"You bet they wouldn't," said he. "If I swore on a stack of bibles I let a boob like you take it away from me, they'd send me to Matteawan, and God knows,--" "Come in!" called out Mr. Yollop. The door opened and a plump, dumpy lady in a pink peignoir, her front hair done up in curl-papers stood revealed on the threshold blinking in the strong light. "Goodness gracious, Crittenden," she cried irritably, "don't you know what time of night it--" She broke off abruptly as Mr. Smilk, with a great clatter, yanked his remaining foot from the drawer and arose, overturning the swivel-chair in his haste. "Well, for the love of--" oozed from his gaping mouth. Suddenly he turned his face away and hunched one shoulder up as a sort of shield. "It's long past three o'clock," went on the newcomer severely. "I'm sorry to interrupt a conference but I do think you might arrange for an appointment during the day, sir. My brother has not been well and if ever a man needed sleep and rest and regular hours, he does. Crittenden, I wish you--" "Cassius," interrupted Mr. Yollop urbanely, "this is my sister, Mrs. Champney. I want you to repeat--Turn around here, can't you? What's the matter with you?" "Don't order me around like that," muttered Mr. Smilk, still with his face averted. "I've got the gun now and I'll do as I damn' please. You can't talk to me like--" "Goodness! Who is this man?" cried the lady, stopping short to regard the blasphemer with shocked, disapproving eyes. "And what is he doing with a revolver in his hand?" "Give me that pistol,--at once," commanded Mr. Yollop. "Hand it over!" "Not on your life," cried Mr. Smilk triumphantly. He faced Mrs. Champney. "Take off them rings, you. Put 'em here on the desk. Lively, now! And don't yelp! Do you get me? DON'T YELP!" Mrs. Champney stared unblinkingly, speechless. "Put up your hands, Yollop!" ordered Mr. Smilk. "Why,--why, it's Ernest,--Ernest Wilson," she gasped, incredulously. Then, with a little squeak of relief: "Don't pay any attention to him, Crittenden. He is a friend of mine. Don't you remember me, Ernest? I am--" "You bet your life I remember you," said the burglar softly, almost purringly. "Ernest your grandmother," cried Mr. Yollop jerking the disk first one way and then the other in order to catch the flitting duologue. "His name is Smilk,--Cassius Smilk." "Nothing of the sort," said Mrs. Champney sharply. "It's Ernest Wilson,--isn't it, Ernest?" "Take off them rings," was the answer she got. "What is this man doing here, Crittenden?" demanded Mrs. Champney, paying no heed to Smilk's command. "He's a burglar," replied Mr. Yollop. "I guess you'd better take off your rings, Alice." "Do you mean to tell me, Ernest Wilson, that you've gone back to your evil ways after all I,--" "I say, Cassius," cried Mr. Yollop, "is this the woman you wanted to bind and gag and--and--" "Yes, and rap over the bean," finished Mr. Smilk, as the speaker considerately refrained.