Poor Pax now saw that nothing more could be done. He therefore made a virtue of necessity, and revealed as much of the object of his mission as he deemed prudent. The man believed him, and, on his promising to keep perfectly still, released him from his deadly grip. While the policeman and the boy lay thus biding their time in the shrubbery, Bones got over the wall and quietly inspected the premises. "I'll let him begin, and take him in the act," whispered the policeman. "But he's an awful big, strong, determined feller," said Pax. "So am I," returned the policeman, with a smile, which was lost in the dark. Now it so happened that Miss Lillycrop, who had been spending that day with Miss Stivergill, had been induced to spend the night also with her friend. Of course these two had much to talk about--ladies generally have in such circumstances--and they were later than usual in going to bed. Mr Bones was therefore, much against his will, obliged to delay the execution of his plans. Little dreaming that two admirers lay in ambush about fifty yards off, he retired to a dark corner behind a bit of old wall, and there, appropriately screened by a laurel bush, lit his pipe and enjoyed himself. "My dear," said Miss Stivergill to her friend about midnight, "we must go to bed. Do you go up to my room; I'll follow after looking round." It was the nightly practice of this lady to go over her premises from cellar to garret, to make quite sure that the servant had fastened every bolt and bar and lock. She began with the cellars. Finding everything right there, she went to the dining-room windows. "Ha! the gipsy!--unbolted, and the shutters open!" exclaimed Miss Stivergill, fastening the bolt. "H'm! The old fool," thought the burglar, observing her tall square figure while thus engaged, "might as well bolt the door of Newgate with a steel pen. Cottage window-gear is meant for show, not for service, old girl." "I look round regularly every night," observed Miss Stivergill, entering her bedroom, in which Miss Lillycrop usually occupied a chair bed when on a visit to The Rosebud. "You've no idea how careless servants are (`Haven't I, just?' thought her friend), and although I have no personal fear of burglars, I deem it advisable to interpose some impediments to their entrance." "But what would you do if they did get in?" asked Miss Lillycrop, in some anxiety, for she had a very strong personal fear of burglars. "Oh! I have several little plans for their reception," replied the lady, with a quiet smile. There's a bell in the corner there, which was meant for the parish church, but was thought to be a little too small. I bought it, had a handle affixed to it, as you see, and should ring it at an open window if the house were attempted. "But they might rush in at the door and stop you--kill you even!" suggested the other, with a shudder.