Hezekiah picked up a cobblestone, threw it, and struck the man full on the ear.
The policeman smiled at him roguishly, and then gently wagged his finger in reproof. It was the same policeman who had struck him fourteen weeks before for asking the way.
Hezekiah moved on, still full of his new idea of crime. Down the street was a novelty shop, the window decked with New Year’s gifts.
“Sell me a revolver,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said the salesman. “Would you like something for evening wear, or a plain kind for home use. Here is a very good family revolver, or would you like a roof garden size?”
Hezekiah selected a revolver and went out.
“Now, then,” he muttered, “I will burglarise a house and get money.”
Walking across to Fifth Avenue he selected one of the finest residences and rang the bell.
A man in livery appeared in the brightly lighted hall.
“Where is your master?” Hezekiah asked, showing his revolver.