“We can’t do anything more now,” remarked Larry. “No, and I guess I’ll go home, and go to bed,” said Mr. Newton. “I’m all tired out.” Bidding Larry good-night, Mr. Newton started off down the street. The neighborhood was rather poorly lighted, the lamps being few and far between. Pondering over the strange mix-up he had become involved in, the reporter was proceeding along rather absent-mindedly. Suddenly his attention was attracted by someone in the house opposite him opening a window, and shouting: “Thieves! Murder! Fire! Police!” “That sounds like trouble,” thought Mr. Newton. “I seem to be going to put in a full night of it.” “Help! Help! Help!” the voice, which was that of a woman, continued to yell. “I’m being robbed!” Mr. Newton placed his fingers to his lips, and blew a long, shrill whistle. He thought if there was a policeman in the neighborhood he would hear it, and hurry to the woman’s aid. Meanwhile Mr. Newton decided to do what he could singlehanded. “What’s the trouble?” he inquired. “It’s robbers!” the woman exclaimed. “They are trying to get into my room, and steal my diamonds!” “Are they there now?” “They’re in the house. I heard them run downstairs, and they’re hiding in the dining-room. Oh, please, dear, good, kind Mr. Man, won’t you save me!” “I don’t believe any burglars will remain around long with that screaming going on,” thought Mr. Newton. By this time windows all over the neighborhood were going up, heads were poked out, and half a score of voices asked what the trouble was. One excited man fired his revolver. Several policemen came up on the run, and, seeing Mr. Newton, who was the only person in the street at that time, they all made a dash for him. “We’ve caught you!” one of the bluecoats cried. “So I see,” remarked Mr. Newton, calmly. “What are you going to do with me?” “It’ll be state’s prison for yours,” the officer went on, taking a firmer grip of Mr. Newton’s arm. “He isn’t the one at all!” exclaimed the woman who had given the first alarm. “He was going to capture the burglar for me!” “What burglar?” cried the policemen, in a chorus. “The one in the dining-room!” Mr. Newton rapidly explained what had happened. One of the officers took a closer look at the reporter. “I know him!” the bluecoat exclaimed. “He’s on the _Leader_. Come on, boys, let’s get the burglar!” The officers, thinking there would be a chance to distinguish themselves, went up the steps of the house, the woman having called to them that she would come down, and open the door. When the policemen got inside they made a careful search all over the premises, but could find no burglar. “I’m sure I heard one!” the woman insisted. “You mean you heard a noise,” corrected one of the policemen. “Well, it was just the kind of a noise a burglar would make.” Just then there came a series of thumps from the hall. “There it is again!” cried the woman. “There’s the burglar!” The officers made a rush for the passageway.