"Me name's Bertram," conceded the burglar.
"Well-er-Bertram, you now have an opportunity to prove yourself the quickest man in the city. Bring around that machine there."
At the word a thing like a penny-in-the-slot scales were trundled over the porcelain by two pit guards. They brought it to a halt just before Mr. Pity. Following it came Mr. Virtue, who drew the chief of police aside, whispered earnestly to him, and stepped back. Suspiciously Bertram eyed the contrivance, with its platform and large dial.
"Now, Bertram, place yourself on that platform and grasp the lever at the right. That's it. Now. Raise your left hand and snap finger and thumb nine times!"
With a dazed look the burglar obeyed. The needle on the dial jerked, swept around once, quivered, and stopped. By the servant's instructions, Bertram performed a number of similar feats, all equally trivial. Each time the needle made its mysterious record. At last Mr. Pity seemed satisfied.
"Very good. Mr. Virtue, would you mind making a note of that percentage? You may step off, Bertram."
Still dazed, Bertram again obeyed.
"You next, chief. Thank you."
The mysterious rites of the grasped lever and foolish-looking calisthenics were repeated.
"What is the comparison, Mr. Virtue?"