At eleven o’clock that night we slipped down the canal, Klein at the bow and myself at the stern. Fortunately it was a dark night, with a thin fog, and we moved silently and unchallenged to our destination. Klein had made a very careful survey of the wharf and he guided the canoe to one of the big supporting piles up which ran a steel-runged ladder. Klein made a reconnaissance. Looking along the wharf, we could see the little glass-windowed hut and the night-watchman standing before a small fire, evidently boiling his kettle. We tied the canoe to the ladder and moved noiselessly across the wharf. The factory was in darkness, but we had no difficulty in discovering the records office, a small, dark building thrown out as an annex to the main machinery warehouse. To open the outer door was the work of a few seconds. We entered and closed the door behind us and found ourselves in a little wooden vestibule from which opened yet another door. To my surprise the inner door was not locked but still ajar. Down the centre of the building ran a corridor and from this various doors led to offices. Our objective was the last on the left and quietly we crept forward and reached the door. I gently turned the handle in order to secure a grip and was inserting my skeleton key when I felt the door give. All my nerves were on edge. Things were going much too easy and I pulled my gun and slipped down the safety catch. Now, as I pushed the door gently open I could have sworn I saw the faint reflection of a light, such a reflection as you would expect from the varnished matchboard-lining to the office, if some person had incautiously shown a light for a second. I hesitated on the threshold. The office was in darkness. There was no sound, no sign, and I thought that the light I saw must have been a reflection from one of the street lamps on the other side of the canal, until I remembered that the fog was quite thick enough to veil any of the outside lights. I stepped forward cautiously toward the safe, felt for and found the handle, and had replaced my pistol in my jacket pocket and was feeling for my electric lamp, when Klein whispered fiercely in my ear: “_There’s someone in the room!_” Almost as he spoke we heard a quick rustle and swish, and a figure dimly seen flashed across the room and through the door. At that moment I felt the safe-door swing back in my grasp, and I realized that we had come too late.