At length the night of the burglary arrives. The date has been carefully set. You may be sure that there is not a full moon to illuminate the grounds, as he has consulted the almanac. If there is a watchdog, the burglar carries ample means to quiet him, in the shape of a small bottle of chloroform. He and his pal (for most of these burglars work in pairs) rapidly effect their entrance in accordance with their plan. Usually one man is stationed outside to give warning by means of a peculiar whistle or other sound in case detection is to be feared.

To a professional cracksman, the ordinary locks of doors, the ordinary window fastenings and safety arrangements that the householder attends to so carefully every night offer but little or no obstacle. When the time comes for him to enter, he enters as quietly and quickly as though he were the master himself—in fact, very much more quietly. Once inside, his glimmering electric dark lantern, which can be hooded in an instant, gives him sufficient light to move with noiseless rubber-soled shoes to the different apartments. The absolute silence in which a professional cracksman can go through a house, avoiding creaking doors and escaping every loose board that may betray his presence, is astonishing. Many a householder has awakened in the morning to find his house rifled who would deem it impossible for anyone to enter his house, much less his room, without immediately arousing him.