I was quite exhausted by the effort (unaccustomed as I was to such burglarious enterprises) and my fingers were torn and bleeding from forcing a hold between the iron work and the wire screen.

I remembered the gravel pathway, overgrown with grass, that led from the big gate to a front door.

I groped about in the darkness until I felt the gravel under my feet.

Then I moved cautiously along it, until I could dimly discern the outlines of the house.

My nerves were so wrought up, while I stood there holding my breath to catch some sound from its gloomy interior, that I was near crying out in abject terror at every step.