not attempting to struggle.

Jimmy half rose and, pulling his prisoner by inches to the door, felt up the wall till he found the electric-light button.

The yellow glow which flooded the room disclosed a short, stocky youth of obviously Bowery extraction. A shock of vivid red hair was the first thing about him that caught the eye. A poet would have described it as Titian. Its proprietor’s friends and acquaintances probably called it “carrots”. Looking up at Jimmy from under this wealth of crimson was a not unpleasing face. It was not handsome certainly, but there were suggestions of a latent good-humour. The nose had been broken at one period of its career, and one of the ears was undeniably of the cauliflower type; but these are little accidents which may happen to any high-spirited young gentleman. In costume the visitor had evidently been guided rather by individual taste than by the dictates of fashion. His coat was of rusty-black, his trousers of grey, picked out with stains of various colours. Beneath the coat was a faded red-and-white sweater. A hat of soft felt lay on the floor by the table.

The cut of the coat was poor, and the sit of it spoiled by a bulge in one of the pockets. Diagnosing this bulge correctly, Jimmy inserted his hand and drew out a dingy revolver.

“Well?” he said, rising.

Like most people, he had often wondered what he should do if he were to meet a burglar; and he had always come to the conclusion that curiosity would be his chief emotion. His anticipations had proved perfectly correct. Now that he had abstracted his visitor’s gun he had no wish to do anything but engage him in conversation. A burglar’s life was something so entirely outside his experience. He wanted to learn the burglar’s point of view. Incidentally, he reflected with amusement, as he recalled his wager, he might pick up a few useful hints.

The man on the floor sat up and rubbed the back of his head ruefully.

“Gee!” he muttered. “I t’ought some guy had t’rown de building at me.”

“It was only little me,” said Jimmy. “Sorry if I hurt you at all. You really want a mat for that sort of thing.”

The man’s hand went furtively to his pocket. Then his eye caught sight of the revolver, which Jimmy had placed on the table. With a sudden dash he seized it.

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