“Burglars!”
“What, again?”
“Yes, last night, at my residence.”
Mr. Chester Smith, the wealthy Chicago banker, threw himself into an easy-chair in the office of the chief of police, and looked decidedly ugly.
“What did they get?” asked the chief.
“I’d like to know what they didn’t get,” was the excited reply, “and I was at home every minute of the time, too.”
There was a quiet smile on the chief’s face as he sat looking at his excited friend.
“They entered my house while I was at home,” continued the banker, “ransacked every room in it, took my watch and pocketbook from under my pillow, and my revolver from a table drawer near the bed.”
“You were right in calling them nervy,” said the chief.