“You go in, and here's the entrance hall. The front stairs are here. What I'm after is the family plate, and it's up on the second floor. I'll attend to that. The only trouble is that over here beyond the library there's a door, and, somebody sleeps in that room. I don't know who it is. But I want you to stay in the hall, and if there's anyone stirs in that room you're to dart upstairs and give one whistle at the top. Then I'll come.” “And what then?” “This is the second floor,” said Charlie, drawing another square. “And here's the servant's stairway, and we can get down to this entrance in the rear, that I'll open before I set to work. On the other hand, if you hear me whistle upstairs, then you're to get out by the way we came. If there's any alarm given, then it's each for himself.” “I see,” said Samuel; and gripped his hands so that his companion might not see how he was quaking. Charlie got out his kit and examined it to make sure that the police had kept nothing. Then he went to a bureau drawer and got a revolver, examined it and slipped it into his pocket. “They kept my best one,” he said. “So I've none to lend you.” “I--I wouldn't take it, anyway,” stammered the other in horror. “You'll learn,” said the burglar with a smile. Then he sat down again and drew a diagram of the streets of Lockmanville, so that Samuel could find his way back in case of trouble. “We don't want to take any chances,” said he. “And mind, if I get caught, I'll not mention you--wild horses couldn't drag it out of me. And you make the same promise.” “I make it,” said Samuel. “Man to man,” said Charlie solemnly; and Samuel repeated the words. “How did you come to know so much about the house?” he asked after a while. “Oh! I've lived here and I've kept my eyes open. I worked as a plumber's man for a couple of months and I made diagrams.” “But don't the police get to know you?” “Yes--they know me. But I skip out when I've done a job. And when I come back it's in disguise. Once I grew a beard and worked in the glass works all day and did my jobs at night; and again I lived here as a woman.” “A woman!” gasped the boy. “You see,” said the other with a laugh, “there's more ways than one to prove your fitness.” And he went on, narrating some of his adventures--adventures calculated to throw the glamour of romance about the trade of burglar. Samuel listened breathless with wonder. “We'd better get a bit of sleep now,” said Charlie later on. “We'll start about one.” And he stretched himself out on the bed, while the other sat motionless in the chair, pondering hard over his problem. There was no sleeping for Samuel that night. He would carry out his bargain--that was his decision. But he would not take his share of the plunder, except just enough to pay Mrs. Stedman. And he would never be a burglar again!