They had noticed when passing along the cross lane beside the house to which the extension was being made that a gap had been broken in the hedge for the purpose of getting in the building materials. This was closed only by a wooden slat. With one consent they made for the gap, slipped through, and crouching in the shadow of the shrubs within, set themselves to watch Earlswood. No light showed in any of the front windows, and as soon as Miss Merrill was seated on a bundle of brushwood sheltered from the light but rather chilly wind, Cheyne crept out to reconnoiter more closely. Making sure that no one was approaching, he slipped through the hedge, and then crossing both road and lane diagonally, passed down the lane at the side of Earlswood. There was no gap in the Earlswood hedge, but just as in the case of that other similarly situated house which he had investigated, a narrow lane ran along at the bottom of the tiny garden behind. Cheyne turned into this and stood looking at the back of the house. The whole proceeding seemed familiar, a repetition of his actions on the night he traced the gang to Hopefield Avenue. But the back of this house was in darkness, and pushing open a gate, he passed from the lane to the garden and silently approached the building. A path led straight from gate to door, a side door evidently, as the walled-in yard was on his left hand. Another path to the right led round the house to the hall door in the front. Cheyne walked slowly round, examining doors and windows. All of these were fastened and he did not see how without breaking the glass he could force an entrance. But he found a window at the back, the sash of which was loose and easy fitting, and decided that in case of need he would operate on this. Having learned everything he could, he retraced his steps to his companion and they held a whispered consultation. Cheyne was for taking the opportunity of the house being empty to make an attempt then and there to get in. But Miss Merrill would not hear of it. Such a venture, she said, would require very careful thought as well as apparatus which they had not got. “Besides,” she added, “you’ve done enough for one night. Remember you’re not completely well yet.” “Oh, blow my health; I’m perfectly all right,” he whispered back, but he had to admit her other arguments were sound and the two, cautiously emerging from their hiding-place, walked back to Wembley and took the next train to town. She was silent during the journey, but as they reached Baker Street she turned to him and said: “Look here, I believe I’ve got an idea. Bring a long-burning electric torch with you tomorrow afternoon and whatever tools you want to open the window, and perhaps we’ll try our luck.” She would not explain her plan nor would she allow him to accompany her to the studio, so with rather a bad grace he said good night and returned to his hotel.