"Well, sir, we of the profession never interferes with gentlemanly jobs, sir. All I want of you is to help me out of here."
"I am not a burglar."
"Oh, I understand, sir; I understand completely. A gentleman is always a gentleman, sir. Now, you can return to that coal-bin. I was just about to make for it when you lit that candle."
"Why not leave by the cellar-doors?"
"I have my reasons, sir; most satisfactory reasons, sir. I prefer the window. Get along!"—his tones suddenly hardening.
I got along.
"The lady may sit down, sir," he said courteously.
"Thank you, I will," replied the girl, plumping down on an empty winecase. (She afterward confessed that if she had not sat down on the box, she would have sat down on the cellar-floor, as a sort of paralysis had seized her knees.)
I stepped into the coal-bin, and rested the candle on the little shelf for that purpose. I was downright anxious to see the fellow safely away. There wasn't room in that cellar for the three of us. His presence doubly endangered us and multiplied the complications. I was in no position to force the gems from him. A man who has ten thousand dollars' worth of jewels on his person doesn't stop at shooting; and I possessed a healthy regard for my skin. I opened the window and caught it to the ceiling by a hook I found there.
"There is a stout screen, my man."