He landed silently.
The glare of the street lamp at the corner struck the warehouse, and this indirect light was sufficient to work by.

He made the trap after a series of extra-cautious steps.

The roof was slanting and pebbled, and the least turn of the foot might start a cascade and bell an alarm.

A comfort-loving dress-suiter like himself, playing Old Sleuth, when he ought to be home and in bed! It was all of two-thirty.

What the deuce would he do when there were no more thrills in life?
He stooped and caught hold of a corner of the trap to test it--and drew back with a silent curse.