After having rifled all the rooms of the most valuable articles, he returned to the dining-room.
On the table the remains of supper still stood, consisting of a fowl, hardly touched, some delicately cut bread and butter, cake, and a glass jar containing some fancy crackers.
“I will make myself entirely at home,” he remarked, sitting down to the table, and helping himself to a wing of the chicken.
“Really,” he proceeded, “I have thoroughly enjoyed this evening. Not only have I met a most charming lady, but I have been able to prove to her that the terms gentleman and burglar may be synonomous.”
He now began on the cake. I pushed the cracker jar toward him. “Try them,” I observed.
Still smiling indulgently, and talking, he took out one of the crackers and began to nibble on it. It was very dry.
I rose, and in an absent-minded manner placed on the table the remains of a bottle of rare old Burgundy, which had been opened the day before.
“Now, really,” he prattled, “I'm a very harmless man five months out of six—I never steal unless other means fail, or a tailor's bill comes due. I'm a respectable citizen and—a church member in good standing when I'm not on one of my professional tours. I took up burglary more as a resource than from necessity. Candidly speaking, now, am I a ruffian?”
