or this particular job; hence
his ignorance as to his partner's fate.

But this burglar was not a man to be easily balked in his purpose.

"Ned must be ill, or got a haccident o' some sort," he said to a very
little but sharp boy who was to assist in the job. "Howsever, you an'
me'll go at it alone, Sniveller."

"Wery good, Bunky," replied Sniveller, "'ow is it to be? By the winder,
through the door, down the chimbly, up the spout--or wot?"

"The larder windy, my boy."

"Sorry for that," said Sniveller.

"Why?"

"'Cause it _is_ so 'ard to go past the nice things an' smell 'em all
without darin' to touch 'em till I lets you in. Couldn't you let me
'ave a feed first?"

"Unpossible," said the burglar.

"Wery good," returned the boy, with a sigh of resignation.

Now, while these two were whispering to each other in a box of an
adjoining tavern, three police-constables were making themselves at home
in the premises of Sir Richard Brandon. One of these was Number 666.

It is not quite certain, even to this day, how and where these men were
stationed, for their proceedings--though not deeds of evil--were done in
the dark, at least in darkness which was rendered visible only now and
then by bull's-eye lanterns. The only thing that was absolutely clear
to the butler, Mr Thomas Balls, was, that the mansion was given over
entirely to the triumvirate to be dealt with as they thought fit.

Of course they did not know when the burglars would come, nor the
particular point of the mansion where the assault would be delivered;
therefore Number 666 laid his plans like a wise general, posted his
troops where there was most likelihood of their being required, and kept
himself in reserve for contingencies.

About that "wee short hour" of which the poet Burns writes, a small boy
was lifted by a large man to the sill of the small window which lighted
Sir Richard Brandon's pantry. To the surprise of the small boy, he
found the window unfastened.

"They've bin an' forgot it!" he whispered.

"Git in," was the curt reply.

Sniveller got in, dropped to his extreme length from the sill, let go
his hold, and came down lightly on the floor--not so lightly, however,
but that a wooden stool placed there was overturned, and, falling
against a blue plate, broke it with a crash.

Sniveller became as one petrified, and remained so for a considerable
time, till he imagined all danger from sleepers having been awakened was
over.