though not his wife nor his ass, because I don't like his wife
and he keeps no live-stock--all my sins, I say, rose up before
me, for I expected every moment that a bullet would penetrate
my brain, or my heart if perchance the burglar whom I suspected
of levelling a clicking revolver at me aimed at my feet.

"Who is there?" I cried, making a vocal display of bravery I
did not feel, hiding behind our hair sofa.

The only answer was another click.

"This is serious," I whispered softly to myself. "There are
two of 'em; I am in the light, unarmed. They are concealed by
the darkness and have revolvers. There is only one way out of
this, and that is by strategy. I'll pretend I think I've made
a mistake." So I addressed myself aloud.

"What an idiot you are," I said, so that my words could be
heard by the burglars. "If this is the effect of Aldus Club
dinners you'd better give them up. That click wasn't a click
at all, but the ticking of our new eight-day clock."

I paused, and from the corner there came a dozen more clicks
in quick succession, like the cocking of as many revolvers.

"Great Heavens!" I murmured, under my breath. "It must be Ali
Baba with his forty thieves."

As I spoke, the mystery cleared itself, for following close
upon a thirteenth click came the gentle ringing of a bell, and