I made further
investigations in the starlight, and even found a trace of my
original white line along the red wall.
But it was not until we had effected our entry through the room
which had been my very own, and made our parlous way across the
lighted landing, to the best bedroom of those days and these, that
I really felt myself a worm. Twin brass bedsteads occupied the
site of the old four-poster from which I had first beheld the
light. The doors were the same; my childish hands had grasped
these very handles. And there was Raffles securing the landing
door with wedge and gimlet, the very second after softly closing
it behind us.
"The other leads into the dressing-room, of course? Then you might
be fixing the outer dressing-room door," he whispered at his work,
"but not the middle one Bunny, unless you want to. The stuff will
be in there, you see, if it isn't in here."
My door was done in a moment, being fitted with a powerful bolt;
but now an aching conscience made me busier than I need have been.
I had raised the rope-ladder after us into my own old room, and
while Raffles wedged his door I lowered the ladder from one of the
best bedroom windows, in order to prepare that way of escape which
was a fundamental feature of his own strategy.
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