Cheyne stared in amazement, but soon realizing that his time might be short, he silently removed the drawing pins, folded the tracing and thrust it into his pocket. Then turning to the camera, he withdrew the dark slide, opened first one and then the other of its shutters, closed them again and replaced it in the camera. A few seconds sufficed to open and close the shutters of the other slide lying on the table. With a hurried glance round to make sure that no other paper was lying about which might also have formed part of the contents of Price’s envelope, he tiptoed back to the window and prepared to make his escape. But as he laid his hand on the blind he was halted by a sound from below. Someone had opened what was evidently the back door of the house and had stepped out on the ground below the window. Then Sime’s voice came, grumbling and muffled: “Where the blazes do you keep the darned stuff? How can I find it in the dark?” There was a moment’s pause, then in a changed voice a sudden sharp call of “Here, James! Look here quickly! What’s this?” He had seen the ladder! Cheyne realized that his retreat was cut off! A sudden tumult arose downstairs. Hasty feet ran towards the garden and voices spoke low and hurriedly beneath the window. Cheyne saw that his only hope lay in instant action. He silently hurried across the room, tore the door open and ran to the head of the stairs. His hope was that he might slip down and out of the door while the others were still at the back of the house. But he was just too late. As he reached the stairs he heard steps approaching the hall below. His retreat was cut off in this direction also. There remained only one thing to do and he did it almost without thought. Opening the next door to that of the sitting room, he stepped noiselessly inside, closing the door save for a narrow chink through which he could hear and see what was happening. Two of the men had raced up to the sitting room, and peeping out, Cheyne saw that they were Blessington and Sime. In a moment they were out again and running down, shouting: “It’s gone, James! The tracing’s gone!” Sounds indicative of surprise and consternation arose from below, but Cheyne could no longer hear the words. Then through the window, which also looked out over the garden, he heard Dangle’s voice: “Keep guard of the house, Susan and Blessington. Come with me, Sime,” and the sound of two pairs of feet rushing away towards the lane. Instinctively Cheyne realized that his chance had come. It was now or never. If he could not escape while two of the conspirators were away, he would have no chance when all four were present.