"As a bear."

Quentin never tried to explain his subsequent actions; perhaps he
had had a stupid evening. He merely yawned and addressed the burglar
with all possible respect. "Do you imagine I'll permit any guest of
mine to go away hungry? If you'll wait till I dress, we'll stroll
over to a restaurant in the next street and get some supper.

"Police station, you mean."

"Now, don't be unkind, Mr. Burglar. I mean supper for two. I'm
hungry myself, but not a bit sleepy. Will you wait?"

"Oh, I'm in no particular hurry."

Quentin dressed calmly. The burglar began whistling softly.

"Are you ready?" asked Philip, putting on his overcoat and hat.

"I haven't got me overcoat on yet," replied the burglar,
suggestively. Quentin saw he was dressed in the chilliest of rags.
He opened a closet door and threw him a long coat.

"Ah, here is your coat. I must have taken it from the club by
mistake. Pardon me."

"T'anks; I never expected to git it back," coolly replied the
burglar, donning the best coat that had ever touched his person.
"You didn't see anything of my gloves and hat in there, did you?" A