Thereupon the ladies picked up courage and stepped further into the room.
"Did you and David catch them?" asked my aunt; "and how in the world did you do it?"
"I'll tell you all about that another time," I said, "and you had better go upstairs as soon as you two have seen what sort of people are these cowardly burglars who sneak or break into the houses of respectable people at night, and rob and steal and ruin other people's property with no more conscience or human feeling than is possessed by the rats which steal your corn, or the polecats which kill your chickens."
"I can scarcely believe," said Aunt Martha, "that that young man is a real burglar."
At these words the eyes of the fellow spoken of glowed as he fixed them on Aunt Martha, but he did not say a word, and the paleness which had returned to his face did not change.
"Have they told you who they are?" asked my wife.
"I haven't asked them," I said. "And now don't you think you had better go upstairs?"
"It seems to me," said Aunt Martha, "that those ropes must hurt them."
The tall man now spoke. "Indeed they do, madam," he said in a low voice and very respectful manner, "they are very tight."
I told David to look at all the cords and see if any of them were too tightly drawn.