There, in the opening of the shutters, within reach of my arm, was
standing a woman with a small coil of wax taper burning in her hand. She
was tall and straight and slender, with a beautiful white face that
might have been cut out of clear marble, but her hair and eyes were as
black as night. She was dressed in some sort of white dressing-gown
which flowed down to her feet, and what with this robe and what with her
face, it seemed as if a spirit from above was standing in front of me. My knees knocked together, and I held on to the shutter with one hand to
give me support. I should have turned and run away if I had had the
strength, but I could only just stand and stare at her. She soon brought me back to myself once more. “Don’t be frightened!” said she, and they were strange words for the
mistress of a house to have to use to a burglar. “I saw you out of my
bedroom window when you were hiding under those trees, so I slipped
downstairs, and then I heard you at the window. I should have opened it
for you if you had waited, but you managed it yourself just as I came
up.”

I still held in my hand the long clasp-knife with which I had opened the
shutter. I was unshaven and grimed from a week on the roads. Altogether,
there are few people who would have cared to face me alone at one in the
morning; but this woman, if I had been her lover meeting her by
appointment, could not have looked upon me with a more welcoming eye. She laid her hand upon my sleeve and drew me into the room. “What’s the meaning of this, ma’am? Don’t get trying any little games
upon me,” said I, in my roughest way—and I can put it on rough when I
like. “It’ll be the worse for you if you play me any trick,” I added,
showing her my knife. “I will play you no trick,” said she. “On the contrary, I am your
friend, and I wish to help you.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I find it hard to believe that,” said I. “Why
should you wish to help me?”

“I have my own reasons,” said she; and then suddenly, with those black
eyes blazing out of her white face: “It’s because I hate him, hate him,
hate him! Now you understand.”

I remembered what the landlord had told me, and I did understand. I
looked at her Ladyship’s face, and I knew that I could trust her. She
wanted to revenge herself upon her husband. She wanted to hit him where
it would hurt him most—upon the pocket. She hated him so that she would
even lower her pride to take such a man as me into her confidence if she
could gain her end by doing so. I’ve hated some folk in my time, but I
don’t think I ever understood what hate was until I saw that woman’s
face in the light of the taper. “You’ll trust me now?” said she, with another coaxing touch upon my
sleeve. “Yes, your Ladyship.”

“You know me, then?”

“I can guess who you are.”

“I daresay my wrongs are the talk of the county. But what does he care
for that? He only cares for one thing in the whole world, and that you
can take from him this night. Have you a bag?”

“No, your Ladyship.”

“Shut the shutter behind you. Then no one can see the light. You are
quite safe. The servants all sleep in the other wing. I can show you
where all the most valuable things are. You cannot carry them all, so we
must pick the best.”

The room in which I found myself was long and low, with many rugs and
skins scattered about on a polished wood floor. Small cases stood here
and there, and the walls were decorated with spears and swords and
paddles, and other things which find their way into museums. There were
some queer clothes, too, which had been brought from savage countries,
and the lady took down a large leather sack-bag from among them. “This sleeping-sack will do,” said she. “Now come with me and I will
show you where the medals are.”

It was like a dream to me to think that this tall, white woman was the
lady of the house, and that she was lending me a hand to rob her own
home. I could have burst out laughing at the thought of it, and yet
there was something in that pale face of hers which stopped my laughter
and turned me cold and serious. She swept on in front of me like a
spirit, with the green taper in her hand, and I walked behind with my
sack until we came to a door at the end of this museum. It was locked,
but the key was in it, and she led me through. The room beyond was a small one, hung all round with curtains which had
pictures on them. It was the hunting of a deer that was painted on it,
as I remember, and in the flicker of that light you’d have sworn that
the dogs and the horses were streaming round the walls. The only other
thing in the room was a row of cases made of walnut, with brass
ornaments. They had glass tops, and beneath this glass I saw the long
lines of those gold medals, some of them as big as a plate and half an
inch thick, all resting upon red velvet and glowing and gleaming in the
darkness. My fingers were just itching to be at them, and I slipped my
knife under the lock of one of the cases to wrench it open. “Wait a moment,” said she, laying her hand upon my arm. “You might do
better than this.”

“I am very well satisfied, ma’am,” said I, “and much obliged to your
Ladyship for kind assistance.”

“You can do better,” she repeated. “Would not golden sovereigns be worth
more to you than these things?”

“Why, yes,” said I. “That’s best of all.”

“Well,” said she. “He sleeps just above our head. It is but one short
staircase. There is a tin box with money enough to fill this bag under
his bed.”

“How can I get it without waking him?”

“What matter if he does wake?” She looked very hard at me as she spoke. “You could keep him from calling out.”

“No, no, ma’am, I’ll have none of that.”

“Just as you like,” said she. “I thought that you were a stout-hearted
sort of man by your appearance, but I see that I made a mistake. If you
are afraid to run the risk of one old man, then of course you cannot
have the gold which is under his bed. You are the best judge of your own
business, but I should think that you would do better at some other
trade.”

“I’ll not have murder on my conscience.”

“You could overpower him without harming him. I never said anything of
murder. The money lies under the bed. But if you are faint-hearted, it
is better that you should not attempt it.”

She worked upon me so, partly with her scorn and partly with this money
that she held before my eyes, that I believe I should have yielded and
taken my chances upstairs, had it not been that I saw her eyes following
the struggle within me in such a crafty, malignant fashion, that it was
evident she was bent upon making me the tool of her revenge, and that
she would leave me no choice but to do the old man an injury or to be
captured by him. She felt suddenly that she was giving herself away, and
she changed her face to a kindly, friendly smile, but it was too late,
for I had had my warning. “I will not go upstairs,” said I. “I have all I want here.”

She looked her contempt at me, and there never was a face which could
look it plainer.