perilously downstairs. The stout gentleman followed with an overcoat,
the hatbox, and the revolver, making derogatory remarks about Mr.
Ledbetter's strength, and assisting him at the turnings of the stairs.

"The back door," he directed, and Mr. Ledbetter staggered through
a conservatory, leaving a wake of smashed flower-pots behind him.
"Never mind the crockery," said the stout man; "it's good for trade.
We wait here until a quarter past. You can put those things down. You
have!"

Mr. Ledbetter collapsed panting on the trunk. "Last night," he gasped,
"I was asleep in my little room, and I no more dreamt--"

"There's no need for you to incriminate yourself," said the stout
gentleman, looking at the lock of the revolver. He began to hum.
Mr. Ledbetter made to speak, and thought better of it.

There presently came the sound of a bell, and Mr. Ledbetter was
taken to the back door and instructed to open it. A fair-haired man
in yachting costume entered. At the sight of Mr. Ledbetter he started
violently and clapped his hand behind him. Then he saw the stout
man. "Bingham!" he cried, "who's this?"

"Only a little philanthropic do of mine--burglar I'm trying to reform.
Caught him under my bed just now. He's all right. He's a frightful
ass. He'll be useful to carry some of our things."

The newcomer seemed inclined to resent Mr. Ledbetter's presence
at first, but the stout man reassured him.