sed a pretty scene the other day in a suburban
drawing-room...." It might begin like that.

William followed the amazing figure round the house again to the
library window. Here it turned to him with a friendly grin.

"I'm just goin' to 'ave that look round upstairs now. See?" he said.
"An' once more, yer don't need ter say nothin' to no one. See?"

With the familiar, beloved gesture he drew his old cap down over his
eyes, and was gone.

William wandered upstairs a few minutes later to find his visitor
standing at the landing window, his pockets bulging.

"I'm goin' to try this 'ere window, young gent," he said in a quick,
business-like voice. "I see yer pa coming in at the front gate. Give
me a shove. Quick, nar."

Mr. Brown entered the drawing-room.

"Mulroyd's had his house burgled now," he said. "Every bit of his
wife's jewellery gone. They've got some clues, though. It's a gang all
right, and one of them is a chap without ears. Grows his hair long to
hide it. But it's a clue. The police are hunting for him."

He looked in amazement at the horror-stricken faces before him. Mrs.
Brown sat down weakly.

"Ethel, my smelling salts! They're on the mantel-piece."

Robert grew pale.

"Good Lord--my silver cricket cup," he gasped, racing upstairs.

The landing window had been too small, and Mr. Blank too big, though
William did his best.

There came to the astounded listeners the sound of a fierce scuffle,
then Robert descended, his hair rumpled and his tie awry, holding
William by the arm. William looked pale and apprehensive. "He was
there," panted Robert, "just getting out of the window. He chucked the
things out of his pockets and got away. I couldn't stop him. And--and
William was there----"

William's face assumed the expression of one who is prepared for the
worst.

"The plucky little chap! Struggling with him! Trying to pull him back
from the window! All by himself!"

"I _wasn't_," cried William excitedly. "I was _helping_ him. He's _my
friend_. I----"

But they heard not a word. They crowded round him, praised him, shook
hands with him, asked if he was hurt. Mrs. de Vere Carter kept up one
perpetual scream of delight and congratulation.

"The _dear_ boy! The little _pet_! How _brave_! What _courage_! What
an _example_ to us all! And the horrid, wretched man! Posing as a
_hero_. Wangling himself into the sweet child's confidence. Are you
hurt, my precious? Did the nasty man hurt you? You _dar