"Yas--I mean you,--in the white pants," he replied, looking with great scorn at Mr. Daddles's duck trousers, "I've heard how you perfessional crooks git boys to climb up on water spouts an' let yer in. I seen yer jest after yer passed my place, an' I knowed what yer was up to." "Well, you are quite wrong,--you're way off," said Mr. Daddles, very seriously. "I don't suppose it will do any good, but it will save you people from making yourselves ridiculous. It's all true, --what I told you. I thought we were getting into Mr. Peabody's house, and he IS my uncle. See here,--do you think we LOOK like burglars?" "Can't tell what yer look like," said a man, "'we caught yer in--" "In partiseps criminy," said Gregory the Gauger, "that's what it was. An' whatever you look like, you'll look different tomorrer mornin'. I don't cal'late you know anything about breakin' an' enterin' Dr. Bigelow's last night?" "No, we don't. We weren't here last night." "Course not, course not. Nor about bustin' into the Ellis place last Sat'day night?" "No, nor about that either." "Course not!" The men who were holding Ed Mason had been seized with the idea of searching him. So they made Ed turn out his pockets in the hope of finding some stolen goods. They examined the jack-knife, cork- stopper with three fish-hooks in it, and lead sinker which they found, and argued whether this was plunder from the house or not. Then they started to search the rest of us, and we all had to empty our pockets. Not until they came to the pound-cake, in Jimmy Toppan's pocket, did they find anything of consequence, and as he admitted that he had taken that from the house, they felt that they had made a real discovery. They handed it over to the pitchfork man. "Here, Eb," said Gregory the Gauger, "yer want to keep this--it's everdence." At this moment one of the policemen put his head out the window, and Eb promptly dropped the cake, and grabbed the policeman by the shoulder, remarking: "I thought there was another one on ye!" Then he tried to drag the policeman out of the window by force. The policeman planted his feet firmly, and, as he weighed about three hundred pounds, he successfully resisted all efforts to drag him. "What in thunder you tryin' to do?" he asked in a high, squeaky voice. "TRYIN' TO DO? I'll show ye,--resistin' a officer! Here, Justin, give us a hand here, won't ye?" In the meantime the policeman was blowing a whistle to summon his mate. Eb stooped down again, and he and the policeman looked in each other's faces,--their noses only half an inch apart. Eb had seen the brass buttons. "Be you a officer?" "You'll find out whether I am or not!" said the furious policeman, standing up and blowing his whistle again. "Then watcher doin' here?" "I'm here mindin' my own business,--I was sent here to look after this house--orders of the Chief. Who in thunder are you?"