The place selected in which to keep my watch had, I imagine, been intended by the builder for a coal-cellar; but from the fact that the walls of thick cement were set around with shelves, partitioned into squares, I concluded that some subsequent tenant had seen fit to turn it into a wine-cellar. One entered from the garden, and passing down a few stone steps, came to a wooden door like that of a coal-cellar or tool-house, opening upon a short passage, the walls of which were evenly cemented. At the end of this passage another door--of iron this time, and fitted with a patent lock--had been added; and, as it did not seem likely that anyone would trouble to protect garden tools or coals by the addition of an extra door, such as one sees in a strong room or on a safe, the presumption was, as I say, that the place had been intended for the storage or the laying down of wine. But whatever its purpose, it made a serviceable sentry-box, for by leaving the two doors open I could command a view of the garden. Seeing by the light of a vesta, which I struck on entering, that a naked gas-jet was fixed to the wall, and finding that the gas was laid on, I lit it for a moment or two while I had time to look round. Had I chosen to keep the inner door shut, I could have left the light burning all night, and with no fear of its gleam being seen from outside. But in that case I could not have kept the necessary eye upon the garden; so, after I had turned an empty champagne case into a somewhat uneasy and uncomfortable seat, I put out the light, and, opening both doors wide, sat down to commence my watch. * * * * * One! Two! Three! "Three o'clock and a wet night!" I said to myself, yawning wearily. "The policeman, whom I've just heard pass, isn't likely to get wet feet, judging by the thickness of the boots he's wearing. I wonder how he manages to walk like that? One might think he did it purposely, to warn the gentle burglar to lie low while law-and-order is passing. First of all comes his heel with a _flick_, and then the flat of his foot with a _flack_, like the double beat of a flail. _Flick-flack, flick-flack, flick-flack!_ "But perhaps I'm blaming the poor man without a cause. It may be that it is only because we hear the policeman's tramp, sounding and echoing on an empty pavement, that we think it peculiar; and possibly my own footfalls could as readily be recognised were they heard at night, when other sounds are still.