"I dessay," answered my friend. "Just you come down, an' we'll see
about that."

The old man nodded and smiled. Then--as I hope to be saved--he came
floating gently down through the moonlight, with the sack over his
shoulder and a young fir-tree clasped to his chest. He alighted in a
friendly manner on the curb beside us.

Judlip was the first to recover himself. Out went his right arm, and
the airman was slung round by the scruff of the neck, spilling his
sack in the road. I made a bee-line for his shoulder-blades. Burglar
or no burglar, he was the best airman out, and I was muchly desirous
to know the precise nature of the apparatus under his ulster. A
back-hander from Judlip's left caused me to hop quickly aside. The
prisoner was squealing and whimpering. He didn't like the feel of
Judlip's knuckles at his cervical vertebræ.

"Wot wos yer doin' hup there?" asked Judlip, tightening the grip.

"I'm S-Santa Claus, Sir. P-please, Sir, let me g-go"

"Hold him," I shouted. "He's a German."

"It's my dooty ter caution yer that wotever yer say now may be used
in hevidence against yer, yer old sinner. Pick up that there sack, an'
come along o' me."

The captive snivelled something about peace on earth, good will toward
men.