the butler's bedroom, and the strong-room, where the plate lay.
On the upper floor a long gallery full of pictures ran from end to
end, with a line of doors on the southern side, all opening into
bedrooms, except one which led to the back-stairs.

Now, properly speaking, the strong-room was no strong-room at all.
It had an ordinary deal door and an ordinary country-made lock.
But in some ways it was very strong indeed. The only approach to it
on the ground-floor lay through the butler's bedroom, of which you
might call it but a cupboard. It had no window, and could not
therefore be attacked from outside. The very small amount of light
that entered it filtered through a pane of glass in the wall of the
back-staircase, which ran up close behind.

I have said enough, I hope, for any reflective man to draw the
conclusion that, since we desired no unpleasantness with the butler
(a man between fifty and sixty, and notoriously incorruptible), our
only plan was to make an entrance upstairs by the long window at the
end of the picture gallery or corridor--whichever you choose to call
it--descend the back-stairs, remove the pane of glass from the wall,
and gain the strong-room through the opening.

The house was dark from end to end, and the stable clock had just
chimed the quarter after midnight, when I went up the ladder.
I never looked for much carefulness in this honest country household,
but I did expect to spend twenty minutes on the heavy lead-work of
the lower panes, and it seemed as good as a miracle to find the
lattice unlatched and opening to the first gentle pull. I pressed it
back; hitched it under a stem of ivy that the wind might not slam it
after me; and, signalling down to Jimmy at the foot of the ladder to