a moment more, the handle of the parlour door was turned. He rose, in
anticipation of Mrs. Turner's appearance. The door opened. He found
himself face to face with his wife.

VI

John Farnaby, posted at the garden paling, suddenly lifted his head and
looked towards the open window of the back parlour. He reflected for a
moment--and then joined his female companion on the road in front of
the house.

"I want you at the back garden," he said. "Come along!"

"How much longer am I to be kept kicking my heels in this wretched
hole?" the woman asked sulkily.

"As much longer as I please--if you want to go back to London with the
other half of the money." He showed it to her as he spoke. She followed
him without another word.

Arrived at the paling, Farnaby pointed to the window, and to the back
garden door, which was left ajar. "Speak softly," he whispered. "Do you
hear voices in the house?"

"I don't hear what they're talking about, if that's what you mean."

"I don't hear, either. Now mind what I tell you--I have reasons of my
own for getting a little nearer to that window. Sit down under the
paling, so that you can't be seen from the house. If you hear a row,
you may take it for granted that I am found out. In that case, go back