of coal dust on the linen. "We shall have to send our clothes to the village tailor. The admiral's valet might think it odd." "Where do you suppose he comes from?" "I don't care where. What's he after, to take all this trouble? Something big, I'll warrant." And then, for a time, they smoked like Turks, in silence. "By George, it's a good joke; you and I trying to choke each other, while the real burglar makes off." "It has some droll sides." "And you all but broke my arm." Breitmann chuckled. "You were making the same move. I was quicker, that was all." Another pause. "The admiral has seen some odd corners. Think of seeing, at close range, the Japanese-Chinese naval fight!" "He tells a story well." "And the daughter is a thoroughbred." "Yes," non-committally. "By the way, I'm going to the Pole in June or August." "The Italian expedition?" "Yes." "That ought to make fine copy. You will not mind if I turn in? A bit sleepy." "Not at all. Shall we tell the admiral?" "The first thing in the morning. Good night." Fitzgerald finished his cigar, and went to bed also. "Interesting old place," wadding a pillow under his ear. "More interesting to-morrow." Some time earlier, the individual who was the cause of this nocturnal exploit hurried down the hill, nursing a pair of skinned palms, and laughing gently to himself. "Checkmate! I shall try the other way."