"You mean old Ninety-One, as he calls hisself," interrupted Blossom—"Well, I guess I do."
"Very good," continued the Colonel.—"Now suppose this ruffian had concealed himself in the house of a wealthy man, with the purpose of committing a robbery this very night!"
Blossom was all ears.
"Well, well,—drive ahead. Suppose,—suppose,"—he said impatiently.
"Not so fast. Suppose, further, that a gentleman who had overheard this villain plotting this purposed crime, was to give you full information in regard to the affair, could you,—could you,—when called upon to give evidence before the court, forget the name of this gentleman?"
"I'd know no more of him than an unborn baby," eagerly whispered Blossom.
"Hold a moment. This gentleman overhears the plot, in the room of a certain house, not used as a church, precisely. The gentleman does not wish to be known as a visitor to that house,—you comprehend? But in that house, he happens to hear the ruffian and his young comrade planning this robbery. Himself unseen, he hears their whole conversation. He finds out that they intend to enter the house where the robbery is to take place, by a false key and a back stairway. Now—"
"You want to know, in straight-for'ard talk," interrupted Blossom, "whether, when the case comes to trial, I could remember having overheard the convict and the young 'un mesself? There's my hand on it, Curnel. Just set me on the track, and you'll find that I'll never say one word about you. Beside, I was arter these two covies this very night,—I seed 'em with my own eyes, in the garret of the Yellow Mug."
"You did!" cried the Colonel, with an accent of undisguised satisfaction. "Then possibly you may remember that you overheard them planning this burglary, as you listened behind the garret door?"
"Of course I can," replied Blossom, "I remember it quite plain. Jist tell me the number of the house that is to be robbed, and I'll show you fireworks."