'uns, I shall go and tell."

"But they're not, they're all good," whispered Sam. "Now be off."

"Shee-arn't! I'm goin' to stop and see what you do. But you can't get
in like that. The winders has all got noo fasteners. I could get in if
I liked."

"How?" said Sam, in spite of himself.

"Think I'm goin' to tell you for this," said Pete. "You give me
another, and I'll show you how to get in. I see you come in the wood
and smoke over yonder."

"And you've been watching me ever since?"

"Course I have. What do you want to get?"

Sam made no answer, for he was trying to arrange his thoughts, and make
out what was the best thing to do. Then all at once Pete broke out
with--

"You ain't half a chap. I could soon get in there if I wanted."

"Could you? How?"

"I've been in the mill lots o' times," said Pete evasively, "'fore they
took the stones out, and since old Dicky Brandon pulled the sails off."

"Tell me how you managed it," said Sam, after a glance round; for,
mingled with his uneasy feeling about being betrayed by the great lad
before him, he began to feel desperate, and as if he must succeed now he
had gone so far. He was convinced in his own mind that the most likely
place to find the documents he sought would be in his uncle's study, and
to him the first floor of the old mill was that study. Tom had told him
as much, and that the old walnut-wood bureau was the depository where
their uncle kept his papers.

"People in the country are such idiots," he said to himself; "they never
think of having strongrooms or iron safes. He has locked the papers up
there as sure as a gun."

It was with a certainty of this being the case that he had come down,
and now that there was nothing between him and the prize but a window
and this spying lad, the position was irritating to a degree.

Sam thrust his hand into his pocket, where it came in contact with
half-a-sovereign and some silver, and he began to think that of these he
could perhaps after all make a key. The only question was how to begin.

Pete had uttered a low sniggering laugh on hearing Sam's last question,
and now feeling that he must either act or give up; the latter repeated
his inquiry.

"I used to have some bantams," replied the young scoundrel. "Bantams
like wheat and barley."

"And you used to come and steal some for them?" said Sam sharply.

"Oh, did I? Who said anything about stealing? I didn't eat the barley;
the bantams