“HONOR AMONG THIEVES.”

Dunstan Times, Issue 2486, 21 June 1909, Page 2

“HONOR AMONG THIEVES.”

(By Henry Kirk.)

Parker bad been sitting up a little later than usual. Ho had been Hissing with gome books and things, aji odd letter, and a few accounts, when he discovered that it was one o’clock. He concluded at once that it was time to go to bod. He put away his unfinished work and made a neat pile of his books. Then he turned off one of the lights and, in an afterthought, tried the lower drawers in the table. They were all safely looked but the one at the bottom. He secured this, after a moment’s difficulty with the key, and stood up to put out the remaining electric. , , . ... . As he did so, ho found himself face to face with a man directly in front of the table. . , ~ , i The man was unmistakably a burglar. His general appearance was of a nature to sufficiently indicate the fact. But Ins appearance was not all that established his identification, for in his right hand he hold a revolver which Parker felt was pointing directly to a, certain spot in the very centre of his forehead. It was Parker’s first encounter with a burglar, and he found it extremely- unpleasant. Ho had never fancied himself in that position, and was quite at a loss as to what he should do. In view of his present helplessness, there didn t seem very much he could do. He stood very still, looking beyond the pistol, and into the face of the man behind it. “I don’t want to shoot,” said the man. Parker laughed nervously. “No,” ( he <rot out. “I—l don’t want to, either. " “But I will, if you make any noise.” A silence followed the remark, then Parker exclaimed jerkily: “I don’t see why you came here. You probably would do "much better next door/’ “Do you think they’d want me any more than you;” . Parker laughed nervously again. ' ■ don’t suppose they would. ’ “I don’t, either. Now, if you’d let me have what —what you can spare.” the man still held his guu on the same level. Parker felt a burning sensation iu his forehead, directly in the centre. It was just where a bullet would find itself if the gun were fired. He did not feel at all brave, nor as cool as he knew he should lie. “I haven’t very much,” he began. “I do wish you would put that gun (town. I can’t think-with it pointing at me.” The man laughed. “I can see myself doing it,” he said. “The next thing I’d know you’d get one from somewhere and pull it on mo.” “No, I wouldn’t.” Parker said it very quickly. “Well, never mind about that: let’s see what you’ve got. You’d better lock that door first.” Parker hesitated a second, then locked the door. As he did so, the burning spot in his forehead shifted to the side of his head. Then, as he turned round, it burned clear hack again. "I tel! you what, old man,” ho exclaim ed, “if I’m going to have that thing pointed at me, I don’t know what 1 11 do. I’ll be more likely to hand you an ac-count-book than —than, well, what you’re looking for.” “That’s all right: we’ve got tho room to ourselves.” Then Parker thought of tho alarm under the table. It occurred to him then for the first time. He had been very careful to have it installed, and had more than once rehearsed its practical value. Now, when the time had come, he had failed to use it. He could have pressed the button very easily as he was getting up f rom locking tho bottom drawer. He had never tested it in the middle of the night. Why had he not done so bcfci-j locking the drawers? Ho knew now the only thing to do was to reach it in some way or other. Then ho thought it might’ not matter much il he did succeed ; for, even if the people iu the house did respond, they would have the door to reckon with ; and, while they were breaking it in, the man would hay* time to shoot and get away as mysteriously as ho came —obviously through the window. But he determined to try it. He went to the table. There were some things in the second drawer ho did not wish to lose. They were all of value, and some in the category of tho' mm-replac-able. He certainly did nqt care to lose them. He would not have given one of them to his nearest friend, and he cared still less for the idea of this house-breakei exchanging them with pawnbrokers for good hard coin. Then there were some contracts, and—well, there were a number of things in that drawer he did not care to go without. As he bent over tho table, the burning spot shifted appropriately. It burned deeper with each second, which, by the way, assumed proportions of minutes. Then he experienced a sense of extreme annoyance. He forgot the alarm, and even the things in the second drawer. “Sec here,” he explained, looking up: “men like vou are confounded nuisances!’ The man laughed. "What are men like me going to do?” “To begin with, you won’t do anything but what you are doing.” Parker looked straight at him, and this time with less of (he burning sensation, which, at this particular moment, should have been in the centre of his forehead. The man was not responsive. "I don’t know about that,” he said at last, “Some qf us might he decent enough—in the beginning, anyway, if—” “If what?” “Well, if we got a chance.” “Would you?” “Have to see the chance first.” “Suppose. I give it to you.” The man said nothing. Parker kept his eyes upon him. “Suppose I give -it to you,” he repeated it. “Let’s have it ” “Put down that gun first.” The man started to lower his pistol, then quickly raised it again. “What do you think I am?” he growled. “I’ll give you a chance to earn some

money honestly.” Parker was cool now. “Shovelling coal?” “No, not shovelling coal.” “It’s something you can do right in this room. You have said something about not having a chance. Now, it’s up to J °“Well, what is it?” The man lowered his gtm. , , , j “1 am an author,” Parker began, and before you came in on me I was trying to work out a story with a burglary in it. I wasn’t getting along very well, so 1 decided to stop work and go to bed. Aow, I’ll give you twenty-five dollars for some detail—”’’ T . ~ . , “Twenty-five dollars, when 1 might get five times as much- 1 -” _ . . Parker interrupted him. “1 m giving you a chance to earn some honest money. “I don’t want it.” “Yes, you do.” Parker felt astonishing-

