Jimmie now appreciated that when he determined it was best he should work without an accomplice he was most wise.  He must work alone and, lest the clairvoyant had set the police after him, at once.  He decided swiftly that that night he would return to his own house, and that he would return as a burglar.  From its hiding-place he would rescue the missing will and restore it to the safe.  By placing it among papers of little importance he hoped to persuade those who already had searched the safe that through their own carelessness it had been overlooked.  The next morning, when once more it was where the proper persons could find it, he would again take ship for foreign parts.  Jimmie recognized that this was a desperate plan, but the situation was desperate.

And so midnight found him entering the grounds upon which he never again had hoped to place his foot.

The conditions were in his favor.  The night was warm, which meant windows would be left open; few stars were shining, and as he tiptoed across the lawn the trees and bushes wrapped him in shadows.  Inside the hedge, through which he had forced his way, he had left his shoes, and he moved in silence.  Except that stealing into the house where lay asleep the wife he so dearly loved made a cruel assault upon his feelings, the adventure presented no difficulties.  Of ways of entering his house Jimmie knew a dozen, and, once inside, from cellar to attic he could move blindfolded.  His bedroom, where was the copy of “Pickwick” in which he had placed the will, was separated from his wife’s bedroom by her boudoir.  The walls were thick; through them no ordinary sound could penetrate, and, unless since his departure Jeanne had moved her maid or some other chaperon into his bedroom, he could ransack it at his leisure.  The safe in which he would replace the will was in the dining-room.  From the sleeping-quarters of Preston, the butler, and the other servants it was far removed.

Cautiously in the black shadows of the trees Jimmie reconnoitred.  All that was in evidence reassured him.  The old farmhouse lay sunk in slumber, and, though in the lower hall a lamp burned, Jimmie knew it was lit only that, in case of fire or of an intruder like himself, it might show the way to the telephone.  For a moment a lace curtain fluttering at an open window startled him, but in an instant he was reassured, and had determined through that window to make his entrance.  He stepped out of the shadows toward the veranda, and at once something warm brushed his leg, something moist touched his hand.

Huang Su, his black chow, was welcoming him home.  In a sudden access of fright and pleasure Jimmie dropped to his knees.  He had not known he had been so lonely.  He smothered the black bear in his hands.  Huang Su withdrew hastily.  The dignity of his breed forbade man-handling, and at a safe distance he stretched himself nervously and yawned.