"I was just a-goin' to run you in for a burglar."
"Well, you wouldn't have been far wrong," replied Little. "I'm bent on theft."
"Right-oh," said Bindle. "I'm with yer, special or no special. What are yer stealin', if it ain't a rude question?"
"A girl," Little replied.
Bindle whistled significantly.
In the course of the next five minutes Dick Little explained that he was in love with a girl whose people disapproved of him, and she was being kept almost a prisoner in the house in question. At night he was sometimes able to get a few words with her after dinner, she mounting a ladder and talking to him from the top of the garden wall.
"One of these nights," Little concluded, "we're going to make a bolt for it. By Jove!" he suddenly broke off. "You're the very man; you'll help, of course."
"'Elp?" said Bindle; "o' course I'll 'elp. If yer want to be made un'appy that's your affair. If yer wants me to 'elp to make yer un'appy, that's my affair."
At this moment there was a faint whistle from farther down the road.
"I must be off," said Little. "Come round and see me on Sunday, and I'll tell you all about it."