"Sir," replied the burglar, "it would grieve me to have to anticipate your own intentions."
Sir John was struck, as much by the melodious voice of the burglar as by his answer. Nevertheless, in his most magisterial voice he demanded: "What are you doing here?"
"Watching an elderly gentleman in an interesting situation."
"You are impertinent!" flared Sir John.
"A thousand pardons. A burglar should, I believe, be merely brutal."
"May I ask what you expect to find here?" continued the merchant. "We rarely keep enough money on the premises to make it worth your while."
"Postage stamps?" insinuated the other.
Sir John ignored the suggestion. "Certainly not enough to make it worth your while. It may be a matter of penal servitude for you."
"You open up a wide philosophic question," said the burglar suavely. "What is worth your while in this world? 'Uneasy is the head that wears a crown.' You seem worried yourself, Sir John—going through your papers at this time o' night, with a loaded pistol by you."