visit
to a certain house just outside the walls of the city. It was an easy
one to get in to without any danger of being observed, for it was in a
quiet street, where passers-by are very few after dark. It was a
gloomy place after sunset, for the high walls that looked down upon it
threw deep and heavy shadows, which faint-hearted people declare are
really unhappy and restless ghosts prowling about to harass and
distress the unwary.

"It was a little after midnight, when with stealthy footsteps I crept
along the narrow streets, keeping as much as I could under cover of the
houses, where the darkness lay deepest. Every home was hushed in
slumber. The only things that really troubled me were the dogs, which,
with an intelligence far greater than that of their masters, suspected
me of some evil purpose, and barked at me and made wild snaps at my
legs. I managed, however, to evade them and finally to arrive at the
house I intended to rob.

"When I got close up to it, I was surprised to find a light burning
inside. There was another thing, too, that I could not understand, and
this was that a little side door by which I had planned to enter had
not been bolted, but had been left ajar so that any prowling robber
could easily gain admittance through it. Taking off my shoes, I walked
on tiptoe along the stone-paved courtyard in the direction of the room
where the light was burning, and

[Transcriber's note: pages 13 and 14 missing from source book]

have had his heart lightened of the load that was weighing it down if I
could only have had the opportunity of whispering a single sentence
into his ear."

"It is your duty," interposed his guest, "to proceed to-morrow morning
to the mandarin's yamen, and tell your story to the county magistrate,
so that a great wrong may not go unpunished."

"That I can never do," promptly replied the man. "What do you think
would happen were I to do what you suggest? I am a thief. I get my
living by thieving. I was in the house on the night of the murder for
the purpose of robbery. That would all come out when I give my
evidence. After I had proved the murder, what would become of me? I
should be cast into prison, and I might have to lie there for years,
for who would ever bail out a thief? And then my poor mother would
starve, for she has to depend on me entirely for her living, and she
would be compelled to go on the streets and beg for charity from door
to door. No, it i