“Aha! That's just it--the average house!” cried the inventor. “This isn't the average house, Griggs. The burglar who tries to get into this particular house is distinctly up against it!” “Indeed?” “Yes, sir! The crook that attempts a nocturnal entrance here has my sincere and heartfelt sympathy.” “Hawkins' Patent Automatic Burglar Alarm?” I suggested. “What the deuce are you sneering at?” snapped the inventor. “No, there's no patent burglar alarm in this house.” “Hawkins' Steel Dynamite-Proof Shutters?” Hawkins ignored the remark and busied himself lighting a cigar. “Hawkins' Triple-Expansion Spring-Gun?” I hazarded once more. “Oh, drop it! Drop it!” cried Hawkins. “Positively, Griggs, your efforts at humor disgust one. In some ways, you are as bad as a woman. Go back and sit with the Executive Committee.” “What's the connection?” “Why, the thing I expected to show you in a few minutes is the very same one which my wife fought against for two weeks, before she let me put it into operation peacefully!” Hawkins burst out. “There's where the connection comes in between your degenerate little wits and those of the generality of women.” “If it was an invention, I don't blame your wife one little bit, Hawkins,” I said. “I can see just how she must have felt about----” “There's the evening paper, if you want to read,” spat forth the inventor, poking the sheet across the library table. Therewith he turned his back squarely upon me and settled down to a book. It wasn't polite of Hawkins. Indeed, after a short space the situation waxed distinctly uncomfortable; and although I am pretty well accustomed to the inventor's moods, I must admit that in another five minutes I should have cleared out had it not been for a rather unexpected happening. Hawkins was sitting near the window--in fact, his chair brushed the hangings. As I sat gazing pensively at the back of his neck, a sudden breeze swayed the curtains above him. There was an undue amount of swishing overhead, it seemed to me. Something near the top of the window, and concealed by the hangings, rattled distinctly; simultaneously a gong struck sharply somewhere up-stairs. Hawkins whirled about, a most remarkable expression on his lately sullen countenance. As nearly as I could analyze it, it was a mixture of joy, excitement, and trembling expectancy. “One!” he exclaimed. The bell struck again. “Two!” cried Hawkins. “By Jove! That's----” Crash! Out of the curtains something dropped heavily on the inventor! For an instant it held the appearance of a grain sack, but there was something distinctly solid about it, too, for it dealt Hawkins a resounding whack upon his cranium before it rolled to the floor. “Phew!” he gasped, sinking back into his chair caressing the bump with an unsteady hand. “That--that did startle me, Griggs!” “I shouldn't wonder,” I smiled. “What on earth did you have concealed up there?” “Aha! You'd never guess,” remarked Hawkins, his ill-humor departed.