She glanced over her shoulder and halted. The man clearly did not
mean to enter, but had scrambled up to the sill, and balanced himself
there gripping the window-frame and leaning outwards at an angle
which made her giddy. The sill was narrow, too, and sloping.
She caught her breath, not daring to move.

He seemed to hear her, for he answered jocularly: "'Tis to be hoped
the hinges are strong--eh, missy?--or there's an end of William
Wright."

"Do, please, be careful!"

"What's that to you? You hate me bad enough. Look here--send the
child out of the room and give me a push: a little one'd do, and
you'll never get a better chance."

Still she held her breath; and he went on, gazing upwards and
apparently speaking to the eaves.

"Not worth it, I suppose you'll say?--Don't you make too sure.
Now if I can get my fingers over the launder, here--" He worked his
way to the right, to the very edge of the sill, and reached sideways
and upwards, raising himself higher and higher on tip-toe. Hetty
heard a warning grunted from below.

"No use," he announced. "I can't reach it by six inches."

"What are you trying to do?" Hetty asked in a low voice, with a hand
over her heart.