Apart from a few silver trinkets, the only things of interest to the burglar were two Aboriginal Dream-Time paintings by celebrated Australian artist Ainslie Roberts: “The Burgin Gin” (which showed a full sized Aboriginal warrior being attacked by half metre tall Aboriginal warriors wielding shining golden spears taller than themselves.   And “Liru and Kunia” which depicted two large serpents fighting in the red sand of the Simpson Desert.

“These should fetch a nice commission,” said Richie at a whisper.   He knew at least two or three private collectors who were desperate for Ainslie Roberts works and were not concerned how they acquired them.

After carefully checking for alarm presses on the wall behind the paintings (for fear they might be separate to the main alarm that he had already deactivated), Richie carefully removed the first painting.   Instead of cutting the painting from the frame and damaging it (thus reducing its value), he carefully removed the painting from the frame, then reached into the sack he was carrying and removed a long postal cylinder.   He carefully rolled up the painting and slid it into the cylinder, then placed the cylinder into his sack.   Then he removed the second painting and repeated the procedure.

Although not usually nervous, Richie had been on edge ever since entering the French windows.   Feeling a cold chill run down his spine, he considered departing with the two paintings.   Though not worth a fortune, they would each fetch a few thousand dollars.   “And maybe I can come back in a few months … once I’ve got my nerves back!”   But logic told him that it would be ten times harder to enter the manor house next time.   “Once they find the paintings gone the security system will be revamped to blazes!”

So, with icy fingers playing his spine like a xylophone, Richie started across to the door to the corridor.

Outside he lingered for a moment.   His eyes had adjusted to the feeble beam thrown by the penlight.   So there was less chance of him stumbling into furniture.   Still, logic (and icy tendrils of fear gripping his heart) told him it was best to take no chances.   So, he started slowly down the wide corridor, stopping at the next door.