THE DARK FIGURE OF A MAN
crawling stealthily along the veranda and enter through an open window, and in a few minutes a faint light shone out. Fortunately I could hear in the distance a footstep which I rightly judged was the policeman on the other beat. I went up a block, called him, and the two of us returned to the scene of operations. After consultation I put my comrade to watch the window while I went round the house. I found a room on the ground floor dimly lit. I tapped on the window and in almost a moment I heard a man get out of bed and come to the window. It was the man of the house. He recognized me at once. I whispered to him that I had seen a man climbing through one of his up-stair windows. He never said a word, but beckoned me round to the front of the house and let me in. I told him what part of the house it was in, and we went softly up stairs. We could hear no noise nor did we meet anyone. We went in softly through a long corridor, and descending three steps entered what I took to be the servants’ quarters. Suddenly my companion touched me on the arm and pointed to a strip of light under a door. We both came closer, and could hear a whispering inside. I asked him if I would burst the door, and he nodded. I drew back as far as I could, and then launched myself with all my force against the door, which gave way easily, and we both sprang into the room.”
“Did you catch the burglar?” I inquired, as the policeman started to wipe his lips and look up at the sky.
“You bet we did. He was easy caught. In fact, he and the housemaid were—well, this is a queer world.