He
might have fallen sheer into a chasm, or stumbled against the leaden
side of a slant. He descried a lofty construction of carved masonry
with an iron ladder clamped into it, far transcending the net. Not
immediately did he comprehend that it was merely one of the famous
Lechford chimney-stacks looming gigantic in the night. He walked
cautiously onward and came to a precipice and drew back, startled, and
took another pathway at right angles to the first one. Presently
the protective netting stopped, and he was exposed to heaven; he had
reached the roof of the servants' quarters towards the back of the
house.
He stood still and gazed, accustoming himself to the night. The moon
was concealed, but there were patches of dim stars. He could make out,
across the empty Green Park, the huge silhouette of Buckingham Palace,
and beyond that the tower of Westminster Cathedral. To his left he
could see part of a courtyard or small square, with a fore-shortened
black figure, no doubt a policeman, carrying a flash-lamp. The
tree-lined Mall seemed to be utterly deserted. But Piccadilly showed
a line of faint stationary lights and still fainter moving lights.
A mild hum and the sounds of motor-horns and cab-whistles came from
Piccadilly, where people were abroad in ignorance that the raid was
not really over.
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