hasty but skillful operations of her recalcitrant beneficiary. She
watched him empty her innovation trunk, the drawers in her bureau,
and the closet in which her choicest gowns were hanging. He did it
very thoroughly. The floor was strewn with lingerie, hats, shoes,
slippers, gloves, stockings, furs, frocks,--over which he trod with
professional disdain; he broke open her smart little jewel case and
took therefrom a glittering assortment of rings, bracelets, and
earrings; a horseshoe pin, a gorgeous crescent, and a string of
pearls; a platinum and diamond wrist watch, an acorn watch, a
diamond collar, several bars of diamonds, rubies and emeralds, and
odds and ends of feminine vanity all without so much as pausing to
classify them beyond the mere word "junk". All of this dazzling
fortune he stuffed carelessly into his pocket.

During the proceedings, Mr. Yollop stood obediently over against the
wall, his hands aloft, his back towards the rummaging Cassius.

"What's in that room over there?" demanded the burglar, pointing to
a closed door. For obvious reasons there was no response. He scowled
for a second or two and then, striding over to Mr. Yollop, seized
him by the shoulder and turned him about-face. Then he repeated the
question.

"That's the room where my niece sleeps. A little ten year old child,
Cassius. You will oblige me by not disturbing--"

"Is her hair bobbed?" broke in Mr. Smilk.

"Certainly not. She wears it long. Beautiful golden tresses, Smilk.
Particularly beautiful when she's asleep, spreading out all over the