He waited awhile and then went up the verandah's four wooden steps, taking care not to tread on the empty frames of abandoned deckchairs and the pieces of a garden swing. This time, he had driven past the main gates and followed the road that led around the high brick wall to a point that, he hoped, was nearer the house itself, He had parked the car in the shadow of the overhanging trees on the opposite side of the road, and he left the keys in the ignition in case he needed to make a quick getaway.ĭucking low, he ran across the open lawn until he reached the verandah. He pushed his way through a tangled screen of bushes, and found himself on the very edge of the copse, with a wide stretch of lawn between him and the Semple mansion. Maybe if he was- quiet enough he wouldn't wake them. There was still- no sign of the dogs, and he wondered if they were asleep. It took him ten minutes to make his way through the scrubby copse that led towards the house. Once he reached the bottom he paused again, his ears pricked up, hiding as deeply as he could in the dart shadow of the wall and the trees. Then he gently slithered off the top, swinging down to the ground with his feet scraping on the brick.
When the rope was wound in, he positioned the aluminum rod on the other side of the spikes, and let the rope down on the Semple side of the wall. There was an aluminum rod tied to the end of the rope, and he hoped to toss this over the wall and tug it back until it was firmly wedged between the metal spikes. He unwound a knotted nylon rope from his waist, and stepped back so that he could judge the height of the old, moss-crusted bricks. Quickly, he padded across the narrow road, trod softly through the banked-up leaves against the wall, and paused. He listened again, holding his breath, but the Semple estate was silent. Low clouds were still obscuring the moon, and he had to blink a few times to accustom his eyes to the darkness.
breath steamed as he climbed out of the car and gently clicked the door shut behind him.
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