"If you'll promise to keep a secret, and not make a fuss. I'll tell you all. If you go for raisin' a hellabaloo, I'll walk out and leave your jugular to take care of itself."
"I promise, I promise," ejaculated the merchant.
"Then, while you are sittin' in that ere identical chair, there's two crackmen—burglars, you know,—hid up-stairs in your son's room. They're a-waitin' until you put out the lights, and go to sleep, and then,—your cash-box and jugulars the word?—Why, I wouldn't insure your throat for all your fortin."
The merchant prince was seized with a fit of trembling.
"Robbers! in my house! Astounding, a-s-t-o-u-n-d-i-n-g! How did they get in?"
"By your son's night-key, and the front door. You see I was arter these crackmen to-night, and found 'em in a garret of the Yaller Mug. You never patronize the Yaller Mug, do you?"
Mr. Somers nodded "No," with a spasmodic shake of the head.
"Jist afore I pitched into 'em, I listened outside of the garret door, and overheard their plot to conceal themselves in Evelyn's room, until you'd all gone to bed, and then commence operations on your cash-box and jugular. One o' 'em's a convict o' eleven years' standin'. He's been regularly initiated into all the honors of Auburn and Cherry Hill."
"And you arrested them?"
"Do you see this coverlet about my head? That's what I got for attemptin' it. They escaped from the garret, by getting upon the roof, and jumpin' down on a shed. If my calculations are correct, they're up-stairs jist now, preparin' for their campaign on your cash-box and jugular."—