circuit of the sash. The window, he found, was hinged at one side and
opened inward; and now, under the pressure of his steel jimmy, inserted
between the ledge and the lower portion of the frame, it began to yield.

Lying there on the ground, Jimmie Dale, his head close to the opening,
listened with strained attention again. He had not made much noise,
scarcely any--not enough even to have aroused the Magpie if, say, by any
chance, the Magpie were within asleep. The sounds from the floor above
seemed to be louder now, to reach him more distinctly, but from the
basement room itself there was nothing, no sound even of breathing.

Satisfied that the room was unoccupied, Jimmie Dale pushed the window
wide open, and peered in. It was like looking into some dark cavernous
hole, and he could not distinguish a single object. Then his hand
slipped into his pocket for his flashlight, and the round, white ray
shot downward and around the place. The floor of the room was perhaps
five feet below the level of the window sill; to the left, against the
wall, was a bed; there was a chair, a table sadly in need of repair, a
few garments hanging from nails driven haphazardly into the plaster,
and, save for a dirty piece of carpet on the floor, nothing else. The
flashlight played slowly around the room. Opposite the window was the
door, and suspended from the centre of the ceiling was a single
incandescent lamp.

With a sort of grim nod of approval, Jimmie Dale snapped off his
flashlight, and, turning around, worked himself in through the
window feet first, and dropped silently to the floor. He had only to
wait now until the Magpie returned--whether it was a question of
hours or minutes.