CHAPTER V
A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
How long the light had been darting about the room like a very muchenlarged firefly, Jimmy did not know. It seemed to him like hours,for it had woven itself into an incoherent waking dream of his; andfor a moment, as the mists of sleep passed away from his brain, hefancied that he was dreaming still. Then, sleep left him, and herealized that the light, which was now moving slowly across thebookcase, was a real light.
That the man behind it could not have been there long was plain, orhe would have seen the chair and its occupant. He seemed to betaking the room step by step. As Jimmy sat up noiselessly andgripped the arms of the chair in readiness for a spring, the lightpassed from the bookcase to the table. Another foot or so to theleft, and it would have fallen on Jimmy.
From the position of the ray, Jimmy could see that the burglar wasapproaching on his side of the table. Though until that day he hadnot been in the room for two months, its geography was clearlystamped on his mind's eye. He knew almost to a foot where hisvisitor was standing. Consequently, when, rising swiftly from thechair, he made a football dive into the darkness, it was nospeculative dive. It had a conscious aim, and it was not restrainedby any uncertainty as to whether the road to the burglar's knees wasclear or not.
His shoulder bumped into a human leg. His arms closedinstantaneously on it, and pulled. There was a yelp of dismay, and acrash. The lantern bounced away across the room, and wrecked itselfon the reef of the steam-heater. Its owner collapsed in a heap ontop of Jimmy.
Jimmy, underneath at the fall, speedily put himself uppermost with atwist of his body. He had every advantage. The burglar was a smallman, and had been taken very much by surprise, and any fight theremight have been in him in normal circumstances had been shaken outof him by the fall. He lay still, not attempting to struggle.
Jimmy half-rose, and, pulling his prisoner by inches to the door,felt up the wall till he found the electric-light button.
The yellow glow that flooded the room disclosed a short, stockyyouth of obviously Bowery extraction. A shock of vivid red hair wasthe first thing about him that caught the eye. A poet would havedescribed it as Titian. Its proprietor's friends and acquaintancesprobably called it "carrots." Looking up at Jimmy from under thiswealth of crimson was a not unpleasing face. It was not handsome,certainly; but there were suggestions of a latent good-humor. Thenose had been broken at one period of its career, and one of theears was undeniably of the cauliflower type; but these are littleaccidents which may happen to any high-spirited young gentleman. Incostume, the visitor had evidently been guided rather by individualtaste than by the dictates of fashion. His coat was of rusty black,his trousers of gray, picked out with stains of various colors.Beneath the coat was a faded red-and-white sweater. A hat of softfelt lay on the floor by the table.
The cut of the coat was poor, and the fit of it spoiled by a bulgein one of the pockets. Diagnosing this bulge correctly, Jimmyinserted his hand, and drew out a dingy revolver.
"Well?" he said, rising.
Like most people, he had often wondered what he should do if he wereto meet a burglar; and he had always come to the conclusion thatcuriosity would be his chief emotion. His anticipations were provedperfectly correct. Now that he had abstracted his visitor's gun, hehad no wish to do anything but engage him in conversation. Aburglar's life was something so entirely outside his experience! Hewanted to learn the burglar's point of view. Incidentally, hereflected with amusement, as he recalled his wager, he might pick upa few useful hints.
The man on the floor sat up, and rubbed the back of his headruefully.
"Gee!" he muttered. "I t'ought some guy had t'rown de buildin' atme."
"It was only little me," said Jimmy. "Sorry if I hurt you at all.You really want a mat for that sort of thing."
The man's hand went furtively to his pocket. Then, his eye caughtsight of the revolver, which Jimmy had placed on the table. With asudden dash, he seized it.
"Now, den, boss!" he said, between his teeth.
Jimmy extended his hand, and unclasped it. Six shells lay in thepalm.
"Why worry?" he said. "Sit down and let us talk of life."
"It's a fair cop, boss," said the man, resignedly.
"Away with melancholy," said Jimmy. "I'm not going to call thepolice. You can beat it whenever you like."
The man stared.
"I mean it," said Jimmy. "What's the trouble? I've no grievance. Iwish, though, if you haven't any important engagement, you wouldstop and talk awhile first."
A broad grin spread itself across the other's face. There wassomething singularly engaging about him when he grinned.
"Gee! If youse ain't goin' to call de cops, I'll talk till dechickens roost ag'in."
"Talking, however," said Jimmy, "is dry work. Are you by any chanceon the wagon?"
"What's dat? Me? On your way, boss!"
"Then, you'll find a pretty decent whiskey in that decanter. Helpyourself. I think you'll like it."
A musical gurgling, followed by a contented sigh, showed that thestatement had been tested and proved correct.
"Cigar?" asked Jimmy.
"Me fer dat," assented his visitor.
"Take a handful."
