The man whom Nell and Falconer had mistaken for Dick passed through the
lodge gates, and, turning to the right, walked quickly, but not
hurriedly, beside the high park fencing, and presently came up with a
dogcart which was being walked slowly along the road.

The cart was a very shabby one, but the horse was a very good one, and
looked as if it could stretch itself if it were required to do so. In
the cart was a young man in clerical attire. He looked like a curate,
and his voice had the regulation drawl as he leaned down and asked: "Well, Ted?"

The man addressed as Ted shook his head.

"The girl was right," he said, with an air of disappointment. "She's got
'em all on."

"Then it's no use trying it to-night," said the curate. "Perhaps a
little later? It must be darkish for some time."

Ted shook his head again.

"No use! Too risky. It will be hours before they all go to bed and the
house is quiet; the servants always keep it up after a big affair like
this; some of 'em won't go to bed at all, perhaps. Besides, I was
spotted just now."

The Parson, as he was called by the burgling fraternity, of which he and
Ted were distinguished members, swore under his breath.

"How was that?" he asked.