sight. His clothing had accumulated all the mud in the unfinished
cellar and his false whiskers were skewed around, giving his face
the expression of a prize gorilla.

Bunch looked at me reproachfully, but never opened his head. Say!
if ever there was a dead game sport, Bunch Jefferson is the answer.

He didn't even whimper when the village Hawkshaw snapped the
bracelets on his wrist and said, "Come on, Mr. Buggular! This
here's a fine night's work for everybody in this neighborhood
because you've been a source of pesterment around here for six
months. If you don't get ten years, Mr. Buggular, then I ain't no
guess maker. Come along; goodnight to you, one and all; that there
boy that catched this buggular ought to get rewarded nice!"

"He will be," I said mentally, as Mr. Diggs led the suffering Bunch
away to the Bastile.

"I've got to see that villain landed in a cell," I said to Clara J.
as the door closed on the victor and vanquished.

"Do, John!" she answered; "but don't be too hard on the poor
fellow. You can't tell what temptations may have led him astray.
I certainly am disappointed for I was sure it was the ghost.
Anyway, the burglar had whiskers like the ghost's, didn't he?"

I didn't stop to reply, but grabbing my coat rushed away to
formulate some plan to get Bunch out of hock.