MRS. AUSTIN. Tell it to me.

JIM. It ain't just a good time for story telling.

MRS. AUSTIN. You are afraid of me? I have no quarrel with you. I don't
care anything for the things you have in the bag; and, besides, I
suppose you won't take them now. I'm only sorry to see a man going
wrong, and I'd like to help if I could. I'll play fair, I give you my
word of honor.

JIM. There ain't much honor in this business.

MRS. AUSTIN. No, I suppose not. But you can trust me. Put up that gun
and talk to me.

JIM. [Surlily.] It can't do any good.

MRS. AUSTIN. It can't do any harm. Put up that revolver, and tell me
what's the matter.

JIM. You'll let me go when I want to? No tricks!

MRS. AUSTIN. I give you my word.

JIM. All right. I'm a fool, I guess, but I'll trust you. [Puts
revolver in pocket.] Sit down, ma'am. It must be cold for you. This is
a queer kind of layout for a burglar. [Sits opposite her.] You heard
that racket I made in the other room?

MRS. AUSTIN. Yes. What was it?