scended, in the darkness, with infinite precautions, waiting and listening after every movement. There was no sound from the kitchen. And when he had lifted the latch and opened the door an inch or two, there was no light to be seen, except the moonlight that came through the kitchen windows. He shut the door behind him, to leave no evidence of his passage in case his retreat were intercepted and he had to hide downstairs. He moved inch by inch towards the closed door of the dining-room. He saw a faint crack of light beneath it.
They were in there, then. If he could get that door open, perhaps he could hear them. He approached it stealthily. He raised his hand to the latch. A low growl checked him.
It was the dog, in the dining-room. It had scented him. It began to bark. Some one called to it from the other end of the house; and Barney fled.
But he did not flee upstairs; that would have
