The Count felt his heart beat more rapidly. However hardened a man be against danger, nay, however invincible he be on account of magical objects, he always understands, by the palpitation of his heart, the difference between dream and reality, between project and execution, between having one’s pipe in one’s pack and having leaf.
Through the opening in the window, an arm passed searching for the catch; a second later, the window turned on its hinges, and a hobbite entered. The hobbite was alone.
"Voilà a hardy rogue," murmured the Count. But Gali pointed to the window of the room wherein they were concealed, and which gave onto the road. There Monte Fato saw an ent-balrogue mounted on the Stone of Three Centimes, who seemed to be studying what happened in the palais.
"Bon!" he said. "They are two: one acts, the other watches."
The glass-cutter had entered and found his bearings, and had begun to open the secretary with a skeleton key like that employed by Bilbon in relieving Colonel de Smaugue of his convertible debentures and short-term municipals.
"Ah! Ah!" murmured Monte Fato with a smile of disappointment. "It’s only a robber."
