"Burglars!" I repeated, mechanically.

"Sure! it's a pipe!" Bunch went on with enthusiasm. "You will play
Spike Hennessy and I'll be Gumshoe Charlie. We'll disguise
ourselves with whiskers and break into the house about 2 o'clock in
the morning. We'll arouse the sleeping inmates, shoot our
bullet-holders in the ceiling once or twice and hand them enough
excitement to make them gallop back to town on the first train. Do
you follow me, eh, what?"

"Not me, Bunch," I shook my head sadly. "Nix on the burgle for
yours truly. I must take the next train back to the woods.
Otherwise wee wifey may suspect something and begin to pass me out
the zero language. But I like the burglar idea. Couldn't you do
it as a monologue?"

"What! all by my lonesome?" cried Bunch. "Say! John, doesn't that
sound like making me work a trifle too hard to get my own goods
back ?"

I sighed and looked as helpless as a nut under the hammer.

Bunch laughed again. "Oh, very well," he said, "I see I'm the only
life-saver on duty so I'll do a single specialty and pull you out
of the pickle bottle."

I grasped my rescuer's hand and shook it warmly in silence.

"Leave a front window open," Bunch directed, "and somewhere around