The merchant was annoyed at the burglar's perspicacity, and he could not think of an effective rejoinder. His visitor advanced to the bureau. The photographs immediately engaged his attention. "Ha!" he exclaimed approvingly. "But it really isn't fair. One, two, three, four. Greedy man!"
"Will you kindly leave my private matters alone?" said the incensed knight. Then, with a sudden inspiration, he made a reckless dash for freedom by grabbing at the telephone handle, turning briskly, and shouting down the receiver, "Help! Thieves! Help!" But before he had called again the burglar had raised his revolver and had severed the connecting wire with a shot. "What an absurd idea," he said. "Why, the operator isn't awake yet."
Sir John sank back into his chair, feeling it was very likely that the burglar would adopt some extremely unpleasant form of revenge for the want of confidence he had just displayed. But his visitor did nothing of the sort. He also seated himself, and addressed the knight in grave reproof.
"If that's a sample of your best business method I'm surprised you've done so well in things," he said. Then without waiting for a reply, "Where do you keep your cigars?"
The merchant stretched out his hand and passed a box to him. The burglar rolled one knowingly between his fingers, then replaced it, and gave the box back.
"I don't care for tenpenny whiffs, Sir John. I want your real cigars—such as you keep for your most eminent visitors—such as you should have offered me, as a matter of course."
With a sigh Sir John rose, unlocked a cabinet, and produced a box marked "Topmann. Sublimes. Habana," which he handed to his visitor.
The burglar examined it carefully before he expressed his satisfaction. Then he took a cigar therefrom, inspected it with marked approval, lit it, and then dropped the box into a capacious pocket.
"Those are exceptionally fine cigars," the knight remarked, with a touch of resentment in his voice.