just in time to see him ring the bell and get admitted to the
house. I just stopped where I was. It was beginning to rain, and
I was soon pretty near soaked through. Also, it was almighty
cold.

"Whittington didn't come out again, and by and by I got kind of
restive, and began to mouch around. All the ground floor windows
were shuttered tight, but upstairs, on the first floor (it was a
two-storied house) I noticed a window with a light burning and
the curtains not drawn.

"Now, just opposite to that window, there was a tree growing. It
was about thirty foot away from the house, maybe, and I sort of
got it into my head that, if I climbed up that tree, I'd very
likely be able to see into that room. Of course, I knew there
was no reason why Whittington should be in that room rather than
in any other--less reason, in fact, for the betting would be on
his being in one of the reception-rooms downstairs. But I guess
I'd got the hump from standing so long in the rain, and anything
seemed better than going on doing nothing. So I started up.

"It wasn't so easy, by a long chalk! The rain had made the
boughs mighty slippery, and it was all I could do to keep a
foothold, but bit by bit I managed it, until at last there I was
level with the window.

"But then I was disappointed. I was too far to the left. I could
only see sideways into the room. A bit of curtain, and a yard of
wallpaper was all I could command. Well, that wasn't any manner
of good to me, but just as I was going to give it up, and climb