How long she remained alone in the attic she never knew, but finally she heard the catlike tread of the returning bandits and saw them coming up the stairs in single file. All bore heavy loads of plunder in their arms, and Lugui was balancing a mince pie on the top of a pile of her mother’s best evening dresses. Victor came next with an armful of bric-a-brac, a brass candelabra and the parlor clock. Beni had the family Bible, the basket of silverware from the sideboard, a copper kettle and papa’s fur overcoat. “Oh, joy!” said Victor, putting down his load; “it is pleasant to rob once more.” “Oh, ecstacy!” said Beni; but he let the kettle drop on his toe and immediately began dancing around in anguish, while he muttered queer words in the Italian language. “We have much wealth,” continued Victor, holding the mince pie while Lugui added his spoils to the heap; “and all from one house! This America must be a rich place.” With a dagger he then cut himself a piece of the pie and handed the remainder to his comrades. Whereupon all three sat upon the floor and consumed the pie while Martha looked on sadly. “We should have a cave,” remarked Beni; “for we must store our plunder in a safe place. Can you tell us of a secret cave?” he asked Martha. “There’s a Mammoth cave,” she answered, “but it’s in Kentucky. You would be obliged to ride on the cars a long time to get there.” The three bandits looked thoughtful and munched their pie silently, but the next moment they were startled by the ringing of the electric doorbell, which was heard plainly even in the remote attic. “What’s that?” demanded Victor, in a hoarse voice, as the three scrambled to their feet with drawn daggers. Martha ran to the window and saw it was only the postman, who had dropped a letter in the box and gone away again. But the incident gave her an idea of how to get rid of her troublesome bandits, so she began wringing her hands as if in great distress and cried out: “It’s the police!” The robbers looked at one another with genuine alarm, and Lugui asked, tremblingly: “Are there many of them?” “A hundred and twelve!” exclaimed Martha, after pretending to count them. “Then we are lost!” declared Beni; “for we could never fight so many and live.” “Are they armed?” inquired Victor, who was shivering as if cold. “Oh, yes,” said she. “They have guns and swords and pistols and axes and—and—” “And what?” demanded Lugui. “And cannons!” The three wicked ones groaned aloud and Beni said, in a hollow voice: “I hope they will kill us quickly and not put us to the torture. I have been told these Americans are painted Indians, who are bloodthirsty and terrible.” “’Tis so!” gasped the fat man, with a shudder. Suddenly Martha turned from the window. “You are my friends, are you not?” she asked. “We are devoted!” answered Victor. “We adore you!” cried Beni. “We would die for you!” added Lugui, thinking he was about to die anyway. “Then I will save you,” said the girl.