Left to himself, Mr. Fox pursued his way up the attic stairs. They
creaked a little under his weight, and, much to his annoyance, when he
reached the landing at the top he coughed.

"I hope the boy won't hear me," he said to himself.

He paused an instant, then softly opened the door of Harry's chamber.

All seemed satisfactory. Our hero was lying quietly in bed, apparently
in a peaceful sleep. Ordinarily he would have been fast asleep by this
time, but the expectation of a visit from his guardian had kept him
awake beyond his usual time. He had heard Mr. Fox cough, and so, even
before the door opened, he had warning of the visit.

Harry was not a nervous boy, and had such command of himself, that,
even when Mr. Fox bent over, and, by the light of the candle, examined
his face, he never stirred nor winked, though he very much wanted to
laugh.

"All is safe! The boy is sound asleep," whispered Mr. Fox to himself.

He set the candle on the floor, and then taking up Harry's pantaloons,
thrust his hand into the pocket.

The very first pocket contained the pocketbook which our hero had put
there. Mr. Fox would have opened and examined the contents on the
spot, but he heard a cough from the bed, and, quickly put the
pocketbook into his own pocket, apprehending that his ward might wake
up, and taking up the candle, noiselessly withdrew from the chamber.