"A miss is as good as a mile. It's lucky for both of us it wasn't.
Lord!" He blew noisily. "There's no need for you to go pale-green
for a little thing like that."

"If I can assure you, sir--" said Mr. Ledbetter, with an effort.

"There's only one thing to do. If I call in the police, I'm bust--
a little game I've got on is bust. That won't do. If I tie you up
and leave you again, the thing may be out to-morrow. Tomorrow's
Sunday, and Monday's Bank Holiday--I've counted on three clear
days. Shooting you's murder--and hanging; and besides, it will bust
the whole blooming kernooze. I'm hanged if I can think what to do--
I'm hanged if I can."

"Will you permit me--"

"You gas as much as if you were a real parson, I'm blessed if you
don't. Of all the burglars you are the--Well! No!--I WON'T permit
you. There isn't time. If you start off jawing again, I'll shoot
right in your stomach. See? But I know now-I know now! What we're
going to do first, my man, is an examination for concealed arms--
an examination for concealed arms. And look here! When I tell you
to do a thing, don't start off at a gabble--do it brisk."

And with many elaborate precautions, and always pointing the pistol
at Mr. Ledbetter's head, the stout man stood him up and searched
him for weapons. "Why, you ARE a burglar!" he said "You're a perfect
amateur. You haven't even a pistol-pocket in the back of your
breeches. No, you don't! Shut up, now."