He tried the door, pushing it gently backward and forward, but it made no sound. “I’ve oiled the hinges,” he explained, “so that it won’t squeak.... I don’t want you to move until I call you. Remember that――whatever you may see me doing. Probably I will shadow him when he is looking round. Of course he won’t try to get in once he spots the light, and it’s when he’s coming back that I’ll cop him. If they’re two of them I dare say I’ll have to let one go.... You needn’t be afraid. If I have to shoot I won’t miss. I know how to use these things, and I’ve had plenty of practice.” Edward made no reply, and the vigil began. But the idea that there might be two burglars――which was a new one so far as Edward was concerned, and horribly plausible――was anything but reassuring. He wondered when Dorset would consider they had done their duty. He could not help believing now that his chum was acting on some positive information, and he wished the whole thing were well over, or that they had Robert and a policeman with them. Through everything he felt a strong admiration for his fellow-watcher. He recognized quite clearly that he was not so brave as Palmer was: all illusions on that score had dissolved like smoke. The only thing left for him to do was to prevent Dorset himself from guessing this, and Edward felt he would die in that attempt. Where his friend led he would follow, even should the very marrow be frozen in his bones.... * * * * * Surely it must be nearly morning! Surely Palmer must have fallen asleep! He hoped that grandpapa had not gone to bed, for somehow there was comfort in the thought of a friendly light burning not so far away. Then a horrible idea occurred to him. Suppose the burglars had been watching all the time and knew they were hidden in the shed: suppose, instead of passing the door, they suddenly crept in upon them in the dark, and with a knife. That wretched knife! Edward shivered and began mournfully to consider which part of his body he should prefer to be stabbed in. Not in the back:――anywhere, he thought, rather than in the back. But presently, like a pendulum, his reflections swung again towards hopefulness. If a burglar had been coming he would have arrived before this. He heard a cock crow in the distance, and the sound was infinitely welcome. He could have blessed that bird. Doubtless, like the Ancient Mariner, he _did_ bless it unawares. The cock crowed three or four times, and then, as no other cock replied, relapsed into silence. Edward decided that he would count up to five hundred slowly, and then suggest that they should return to their room. He had got as far as a hundred and seventy-nine when he felt a hand pressed down on his knee, and started violently. It was far too dark to see anything, but he felt Palmer’s lips brush against his ear, and he heard the whispered words, “Somebody is coming through the wood.”