ly calm. He thought of mental telepathy and things like that, and proceeded to throw out all the thought-sug- , gestion and thought-transference he could , muster. “Now, dit down there, and 111 ] take your notes.” He sat down at the table, and took a j pad from the little pile of books. The man sat down opposite, in a somewhat sullen, unwilling manner. , Parker smiled amiably. "Now, he said, “tell me how you got in here.” “Not on your life I” The man leaned forward confidentially. “Well, tell me how you got in somewhere else.” . ~ “A hundred different ways. Say, what r your game?” The alarm-button was directly beneath the pad over which Parker was suspending his pencil. If he could reach it in some way without attracting the mans attention. but those eyes of his seemed to take in' his very thoughts. . “Well, I’ll tell you about something I was sent up for, then you can’t peach on me.” ’ , . ~ , “That will be the thing exactly, although—” Parker added, “your suspicions are quite groundless. Now!” For the next fifteen minutes Parker took his notes. The time seemed miyrminable, and the matter he was copying of no special value. It was pretty muc.i the account of a very ordinary, very conventional burglary. The man had no direct sense of humor, he thought. He was altogether stolid and uninteresting. Parker made several attempts to get at the button, reaching for his handkerchiei, dropping his pencil, and a few other little passes of the same trivial nature, had absolutely no faith in the man that ho would go quietly with his hou&stlv earned money. His sincerity was net a matter to depend upon, nor to be juggico with very long, even if he was sitting very still upon the other side of the table. That-was another thing—how long would he stay that way?” The man looked at him dully and went on. He told of another burglary, and then of another. He spoke simply and directly. , . ... “There!” said Parker triumphantly, after ten minutes. "I think that will do very nicely.” He made a neat pile ol the' detached sheets and smiled' at the man on the other side of the table, the moment bad arrived for him to do something, but just what that was did not seem exactly . apparent. He might have gone on taking notes for an hour, but that would only have added to his uncertainty. He patted the little pile of books before him, as if to gain time. “Yes,” he said, "I think that will do very nicely. It takes a good deal of —of time and trouble to—to write < a good story. Of course —of course, you've never written a story.” , "No.” The man did not share Parkers curiosity. . , Parker laughed as if the question had been quite unnecessary. “I suppose not. If you had, you would understand, er—yen would quite understand my anxiety—” He stopped at the word. It painfully recalled his., position, and he wondered what he was going to do. lie felt distinctly nervous. If he could only reach that button under the table! It was so very near, and yet as far away as a North Pole. Then the question of the door reasserted itself. There didn t seem much use pressing the button while the door was locked. He got up from his chair with some ostentation. As he did so, he deteimined to reach the door in some subtle fashion. He recalled that subtle things were always the most effective, and he concluded to be subtle. “Yes, I think that will be enough!” Then he gaily started a little to the door. “You can go out this way, he said, “if you want to.” Parker lelt some astonishment that the man made no move. He only looked at him quietly. •‘Wouldn’t you rather go out the front door? I think you would.” He covered the three feet between him and the key, and turned it in the lock. The man got up from the table. "1 know how to go out! he said gruffly. Parker came back to the centre of the room. “Suit yourself, my friend.” He felt quite generous as he said it. Then ho took out his keys. Since the door was safely unlocked, he felt thaUie had solved the greater part of the situation. It was now the crisis. Put- he must continue to be subtle. He went back to the table, "Twenty-five dollars! I think that’s about all I have, anyway. So you'll get my • treasury,” he laughed cheerfully, "just tho same.” . “I'd make a nice sight going out the front door!” the man exclaimed cynically. "I should think the window would be : just as bad.” Parker responded. He was compelled to force the good nature in !us ■ tone, as the look in the man’s eye was becoming distinctly disagreeable. It was ; very different from his expression before he unlocked the door. Perhaps he had : not bien so subtle about it, after all. He • almost regretted having unlocked the i door. Put it was done now, and there was no use thinking about what might ■ have been in the matter. _ )f "It was twenty-five, wasn t it? lit! 1 looked at the man questioningly. "Yes, that was it. I’ve got my cash here. ’ He got down a little upon his knees to unlock the bottom drawer. It was his op- - /portunity, at last; a second of excite•’meat, and he shook with it. The bridge of the desk under which was the button was just above his head. But it was miles into space just the same. He shook ’ his key by way. of respite; then, aban- ' cloning himself to whatever fate was > ahead, reached up to the button and • pressed it. As ho did so, the man started violently and sfiatchcd up his gun. *T saw you do that I” he said. "I saw you do that! You haven’t^ played fair!” 1 ” The burning sensation came back into Parker's forehead, though he knew_ the table was between him and the pistol. ■ He stood up without having unlocked the drawer. “You’re no author, either, are you? Ol course not. You’re nothing but a four--1 flusher, and a bad one at that! , Unlocked the door so I could go out—down : the front steps!” He laughed unpleasantly. “Well, I may be a thief, but you’re 1 a cur; what’s the difference? You’ve rung for those people. Well, when they come, you can tell them I’ve gone. It’s up io you now to show me what’s in you! I played fair; now, see what you can do. Do vou hear?” He stood very still, and looked at Parker straight into the eyes, then went into the window • and hid behind a curtain. When the excited members of the household arrived, Parker made sufficient explanation. He said something about an accident as he was putting away his books. He was tremendously sorry to have, bothered any one, and promised that it would not happen again. When they were gone he closed the door and went to the centre of the room. The man cams from behind the curtain. He looked at Parker cynically. “You could make a story out of this,

all light!” he said. “Bah! You make me tick! Wcllj I hcul chcincc to bo honest for once in my life, and I swal-' lowed it —from you!’ ( Parker took out his pocketbook. 1 owe you —he began; then he counteo. out five bills. The man stood still a moment, came forward, and took them, his gun still in his hand. He counted the bills carefully. “All right, governor—all there. Thanks. You’re game, even if you did —crawl a little. I don’t suppose some guys would be so square.” He edged to the window, putting his revolver into his pocket ‘ You don’t need any advice from me about burglars, so I won’t give you any. Good night!”