"It seems sort of a pity not to get away with all this stuff," said the burglar, rattling the objects in his pocket. "It ain't professional. I'm beginnin' to change my mind about bein' arrested, Mr. Yollop: I know a girl that would be tickled to death to have these things to splash around in. She's a peach of a--say, I believe I'll use your telephone again. I'll call her up and see how she feels about it. If she says she'd like to have 'em, I'll make my getaway before the cops--" "You will find the telephone directory hanging on the end of the desk, Cassius," said Mr. Yollop graciously. He was seated in the big arm chair again, wriggling his toes delightedly in the cozy, fleece lined bed-room slippers. "But are you not afraid she will be annoyed if you get her out of bed this time o' night? It's after three." "I know the number. Yes, she'll be sore at first, but--Hello Central?" He lowered his voice almost to a whisper, so that Mr. Yollop could not hear. "Give me Plaza 00100. Right." Turning to Mr. Yollop, he announced as he sank back into the chair comfortably: "It's an apartment. We'll probably have quite a long wait. I've found it takes some little time to wake the head of the house and get him to the 'phone. And say, he's the darndest grouch I've ever tackled. Get's sore as a crab. But we've got him where we want him. He knows darned well if he kicks up a row, she'll quit and his wife couldn't get anybody in her place for love or money these days. I was sayin' only the other night--" Again lowering his voice: "Is this Plaza 00100? ... I want to speak to Yilga, please." ... Raising his voice considerably: "Here, now, cut that out! ... Well, it IS important. ... Course, I know what time o' night it is. ... Yes, it's a damned outrage an' all that, but--what? ... All right, I'll hold the wire. Tell her to hustle, will you?" "I wish I had shot you, Smilk, when I had the chance," said Mr. Yollop sadly. "This is abominable, atrocious. Getting a man out of bed at half-past three! It's unspeakable, Smilk!" "She's a light sleeper," mused Mr. Smilk aloud, dreamily. "What say?" "Don't bother me. I'm thinkin'!" Mr. Yollop waited a moment. "What are you thinking about, Cassius?" Cassius started. "... Eh? I was thinkin' about the last time I had breakfast at Mr. Johnson's apartment. It was that terrible cold morning the first of last week. By gosh, how that girl can cook! Six fried eggs and--yes? Hello!" Plaza 00100: "Yilga's not in yet." Smilk, sharply: "What's that?" Plaza 00100: "She's out." Smilk, sharply: "Out? Come off! You can't put that sort of stuff over me--" Plaza 00100: "I tell you she's not in. That's all. And say, don't call up this apartment again at--" Smilk: "Say, it's nearly four o'clock. She must be in." Plaza 00100: "She's not in, I tell you. She went out last evening with her young man. One of the other maids stuck her head out of her door and told me." Smilk, with fallen jaw: "What--what time do you expect her in?"