“I won't give any trouble,” said Mr. Travers, who began to think it was time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. “Why don't you call for help? I'll go like a lamb.” “I don't want your advice,” was the reply. “I know what to do. Now, don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of the window, but I've got the other one for you if you move.” “My dear _girl_,” protested the horrified Mr. Travers, “you'll alarm the neighbourhood.” “Just what I want to do,” said the voice. “Keep still, mind.” Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in any case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be disclosed. “Stop!” he said, earnestly. “Don't do anything rash. I'm not a burglar; I'm doing this for a friend of yours—Mr. Benn.” “_What?_” said an amazed voice. “True as I stand here,” asseverated Mr. Travers. “Here, here's my instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the back window you'll see him in the garden waiting.” He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched from his fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening to the startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read the boatswain's permit: “_This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of sound mind and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to be a burglar at Mrs. Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and I shall be outside all the time. It's all above-board and ship-shape._ “_(Signed) George Benn_” “Sound mind—above-board—ship-shape,” repeated a dazed voice. “_Where is he?_” “Out at the back,” replied Mr. Travers. “If you go to the window you can see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a good girl.” There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what seemed a long time, and then the board creaked again. “Did you see him?” he inquired. “I did,” was the sharp reply. “You both ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You ought to be punished.” “There _is_ a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head,” remarked Mr. Travers. “What are you going to do?” There was no reply. “What are you going to do?” repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat uneasily. “You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as I can judge through this crack.” There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody moving hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily donned. “You ought to have done it before,” commented the thoughtful Mr. Travers. “It's enough to give you your death of cold.” “Mind your business,” said the voice, sharply. “Now, if I let you out, will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?” “Honour bright,” said Mr. Travers, fervently. “I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget,” proceeded the other, grimly. “I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down and tell him I've killed you.” “_Eh?_” said the amazed Mr. Travers. “Oh, Lord!”