Chapter V: Front Matter (5)

"Is not the sympathy to which you allude confined to murderers, especially those who kill their wives?"

"As a rule, yes," admitted Graham; "but the people, who have sympathy for murderers, generally have such a superabundance that they can spare some for us. I have known burglars to receive six bouquets in a single day, and from real ladies, too."

"I am afraid," said Mr. Braithwait, with a smile, "that the sympathy extended with such small discretion has little market value. But let us pass that by and glance at the disagreeable side of your profession. For instance, this night you have walked from the city, the nearest point of which is three miles."

"We come four," growled Baxter.

"Well, four; and four back is eight. It could not have been a pleasant walk, as the night is cloudy and the roads are heavy from recent rains."

"There warn't no choice," said Baxter, savagely. "We _had_ to walk."

"There it is," said Mr. Braithwait, triumphantly, "you _had_ to walk. Now, I don't have to walk; I ride in the train or my carriage at any hour of the day or night. No honest man has to walk, if he has money--and, of course, you have."

"The point," admitted Mr. Graham, reluctantly, "is well taken."

"I feel certain of it. Nor is this the only instance in which your pleasure is marred by fear. The very fame for which you strive is a constant bar to your enjoyment. If you take lodging at a hotel you are ejected; you may be refused admittance to any respectable theatre; in any place of entertainment, except the very lowest, you cannot make a new acquaintance for fear he may be a detective plotting your capture; you are compelled to eat, drink, and sleep among vile associates and vulgar surroundings; and all for a pitiful three thousand a year! By heaven! it is worth thirty!"

"You use strong language, sir," exclaimed the youngest burglar, rising and pacing the floor in an agitated way.

"I do," admitted the master of the house, "because my business sense is outraged by your stupidity."

"Stupidity!" echoed Graham, sharply.

"That is the word," returned Mr. Braithwait, sternly. "Your profession requires acuteness, courage, skill, caution, and endurance. Gentlemen, these are admirable traits, and with them you might be anything but burglars. The banking institutions, railways, private and civic corporations, are eager for such men; they pay them large wages and grant them great privileges. The governments, State and National, want such men, and are looking for them, while they are skulking through city alleys or walking miry roads at midnight. Gentlemen, with all your qualifications, you lack the one essential to success--common sense."

"Permit me," said Graham, leaning over the table and speaking with much force, "to call your attention to the fact that we are bright enough to keep society eternally on the defensive."

"Granted," said Mr. Braithwait.

"Small in numbers though we are, we necessitate the employment of a police force in every village, town, and city in the Union, to say nothing of special constables and private watchmen. We force every bank and corporation to sink thousands in costly safes, locks, and other safeguards, and no householder is ever free from apprehension on our account. We are one against many, so to speak, but we make the many tremble! Could we exercise this power without brains?"

"Ay! could we?" supplemented Montgomery, with flashing eyes.

"Granted again," said Mr. Braithwait, cheerfully, "but quite foreign to the point at issue. Society is terrorized through its inertness, and when society enters on an active warfare you gentlemen cannot make a show of resistance. And even under our present policy of passive resistance there is but one thing that will save a criminal from the eventual clutch of the law, and that is--death."

The youngest burglar turned white and Baxter cursed softly.

"You cannot, with all your brightness, commit a crime without leaving a trace," went on Mr. Braithwait, impassively, "and every modern appliance is a stumbling-block in your path. The modern bank safe, equipped with time-locks, is impregnable; the electric light has made our streets as safe by night as day; and the telegraph has lengthened the arm of justice until it encircles the globe."

"And yet," retorted Graham, with a slight sneer, "_you_ have been robbed."

"And yet I have been robbed," repeated Mr. Braithwait, calmly. "Without interfering sadly with my comfort and ease, I cannot make my house a bank or surround myself with an army of watchmen. And I don't like dogs. So I have been robbed. Yet"--Mr. Braithwait looked Mr. Graham quietly in the eye--"yet I am not entirely defenceless."

"Hello!" said Baxter, breathing hard. "Have you been up to somethin'?"

"You shall judge whether I have rightly accused you of lack of common sense. Before attacking this house, did you make yourself acquainted with the surroundings?"

"I did," answered Graham, confidently.

"Do you know that I am a railroad man?"

"Certainly."

"Did you notice a wire running through the woods at the rear of my house?"

"No!" cried Graham, violently.

"A strange oversight on your part. Very stupid. It is a telephone wire, and leads from my chamber above to my office in the city. Now for the application of my remarks. From the moment of your entrance I was aware of your movements, and instantly explained the situation to the night operator. He, of course, notified the police----"

"And while you kept us engaged in conversation--" cried Graham, advancing threateningly.

"The police were coming on a special train to my assistance," said Mr. Braithwait, taking a second cigar.

"Damn you!" exclaimed Baxter, threateningly.

"Stop!" cried Graham, interposing. "We have no time for that. Let us run!"

"Don't!" said the host, warningly. "The house is surrounded, and you will certainly be shot. Accept the situation, as I did. You gentlemen have been my guests this evening, and I have been highly entertained. May I hope that the pleasure has been mutual?"

Before anyone could answer, the door leading to the woodshed was thrown open, and four policemen appeared on the threshold. Montgomery sank helplessly into a chair. Baxter made a dash for the door, while Graham remained impassive, but all were alike handcuffed expeditiously.

"Sir," said Graham, taking a cigar from the box, "our misfortune is directly due to the uncontrollable appetite of our companion, but none the less I congratulate you upon your ingenuity."

"Thanks," said Mr. Braithwait. "Did I not tell you that you were stupid?"

Mr. Graham bowed.

"You have taught us a lesson," he said gravely. "I think it is time to abandon the business."

"Well, I'll be----" Baxter gasped, and could say no more.

"We are disgraced!" exclaimed the youngest burglar, bitterly.

Mr. Braithwait waved his hand.

"I am sleepy," he said, with a yawn. "Gentlemen, good-night; I will see you again--in court."

STRANGER THAN FICTION.

UNPUBLISHED CHAPTERS FROM "THE BRONTES IN IRELAND."

BY DR. WILLIAM WRIGHT.