Then the household went to bed, and to sleep, but let it be understood that the small matter, namely that little talk outside Miss Anne’s gate, had set in motion a far more important event, which was yet to happen. Hughie slept with his window open, of course; he was a very light sleeper, indeed he said he could hear the crabs’ toes clatter as they ran out of one pool into another. This statement might have been exaggerated, but the fact remains that he could hear most things; therefore, when he woke up in the night he realized that a noise from outside had been the cause. He lay still and listened for sounds in the house. All was still; also all was dark, because the moon did not rise till early morning, and at present was giving her best moonshine in the day-time. Hughie waited with a sense of growing alertness, and presently slid out of bed, climbed on the window-seat, and looked towards the bay. Soft, velvety darkness, ripple of water, and faint reflected shine on the sea, was all he heard and saw. "Tiresome!" considered Hughie, not reassured by all this peace. He felt trouble afoot. Motionless he sat, as some small wild thing of the jungle; motionless, but alive in every muscle. From the bay came a sudden knock of wood on wood, just the noise a person recognizes who understands boats and would never mistake it for anything else. "Dinghy," thought the Midget, and, without more ado, he slid from his seat and put on some clothes that would not be conspicuous; so careful was he, indeed, that he got out stockings, articles he hated in summer; but bare white legs show in the dark. Presently he was complete. Serge knickers and sweater, blue stockings and sandshoes. Then he opened his door and looked out. No sound, a pitch dark, silent house. Hughie’s mind was intent on the garden door. The big front door was bolted and barred and would make a noise if opened. The back door possessed a terribly stiff key that turned with a shriek. Jeepy would not have it oiled; she would not have it touched for mysterious reasons of her own connected with the possible bad conduct of Patty Ingles! It was a far-fetched idea, but it kept the key rusty, so that was no good. There remained the children’s door, as it had always been called, the door into the garden, just beyond Pamela’s window. It would not do for her to hear. Hughie wanted to do this business entirely off his own bat, so to speak, and of all things he did not wish to have "people making a row", so he hoped the door would not betray him.