“No,” Thwaite said, “I didn’t. I was disappointed too. For a big auto purred up to the Pavilion entrance and stood under the porte cochère. But when it spun round the park there was nobody in it, only the chauffeur in front and a pet monkey on the back seat.” “A pet monkey!” I exclaimed. “Yes,” he said. “You know how a dog, a Newfoundland, or a terrier, will sit up in an auto and look grand and superior and enjoy himself? Well, that monkey sat there just like that turning his head one way and the other taking in the view.” “What was he like?” I asked. “Sort of dog-faced ape,” Thwaite told me, “more like a mastiff.” Rivvin grunted. “This isn’t business,” Thwaite went on, “we’ve got to get down to business. The point is the wall is their only guard, there’s no dog, perhaps because of the pet monkey as much as anything else. They lock Mr. Eversleigh up every night with only one valet to take care of him. They never interfere whatever noise they hear or light they see, unless the alarm is sent out and I have located the alarm wires you are to cut. That’s all. Do you go?” Rivvin was sitting close to me, half on me. I could feel his great muscles and the butt of his pistol against my hip. “I come with you,” I said. “Of your own accord?” Thwaite insisted. The butt of that pistol moved as Rivvin breathed. “I come of my own accord,” I said. III Afoot Thwaite led as confidently as he had driven the car. It was the stillest, pitchiest night I ever experienced, without light, air, sound or smell to guide anyone: through that fog Thwaite sped like a man moving about his own bedroom, never for a second at a loss. “Here’s the place,” he said at the wall, and guided my hand to feel the ring-bolt in the grass at its foot. Rivvin made a back for him and I scrambled up on the two. Tip-toe on Thwaite’s shoulders I could just finger the coping. “Stand on my head, you fool!” he whispered. I clutched the coping. Once astraddle of it I let down one end of the silk ladder. “Fast!” breathed Thwaite from below. I drew it taut and went down. The first sweep of my fingers in the grass found the other ring-bolt. I made the ladder fast and gave it the signal twitches. Rivvin came over first, then Thwaite. Through the park he led evenly. When he halted he caught me by the elbow and asked: “Can you see any lights?” “Not a light,” I told him. “Same here,” he said, “there are no lights. Every window is dark. We’re in luck.” He led again for a while. Stopping he said only: “Here’s where you shin up. Cut every wire, but don’t waste time cutting any twice.” The details of his directions were exact. I found every handhold and foothold as he had schooled me. But I needed all my nerve. I realized that no heavyweight like Rivvin or Thwaite could have done it. When I came down I was limp and tottery.