"Not a bit of it," returned the Idiot. "I got the idea from a Boston girl. Once when she and her sister-in-law found themselves alone at night in a huge country-house they were suddenly overcome with fear of burglars, and rather than run any personal risk from the midnight marauder they left a big card on top of the safe inscribed with these words: 'Dear Sir,--The combination of this safe is 11-16-91. There is nothing in it. If you must have our silver, call at the Shawmut Safe Deposit Company, where it is now stored.' The two girls were cousins of mine." The Schoolmaster smiled again. "There must be a streak of your particular kind of genius running all through your family," said he. "True--there is," said the Idiot. "I'm not the only Idiot in my tribe." "And the second burglar. How about him?" asked Mr. Pedagog. "Oh, he was easy," said the Idiot. "I compromised with him. You see, I met him on his way out. I was coming home late, and just as I arrived he was leaving. I invited him back, lit the gas in the dining-room, and asked him to join me in a bit of cold tongue and a bottle of beer. He tried to shuffle out of it, but when I said I preferred to reason with him rather than have him arrested he sat down, and we talked the situation over. I discovered that for about three hundred dollars' worth of my stuff that he had in a bag slung over his shoulder he might get as much as fifty dollars, and at great risk. I showed him how foolish that was, and offered to give him forty dollars if he'd leave the stuff, so saving me two hundred and sixty dollars, and avoiding all trouble for himself. He didn't like it at first, but under the genial influence of the beer and the cold tongue and my conversation he finally yielded, and walked out of my house with a check drawn to bearer for forty dollars in his pocket." "I am astonished at you!" cried Mr. Pedagog. "You compounded a felony." "Not exactly," said the Idiot. "I should have done so if I hadn't stopped payment on the check the next day." "Oh," said Mr. Pedagog, "I see!" "All I lost was the revenue-stamp on the check," said the Idiot. "And did you ever hear from the man again?" "Yes," observed the Idiot. "I met him on the train a day or two later--sat next to him in the smoking-car, in fact." "And did he know you?" "Yes. We had a very pleasant chat going to town. He said he was moving away from here. He couldn't stand it, he said. He was going to work in some new field where a man could get living pay for his work. Said he'd been robbed by some of our best people; what's the use of working for nothing? he asked. The poor man was kept down, and all that sort of talk." "And you parted friends?"