Neither one of us knew enough about safes to feel sure of opening one even when we had the numbers. Smiler knew a chap doing time in the penitentiary who knew all about safes. The “stir” was only a mile out of the city and we decided to go up and get some expert advice. Next day we visited the expert at the “stir,” who gladly gave us instructions and declared himself in with any money we got. That night Smiler opened the box as easily as if it belonged to him and locked it again. We got but a few hundred dollars where we expected several thousands. The new owners had no bankroll, just opened up on a shoestring, hoping to get off lucky and win. The next morning they accused each other of the theft, almost fought with pistols, and dissolved partnership, calling each other thieves. The money was split three ways. The expert at the “stir” took his bit with bad grace, intimating that we got more than we were dividing, and that we were thieves. As we were leaving, Smiler said: “Good-by, ‘Shorty.’ Everything’s all right now, ain’t it?” “Oh, sure,” he grouched. “Everything’s all right—just like Denmark.” “Kid, we’ll go up to that joint and give them a chance to win their money back,” said Smiler. “I feel lucky.” We went up, but they were closed and we had to go elsewhere to gamble. The habit had fastened on him. He became a fiend for gambling. When his money was gone I let him play mine in, and he kept us broke. In a few days the money from our last venture was gone, and we were sparring about for more. The oldest and commonest system of the house burglar in locating money and jewelry is to stand about theaters, cafés, and the better shops, watching their patrons and following them home if they display wealth. Smiler and I followed a woman and man to their home one night from the theater. The woman wore enough diamonds to stun any thief or pawnbroker. They went into a well-kept, two-story house, back in a big yard full of trees and shrubs, only a dozen blocks from the main street. They let themselves in with a key and appeared to be the only occupants of the place. We looked the spot over for several days and evenings. There was a servant girl about the place, but no children and no dogs. This was good. Children, particularly young ones, often need attention in the night, which interferes with the prowler. Dogs, young or old, are the bane of the burglar’s life. A dog inside a house where people are sleeping prohibits burglary, and the smaller he is, the louder he prohibits. So far as we could see, the place looked made to order for us. House burglars customarily work single-handed. Two men prowling about in a house in the dark are apt to get confused if any one wakes up, and shoot each other. It has happened.