e fourth; up
past the windows of the disagreeable Garraways' kitchen below mine, and
then, with the easy grace of a feline, zip! he silently landed within reach
of my hand on my own little iron veranda, and craning his neck to one
side, peered in through the open window and listened intently for two full
minutes.

"Humph!" whispered my inner consciousness to itself. "He is the coolest
thing I've seen since last Christmas left town. I wonder what he is up to?
There's nothing in my apartment worth stealing, now that my wife and
children are away, unless it be my Jap valet, Nogi, who might make a very
excellent cab driver if I could only find words to convey to his mind the
idea that he is discharged."

And then the visitor, apparently having correctly assured himself that
there was no one within, stepped across the window sill and vanished into
the darkness of my kitchen. A moment later I too entered the window in
pursuit, not so close a one, however, as to acquaint him with my proximity.
I wanted to see what the chap was up to; and also being totally unarmed and
ignorant as to whether or not he carried dangerous weapons, I determined to
go slow for a little while. Moreover, the situation was not wholly devoid
of novelty, and it seemed to me that here at last was abundant opportunity
for a new sensation. As he had entered, so did he walk cautiously along the
narrow bowling alley that serves for a hallway connecting my drawing-room
and library with the dining-room, until he came to the library, into which
he disappeared. This was not reassuring to me, because, to tell the truth,
I value my books more than I do my plate, and if I were to be robbed I
should much have preferred his taking my plated plate from the dining-room
than any one of my editions-deluxe sets of the works of Marie Corelli, Hall
Caine, and other standard authors from the library shelves. Once in the
library, he quietly drew the shades at the windows thereof to bar possible
intruding eyes from without, turned on the electric lights, and proceeded
to go through my papers as calmly and coolly as though they were his own.
In a short time, apparently, he found what he wanted in the shape of a
royalty statement recently received by me from my publishers, and, lighting
one of my cigars from a bundle of brevas in front of him, took off his coat
and sat down to peruse the statement of my returns. Simple though it was,
this act aroused the first feeling of resentme