The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1900-08-12
The Burglar.


life. For the last three years he had earn
ed his daily beer by doing odd jobs for such
citizens as needed an unskilled painter.
This honorable, but scarcely lucrative.
profession was now closed to him. He had
never loved work: he had distaste for
that great system of corporation that is
so marked a feature at the present day In
his own words, he didn't want no bloom
in master nor yet no bloomin' pals. He
wanted to work on is own" Nevertheless
he remembered with pride that in the
words of the Judge, who addressed him
from the bench, he had for the last three
years followed a most respectable calling.
Richard lad described himself as a tar
man." and the judge had entered him on
his notes as a "carman," and was labor
ing under this trifling misrepresentation
when be addressed the prisoner before
sentencing him to six months hard labor
for an aggravated assault on one of his
employers.
The six months were over now, but
Richard felt that this most respectable
calling must Of necessity be closed to an
ex-conyict. He had, therefore, chosen an
other that would enable him TO crafty
his passion for independent work. He was
now about 10 enter upon this new pro-
fession. 1t was an important step, and
Richard was too shrewd a man to take it
hastily. He had made the usual enquiries,
and had satisfied himself that THE Ce-
dars" was in every way a most suitable
house for a beginner. In the first place
there was no dog; secondly, the master Of
the house was in South Africa, leaving his
wife at home; thirdly, two OF the three
servants were absent; fOurthly, there was
a most tempting little balcony over the
hall door; and last, but not least, there
was not another house within mile.
Richard looked regreuully at his new and
shining tools which had cost him nearly
his last penny; they would be almost use
less in a case like this; still, perhaps it
was best TO begin with an easy job. Even
q burglar cannot expect to spring into fame
and wealth at once.
He slipped over the low wall. crossed tie
well-kept lawn, and halted little to the
right OF the porch. He arranged the vari-
Gus bags for the carriage of tools ard booty
picturesquely about his person, and started
to climb the trelis-work against the house.
He reached the little balcony and stepped
cautiously on to 1t. There ere two VIII
aows opening on to it: one a French win
dow, which was closed; the other, an or
binary respectable British window, which
was slightly open.
The artist in Richard was awake that
night-any casual amateur could enter a
house by an open window: it was a burg
lars business to break in-silently, skill
fully, no doubt, but still to break in. lie
ti;rned TO the French window and tried his
new tools on it, one after the other. He
burrowed into the wood like an ant, but
the window was no more open at the end
of mis- work than it had been at the begin
ming. There was a little sawdust on the
balcony, and that was ALL Richard looked
again at the open window and pondered.
The room was a bedroom, he knew, be-
cause when he had examined the house in
the morning he had noticed the back Of a
looking glass at the window. In Richards
philosophy an open window meant an
empty bedroom; he never slept with a
bloomin wind blowing at him. not he; but
perhaps some folks were fools enough to
like it Then, again. it might be a trap.
He tried to peer into the room, but heavy
curtains INSTRUCTED the view. At last with
infinite care, he put his hand through the
opening and moved one of the curtains
Slightly. The room was nearly dark, but
not quite It seemed to him there must be
q light Of some kind in it. but he couldn't
make out where it was. Then there came
10 his ears a sound-a familiar sound, that
carried him back to the days of his limo
cent childhood and his fathers room in
Brigson's Buildings, E. 1t was a snore;
a good, Incorporating British snore.
A figure crossed his field of vision, with
swift. silent steps. There was a gurgling
sound and then a cry. '-Oh, lor mum, how
you startled mel" Hush, hush, for Gods
sake," said another voice, in a kissing
whisper; you'll wake him-you were snor-
Ing"
well, mum, and If waslm that
tired"
BE quiet be quiet. tell you" Then
q third voice Joined in, feeble. wailing
voice. Mother" 1t cried, mother, it
hurts me-oh. it does hurt me So
That was enough for Richard; he wasn't
going to intrude where he wasn't wanted.
II was quite a little family party in that
room. The mistress of the house was there
and her little son, and the housemaid-
the only servant at home that night. 1t
was the housemaid that mad snored and
then called out. He knew her voice: he
had thought CT trying to get her TO help at
one time, but, true to his rule OF having
no pals he had abandoned the idea. Well,
then, these were the points to consider:
First, the other rooms must be empty.
That was good. Secondly. all the three oc-
cupants OF the house were awake. That
x
try TO get In on the ground floor. or should
he climb up the trellis-work to another
window
He decided on the latter course. The
ground-foor windows would have shutters;
besides, the people might go down TO the
kitchen to get drinks for the boy or some
thing. What was all the good OF his climb
ing as painter IL he couldn't climb now?
He readjusted his discredited tools. swung
himself of the balcony and started to 20
up the treiiis-work TO the next window.
In all the weary months since that sad
November morning, when she saw the ship
that bore her husband and his comrades
th-ashing its way seward through the fog,
Mrs. ThoTburn had never felt her loss so
keenly as she did this night. She had sent
her husband to his duty with a smiling
face; she had braced her nerves TO bear the
dreadful strain OF waiting. braced herself
even TO hear the news OF that glorious
tragedy. KILLED in action" that might
come to strike her heart at any moment
She was proud TO be soldiers wife. But
this night-how she longed to have him
back. at all costs to his country, TO his
honor TO have him with her now. For
their son, their only son. was i'll, seized
in the grip Of one Of those sudden sick
nesses that mothers know so well.
The nearest doctor lived two miles away.
she had no neighbors. and there was no
one in the house but the housemaid. Jane.
Jane had been despatched for the doctor
had gone and found him not at home. and.
with q literal obedience worthy OF the
British army had returned leaving no
name or message because she had had no
orders 10 do so. The boy appeared to grow
easier-he was sleeping when Jane return
ed. and Mrs. Thorburn watching by the
bed was less anxious now. She made Jane
sit in the chair near the fire to be ready
for any emergency. The snore that Rich
ard heard had awakened the bov-he WIS