Café de Nuit

--or is he surprised by another risky bit of archery?--

She slips in through the open window and rolls from the table to the floor, soft as a cat flopping from a cushion. Then, slides under the table, making herself small in the shadows.

The man at the central table stands and turns toward the window she came through.
She can't see his face, because it's blocked from view by the table she hides beneath. But she hears him say,
''Wind blew open the window.''
He walks over to the edge of her hiding spot. Leans.
She hears shutters rattle. A click like the noise the latch made when she popped it open.

The man hustles back toward the larger table in the middle of the room.

Another robber, out of her view on the far side of the fireplace, says in a high whisper,
''We'd better grab the loot and get down the cellar. I think those nutters really mean to burn us out.''

Footsteps sound from elsewhere in the house, and dragging noises.

see heat coming from bodies and from a very small fire--too small to spoil their special vision. A candle, maybe. Or a slow match. Something that size).