Presently he stopped and took a black silk handkerchief from his pocket, and this he pinned to the lapels of his dinner jacket. It erased the white blur of his shirt and made him practically invisible. A second black silk handkerchief, folded diagonally, he tied about the lower part of his face. A six-foot wall barred his way. He scaled it like a cat, and dropped nimbly on the springy turf on the other side. The house stood back from the road, in darkness. Storm was in the back garden, the high walls that enclosed it screening him effectively from the view of any possible outside watchers. He stole along in the shadow they cast. A car passed with a hoot and a blare as the latch of a window clicked open under his expert manipulation, and as the splutter of the car died away he raised the sash soundlessly and slipped over the sill. Inside, the blackness was intense, with a tangible quality to it that was numbing to the senses. Myriads of silver specks whirled before the eyes in protest against the strain of attempted vision. The utter opacity was tactile, half fluid, like a fog. He crept through the room with a feline assurance, uncannily avoiding chairs and tables, crossed the hall, and opened a door on the far side, closing it behind him. Then he went over to the window and passed his sensitive fingers delicately over every inch of it, even as he had done to that by which he had entered--a touch light enough to stroke a butterfly's wing unfelt. Satisfied that there were no alarms fitted, he pressed back the catch and opened the window to its fullest extent, after which he drew the heavy curtains. A beam of light stabbed the darkness, flickered over every part of the room, and rested at length on a Sheraton cabinet. Unhurriedly he made his preparations. From an inside pocket he took a paper bag from which he scattered a coarse powder over the exposed parquet by the door, so that anyone attempting to enter would be bound to step on it. Next came a slim wallet of morocco leather which, laid open on the floor beside the cabinet, gleamed with the silvery sheen of fine steel tools. Lastly, he drew from his hip pocket an automatic pistol, and this he also laid on the floor beside him. The cabinet hid a small safe of the most modern type, built like a battleship, yet he tackled it confidently. Patiently and skillfully he worked, and at last he had a rubber cup fixed securely to the metal about the lock. Into this he poured a viscid liquid from a rubber bottle, which he handled gingerly. Then he sat back on his heels, while the concentrated acid bubbled against the steel and gave off a heavy, pungent vapour. Exactly three hours after he had entered the house the door of the safe hung open, disclosing rows and rows of documents tied in bundles of various sizes, neatly arranged on the metal shelves. Holding the electric lamp between his knees so that its rays fell towards the floor, he ran through the packets rapidly.