"Oh, Dicky Thompson," soliloquised the burglar, "this explains a good deal. We all marvelled at your luck, for we knew you didn't deserve it. You once sold me a spavined mare. If this isn't retribution I don't know what is. Now, Carder, let's get to bed. You must give me a shakedown somewhere. We've to be very spry and early to-morrow. There's our partnership to fix up first thing, and I've to show these cigars at the Burglars' Club in the evening, and on Saturday I sail for South America with this precious document and a sharp legal practitioner. And I'll take your revolver with me in case the lawyer gets hoarse. Oh, I was forgetting. A telegram form, please. Where do you bank? County and City. Right. It's nine thousand you want, isn't it? Right again." The burglar filled up the form, counted his words, took the necessary stamps from his pocket book, and affixed them. "Now, we'll just drop this in the first pillar-box we meet, and by the time we've signed our partnership there'll be enough at the County and City to meet your payments." Sir John looked at him admiringly. "Are there many as smart as you at the Burglars' Club?" he asked. "Smarter," said the burglar modestly. "I'm about the clumsiest of the lot. Some day I'll tell you how Ribston stole the Bishop of Bister's crozier, and then you'll know why he is generally all there in the House. But come along now. All right; you close up and put the lights out. I'll take a short cut, and be waiting outside." It was fully five minutes before Sir John had locked up his papers and had put on his coat. As he emerged from his warehouse door he was promptly collared by a policeman, while another seized him firmly from behind. A third was in possession of the handcuffed burglar, and an inspector stood by with a box of cigars under his arm. "Pore old pard!" said the burglar, with ostentatious sympathy. "They've nabbed us both at larst." "Now come along quietly, will you?" said the first policeman to the struggling knight. "Leave go!" shouted his indignant charge. "I'm Sir John Carder." The policeman laughed derisively, but something in the voice made the inspector flash his light on him. "Sir John it is," he gasped. The policemen released their hold, and gazed ruefully at their late prisoner. "What do you mean by this, Markham?" demanded Sir John. "Very sorry, sir. Hope you'll overlook it. We caught this chap red-handed, and he said he was working the job with a pal who was tidying things up a bit." "Well, he was quite right. He is a friend of mine." The inspector was more astonished than ever. "He came through one of the packing-room windows, Sir John," he expostulated, "and he had a boxful of cigars in his pocket." "Not full, inspector," said the burglar, sadly. "I told you my friend would explain matters, but you wouldn't listen." "Release him," said Sir John.