“The what?”
“Indeed, yes, sir. There's one in the house. I was attacked here—right in this here very room. See here, sir, this bag! Just as I opened the window, he kem behind me, sir, threw it over my head, and tried to chloroform me, sir—you can smell it, sir.”
“Yes. All right,” said Hawkins, briefly, with what must have seemed to the man a strange lack of interest.
“You see, sir, whoever the rascal was, he must 'a' known as I intended going out this evening, sir, and that the house would be empty like. So in he sneaks from the roof, bag and all, and waits. And when I kem up the stairs, instead of going out, sir——”
“All right. That'll do. I understand,” muttered Hawkins. “No one threw a bag over you. It was a new—er—sort of burglar alarm—just had it put up to-day.”
“Burglar alarm!” cried the butler, staring at the remnants from which he was slowly extricating himself.
“Yes!” snapped Hawkins. “And don't stand there mumbling over it, William!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Here,” said the inventor, “is a—er—twenty-dollar note. You will immediately forget everything that has happened within the last half hour.”
“Yes, sir,” responded the butler, with a wide smile.