“He’s made off over the roofs of those houses,” said one of the police officers. “Impossible!” exclaimed the watchman. “No mortal man could reach them from where we are standing. Oh, no――impossible!” “You don’t know what these fellows can do,” returned the constable. “They’re like cats――they’ve got nine lives.” The speaker flashed his bull’s-eye in all directions, but no burglar was visible. Peace was stretched at full length in the gutter, and the low wall in its front effectually concealed him from observation. But the situation in which he found himself was in no way a pleasant one; but he was as cunning and stealthy in his movements as an old fox. If he attempted to stir, he knew that discovery was certain. He, therefore, remained speechless and motionless. “Have you got such a thing as a ladder?” inquired one of the constables of the watchman. “Yes, there is one in the yard. Why?” “He’s hiding somewhere on the top of yonder houses. We shall nail him yet, if we can get a ladder.” “Come down to the yard at once, if you think that,” said the watchman. “An excellent thought. Come this way.” The speaker and the two policemen retraced their steps, crept through the trap-door, and hastened towards the yard in search of the ladder. Peace heard every word they had spoken, and was thereby apprised of their movements. He waited till he felt assured they had left the roof of the warehouse, then he peeped out from his hiding-place. Not a soul was to be seen. Abutting out from the roofs of the row of houses on which he had so successfully dropped were a number of dormer windows, with lozenge-shaped panes. Peace crept along the gutter upon his hands and knees, and tried the first window he came to. It was fastened. He tried another with the same result. Presently he discerned, at no very great distance off, the faint glimmer of a light from an adjacent window. He made for this at once. He opened it with the greatest care, and crept softly in. A young and pretty servant girl was partly undressed, and was about to retire to rest. She gave utterance to a faint scream as the burglar entered her sleeping chamber, and modestly covered her neck and shoulders, which were bare, with a shawl. “For the love of mercy, how came you here, sir?” she inquired in evident alarm. “My dear young lady,” said Peace, in his most persuasive tones, “do not be alarmed. Take pity on a poor fellow who seeks your protection.” “Protection, you must be some madman, or else――a――a burglar.” “I am neither. At the present moment I am in the depths of trouble. You can save me――you will, I am sure. You have a kind heart――I can see that by your face, which wears on it a sweet expression. Oh, do take pity on me!” He threw himself on his knees before her, and again pleaded in such an eloquent manner that the young woman was touched. She hesitated, not very well knowing what answer to make to such an appeal. “What trouble are you in, then?” said she.