Connecticut western news., 1917-08-09
An Ineffective Revenge By ALAN HINSDALE


 Arsdale was sitting on the porch at the time and asked him what she could do for him. Presenting the photograph, he said:
 "I am introducing the burglar alarm photograph. It is especially designed for unprotected families and renders other defenses unnecessary. It is con- nected electrically with such openings in the house as would be considered available by a burglar, wound ready for use, and OnAhis breaking the con- nectiOn the clockwork is set going The machine then addresses the bur- glar, who. finding his presence in the house to be known, beats precipitate retreat"
 The prelude to such encomiums as drummer knows how to pour out upon I what he has for sale caused the young lady to call out:
 Mother! Come here"
 Mother came. The salesman repeated what he had already said and contin- ued Nike trotting horse on an endless track:
 If the burglar is one of the desper. ate kind any member of the family who has been awakened by the phono- graphs first words may move a slide marked Shoot" and the report of pistol will be heard. This slide" point ing to another, lis to call the police"
 Mother and daughter exchanged glances. They were deprived of mans protection and never went to bed with out poking canes and umbrellas under their beds. MT. Van Arsdale waa obliged to spend his summers in the city and was rarely with them. When he came up he lay like a watchdog on wire inclosed portion of the, porch, and his wife and daughter slumbered.
 Mrs. Van Arsdale asked the price of one of the photographs, drew check for the $10O asked, and after the new owner had been duly instructed the drummer departed.
 It was Saturday evening. MT. Van Arsdale had written that he would not be able to spend the week end with his family, and after the house was closed for the night Mrs. Van Arsdale and her daughter placed the photograph at the top of the staircase leading down to the front door. The salesman had put in all the connections, and there was noth- ing to be done except make the attach, ments. These things having been at tended to, the ladies went to bed, and sleep and oblivion reigned over all.
 MT. Van Arsdale changed his mind and went home.
 It was just twenty minutes to 12 when MT. Van Arsdale arrived at home and stepped lightly on to his porch that he might not awaken his wife and daughter. His out of door bedding not being provided, he thought he would go upstairs stealthily and get it. In serting his night key, he opened the door and as he stepped into the hall felt his foot catch in some obstruction, such as a fine wire or light string What was his astonishment to hear a Sonorous voice burst forth:
 "Aha You thought to get in here without our knowing it, did you? Ad- vance at your peril I've got the drop on you! An inch further and you're dead man.!
 It must be admitted that such a re- ception on entering his own house had marked effect on MT. Van ArsdaIe The only motion he made was throw ing up of his hands. He could not see the speaker, but he supposed the speak CT could see him, since he had declared 1 that he had the drop.
 At the first challenge of the intruder Mrs. Van Arsdale and Birdie both slid out of bed and made for the position of the photograph, reaching it just as the talking machine pronounced the words "a dead man."
 "Is he going out?" whispered Mrs. Van Arsdale, shivering
 'No," replied the daughter. q think can hear him down there near the door,"
 Push the slide calling the police" ? Birdie felt for the slide, but, not be- ing able to see in the dark, struck the wrong one. There was a shot, follow ed by the words," We'll, then, take thatw
 Something was heard to drop in the hall below.
 What have you done?" cried the mother frantically. T told you to move the slide calling the police! You've killed himv'
 "Why, mother, it wasn't a real shot. It couldn't hurt any one."
 The imagination is powerfuI-at least MT. Van Arsdale found 1t so, for on hearing the shot he felt a shock; his knees gave way and let him down. When he heard his wife accusing his daughter of having killed him, not feel ing at all dead, he called out Tn his own true voice:
 What in thunder is all this about?"
 "Why, it's papa!' cried Birdie.
 "Oh, Henry, are you killed? mean ! prn VOI1 friobtoDod fo doo+ho.,