"I'd settle him," muttered Baxter, surlily. "You're a savage, Jim," said Graham, reproachfully. "How often have I told you that there is no virtue in violence. Haven't I convinced you that the easy way is the safe way?" "Yah! Don't give me no more of that!" said Baxter, contemptuously. "I ain't no missionary." At this juncture, when the argument threatened to develop into a quarrel, peace was restored by the reappearance of the young burglar, carrying a considerable quantity of jewelry, loose and in boxes, while he softly whistled "M'Appari." "Not a bad haul," observed Graham, turning over the plunder as it lay on the table. "_Two_ watches?" "They're them little tickers what the girls carry," said Baxter, scornfully. "We won't get two dollars apiece for 'em." "Won't we, though!" said Graham, smiling. "They are gold, and there is an inscription on each; that means a fancy reward, or I don't know human feminine nature. Two brooches, a necklace--h'm--h'm--very good, indeed." "There was no money," remarked Harry, adjusting his necktie before the mirror, and giving his small blonde mustache a curl. "I expected as much," commented Graham, storing away the trinkets in his pockets. "Braithwait has a hundred with him, I dare say, but it isn't worth the risk. If we kill a man in the city it's soon forgotten, but in the suburbs it creates a regular panic. The neighbors hire detectives and follow a man all over creation, and you can't buy them off or compromise the matter--money is no object. That's why I keep telling Jim--" "Let up, will ye!" exclaimed Baxter, roughly. "I ain't killin' nobody, am I?" "Certainly not; but I only say----" [Illustration: "I AIN'T NO MISSIONARY!"] "Say nothin'! where's the feed box?" Mr. Graham groaned, and looked at his young accomplice in comical alarm. "I knew how it would be! Jim, these luncheons will be the ruin of us all some night." "Can't help it," retorted Baxter, doggedly. "It's a good four-mile walk from the city and as much back, and we hadn't anything but a snack for supper. A man's got to eat, and when I'm hungry----" "Well, well," said the other, with a gesture of impatience, "if it must be, it must. Harry, see to the wine, and we will find the substantials. Now, Jim, _do_ be careful of the dishes, and _don't_ grunt and puff while you're eating. It's vulgar." Jim Baxter grunted and puffed at this, but made no other reply as he busied himself spreading the contents of the refrigerator on the dining-room table, while Harry from the sideboard produced a decanter of whiskey and three bottles of claret. There was a nice piece of cold ham, some tongue, cheese and pickles, bread and butter, anchovies and sardines, a bottle of olives, and the remains of an oyster pie. "Quite a lay-out," remarked Baxter, with a ravenous chuckle. "D'ye remember the house at Barleytown where there wasn't nothin' but graham crackers and winegar in the box?" "I should say so," exclaimed Graham, with a look of disgust.