"You are trying to be. I know. But you didn't ought to burgle.

You are not the man to burgle. You are, if I may say it--the thing

will have been pointed out to you before--a coward."



"Do you know," said Mr. Ledbetter, trying to get a final opening,

"it was that very question--"



The stout man waved him into silence.



"You waste your education in burglary. You should do one of two

things. Either you should forge or you should embezzle. For my

own part, I embezzle. Yes; I embezzle. What do you think a man

could be doing with all this gold but that? Ah! Listen! Midnight! . . .

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. There is something very impressive to me

in that slow beating of the hours. Time--space; what mysteries

they are! What mysteries. . . . It's time for us to be moving.

Stand up!"



And then kindly, but firmly, he induced Mr. Ledbetter to sling the

dressing bag over his back by a string across his chest, to shoulder

the trunk, and, overruling a gasping protest, to take the Gladstone

bag in his disengaged hand. So encumbered, Mr. Ledbetter struggled

perilously downstairs. The stout gentleman followed with an overcoat,

the hatbox, and the revolver, making derogatory remarks about Mr.

Ledbetter's strength, and assisting him at the turnings of the stairs.



"The back door," he directed, and Mr. Ledbetter staggered through

a conservatory, leaving a wake of smashed flower-pots behind him.

"Never mind the crockery," said the stout man; "it's good for trade.

We wait here until a quarter past. You can put those things down. You

have!"



Mr. Ledbetter collapsed panting on the trunk. "Last night," he gasped,

"I was asleep in my little room, and I no more dreamt--"



"There's no need for you to incriminate yourself," said the stout

gentleman, looking at the lock of the revolver. He began to hum.

Mr. Ledbetter made to speak, and thought better of it.



There presently came the sound of a bell, and Mr. Ledbetter was

taken to the back door and instructed to open it. A fair-haired man

in yachting costume entered. At the sight of Mr. Ledbetter he started

violently and clapped his hand behind him. Then he saw the stout

man. "Bingham!" he cried, "who's this?"



"Only a little philanthropic do of mine--burglar I'm trying to reform.

Caught him under my bed just now. He's all right. He's a frightful

ass. He'll be useful to carry some of our things."



The newcomer seemed inclined to resent Mr. Ledbetter's presence



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