He was sleeping now, his head on his right arm, a sterilized Teddy-bear
clutched firmly in his other hand, with the concentration of one
engaged upon a feat at which he is an expert.
* * * * *
The door opened slowly. A head insinuated itself into the room,
furtively, as if uncertain of its welcome. The door continued to open
and Steve slipped in.
He closed the door as gently as he had opened it, and stood there
glancing about him. A slow grin appeared upon his face, to be succeeded
by an expression of serious resolve. For Steve was anxious.
It was still Steve's intention to remove, steal, purloin, and kidnap
William Bannister that night, but now that the moment had come for
doing it he was nervous.
He was not used to this sort of thing. He was an honest ex-middleweight,
not a burglar; and just now he felt particularly burglarious. The
stillness of the house oppressed him. He had not relished the long wait
between the moment of his apparent departure and that of his entry into
the nursery.
He had acted with simple cunning. He had remained talking pugilism with
Keggs in the pantry till a prodigious yawn from his host had told him
that the time was come for the breaking up of the party. Then, begging
Keggs not to move, as he could find his way out, he had hurried to the
back door, opened and shut it, and darted into hiding.
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