"Close to the farther door was a large, four-fold Japanese screen. It had sheltered me in my last adventure and I thought it might do so again, as the prostrate burglar was lying a couple of yards past the opening of the door and his two friends were probably examining him. Accordingly I stepped softly along the room and took up a position behind the screen in a recess of the folds. My movements had evidently been unobserved and my new position enabled me to peep out into the hall—at some risk of being seen—and to hear all that passed.
"For the moment there was nothing to hear but a faint rustling from the two men and an occasional creak from the upper stairs. But presently I caught a hoarse whisper.
"'Dam funny. He seems to be dead.'
"'Yus; he do look like it,' the other agreed and then added optimistically, 'but p'raps he's only took queer.'
"'Dam!' was the impatient rejoinder. 'I tell yer he's dead—dead as a pork chop.'
"There was another silence and then, in a yet softer whisper, a voice asked:
"'D'yer think somebody's been and done 'im in, Fred?'
"'Don't see no marks,' answered Fred; 'besides there ain't no one here. Hallo! what's that?'
"'That' was a loud creak on the upper stairs near the first-floor landing, doubtless emanating from Miss Slodger or the cook. I have no doubt that these sounds of stealthy movement were highly disturbing to the burglars, especially in the present circumstances. And so it appeared, for the answer came in an obviously frightened whisper: 'There's someone on the stairs, Fred. Let's hook it. This job ain't no class.'
"'What!' was the indignant reply. ''Ook it and leave all that stuff. Not me! Nor you neither. There's more'n what one of us can carry. And you put away that barker or else you'll be lettin' it off and bringin' in the coppers. D'ye 'ear?'