"I eats dem alive," said the marauder jovially, gathering in thespoils.
Jimmy crossed his legs.
"By the way," he said, "let there be no secrets between us. What'syour name? Mine is Pitt. James Willoughby Pitt."
"Mullins is my monaker, boss. Spike, dey calls me."
"And you make a living at this sort of thing?"
"Not so woise."
"How did you get in here?"
Spike Mullins grinned.
"Gee! Ain't de window open?"
"If it hadn't been?"
"I'd a' busted it."
Jimmy eyed the fellow fixedly.
"Can you use an oxy-acetylene blow-pipe?" he demanded.
Spike was on the point of drinking. He lowered his glass, and gaped.
"What's dat?" he said.
"An oxy-acetylene blow-pipe."
"Search me," said Spike, blankly. "Dat gets past me."
Jimmy's manner grew more severe.
"Can you make soup?"
"Soup, boss?"
"He doesn't know what soup is," said Jimmy, despairingly. "My goodman, I'm afraid you have missed your vocation. You have no businessto be trying to burgle. You don't know the first thing about thegame."
Spike was regarding the speaker with disquiet over his glass. Tillnow, the red-haired one had been very well satisfied with hismethods, but criticism was beginning to sap his nerve. He had heardtales of masters of his craft who made use of fearsome implementssuch as Jimmy had mentioned; burglars who had an airyacquaintanceship, bordering on insolent familiarity, with themarvels of science; men to whom the latest inventions were asfamiliar as his own jemmy was to himself. Could this be one of thatselect band? His host began to take on a new aspect in his eyes.
"Spike," said Jimmy.
"Huh?"
"Have you a thorough knowledge of chemistry, physics--"
"On your way, boss!"
"--toxicology--"
"Search me!"
"--electricity and microscopy?"
"... Nine, ten. Dat's de finish. I'm down an' out."
Jimmy shook his head, sadly.
"Give up burglary," he said. "It's not in your line. Better trypoultry-farming."
Spike twiddled his glass, abashed.
"Now, I," said Jimmy airily, "am thinking of breaking into a houseto-night."
"Gee!" exclaimed Spike, his suspicions confirmed at last. "I t'oughtyouse was in de game, boss. Sure, you're de guy dat's onto all decurves. I t'ought so all along."
"I should like to hear," said Jimmy amusedly, as one who draws outan intelligent child, "how you would set about burgling one of thoseup-town villas. My own work has been on a somewhat larger scale andon the other side of the Atlantic."
"De odder side?"
"I have done as much in London, as anywhere else," said Jimmy. "Agreat town, London, full of opportunities for the fine worker. Didyou hear of the cracking of the New Asiatic Bank in Lombard Street?"
"No, boss," whispered Spike. "Was dat you?"
Jimmy laughed.
"The police would like an answer to the same question," he said,self-consciously. "Perhaps, you heard nothing of the disappearanceof the Duchess of Havant's diamonds?"
"Wasdat--?"
"The thief," said Jimmy, flicking a speck of dust from his coatsleeve, "was discovered to have used an oxy-acetylene blow-pipe."
The rapturous intake of Spike's breath was the only sound that brokethe silence. Through the smoke, his eyes could be seen slowlywidening.
"But about this villa," said Jimmy. "I am always interested even inthe humblest sides of the profession. Now, tell me, supposing youwere going to break into a villa, what time of night would you doit?"
"I always t'inks it's best either late like dis or when de folks isin at supper," said Spike, respectfully.
Jimmy smiled a faint, patronizing smile, and nodded.
"Well, and what would you do?"
"I'd rubber around some to see isn't dere a window open somewheres,"said Spike, diffidently.
"And if there wasn't?"
"I'd climb up de porch an' into one of de bedrooms," said Spike,almost blushing. He felt like a boy reading his first attempts atoriginal poetry to an established critic. What would this mastercracksman, this polished wielder of the oxy-acetylene blow-pipe,this expert in toxicology, microscopy and physics think of hiscallow outpourings!
"How would you get into the bedroom?"
Spike hung his head.
"Bust de catch wit' me jemmy," he whispered, shamefacedly.
"Burst the catch with your jemmy?"
"It's de only way I ever learned," pleaded Spike.
The expert was silent. He seemed to be thinking. The other watchedhis face, humbly.
"How would youse do it, boss?" he ventured timidly, at last.
"Eh?"
"How would youse do it?"
"Why, I'm not sure," said the master, graciously, "whether your waymight not do in a case like that. It's crude, of course, but with afew changes it would do."
"Gee, boss! Is dat right?" queried the astonished disciple.
"It would do," said the master, frowning thoughtfully; "it would doquite well--quite well!"
Spike drew a deep breath of joy and astonishment. That his methodsshould meet with approval from such a mind...!
"Gee!" he whispered--as who would say, "I and Napoleon."