The San Angelo Press

Worried

Flight

of Mice to

Office

Care

but

can

HOWARD FIELDING

The

Mr. Steright, 1904, by Charles W. Hooke

will be

good man

a good representative girl in the world and

teenth district other came into the city

Congress

Tuesday and very obliging

possesses the ed me up in my office

as we just I was not quite at my best

sary to m.

They were so kind as to

of the

as true that I had been over-

express their sympathy.

these

g for a month or more, that my

them

was unsteady and that there

the dark crescents under my eyes us

th

result of strenuous devotion to busi-

ness extending into the midnight hours.

In fact, my attempt to make the most

of a streak of good luck had been so

violent that I was on the verge of col-

lapse. But I made light of it to the

aforementioned young lady and her

mother.

Mrs. Stanwood regarded me with an

almost maternal solicitude.

"I was thinking that you might come

out and stay with us over Sunday." re-

sponded Mrs. Stanwood.

"You know

we shall have Cousin Jim's house all to

ourselves"_

It was all settled in a moment.

A

sweet decisiveness is one of Marga-

ret's thousand charms, and upon this

occasion, as often before and since,

she saved me the trouble of making up

my mind. Of course I knew that I

ought not to accept this invitation, and

of course I forgot an important busi-

ness engagement which I had sinfully

made for Sunday afternoon.

I had all kinds of trouble changing

that appointment, but managed to do

it without other loss than that which

is measured in nerve force.

Margaret was waiting for me at the

station in a hired equipage, and she

urged the driver of the ancient nag to

make all possible haste.

"Your train's a little late," said she

to me in explanation, "and I promised

Uncle Henry that I would come back

as soon as I could."

Uncle Henry is Mrs. Stanwood's

brother. He is a man whose fortunes

had been declining of late and he had

been reduced to the necessity of tak-

ing boarders. Mrs. Stanwood and Mar

garet had spent a couple of months in

his house, partly as a measure of econ-

omy and partly to help him along. Un-

cle Henry's son, James, is married and

has a home of his own in Springvale,

and I had understood that he and his

family were to be away and that Mar-

garet and her mother were to take

care of the house. It would have suit-

ed me much better to be entertained at

Cousin Jim's in that gentleman's ab-

sence, because there were too many

people at Uncle Henry's to suit the in-

clinations of a nervous man who has

planned to spend a quiet Sunday with

his fiancee.

Nevertheless I asked as

cheerfully as possible if we were going

to Uncle Henry's.

"Oh, no," replied Margaret.

"Uncle

Henry is at Cousin Jim's with mam-

ma. She felt a little nervous

there

IT WAS ALL SETTLED IN A MOMENT.

with no man about except Robert, who

isn't of the smallest use as a protector,

of course."

"Who is Robert, if I may venture to

inquire?"

"He's Cousin Jim's hired man. He

sleeps in the garret, and all the rest of

the house might be carried off without

his knowing it. He's"-

"Your mam ain't the only one that's

worrited these nights," interrupted the

venerable driver, looking over his

shoulder. "My wife gits up an' lights

a light every time one o' our caows

turns over in her stall in the barn,

though the Lord knows we ain't got

nothin' in our house that a burgular 'd

pick up if 'twas lyin' in the middle o'

the road."

"Burglars?" said I, amazed. "Do you

have that sort of gentry out here?"

"You bet we've had more of 'em than

we wanted lately," responded the driv-

er.

"There's three other houses be'n

broken into besides Mullett's."

"I

should never

think

of

being

afraid," said the dearest girl,

"but

mamma has been quite nervous.

At

Uncle Henry's she has barricaded her

door every night this week with all the

furniture in the room.

"What is there to steal at Cousin

Jim's?" I asked. And she replied that

there was nothing at all, so far as she

knew, whereupon I assured her that no

better guarantee of safety could be de-

sired, for serious minded burglars nev-

er entered a house containing nothing

of value.

"I wish you'd come round an' tell

that to my wife," said the driver. "She

makes me sleep with a loaded shotgun

standin' ag'in the head o' the bed, an'

then she's so derned scared for fear the

gun 'll go off that she sets up all night

to watch it."

At this he struck his infirm steed a

spiteful blow, and the creature ambled

along with the gait of a toy horse

carved from a single piece of wood

until we came to Cousin Jim's house,

which was the last on the street. Be-

yond was a large vacant corner lot

and then a highway scantily adorned

with residences. As a mark for mid-

night marauders Cousin Jim's domicile

was well set, and I said so jocularly

to the driver while presenting him

with a small token of my esteem.

"You're right," said he, pocketing my

coin, and then he added in a low voice,

"There's stuff in that house that the

young lady don't know about-stuff

that's worth stealin'."

"What stuff?" said I. But he shook

his head as he climbed into the wagon.

"I dunno nothin' pers'nally," said he.

"I only know what folks say. Get up.

Calamity!"

The well named steed moved off, and

I turned toward the house. There was

a dim light in the hall, and a brighter

glow shone from some windows in the

second story.

Margaret was leaning

out from the railing of the veranda

and calling to her mother to come

down and unlock the screen door. I

paused upon the walk and for the first

time became fully aware of the sin-

gular oppressiveness of the night. The

air was utterly stagnant; but, looking

aloft, I saw a scurrying mass of little

clouds like disordered troops in re-

treat.

As I lowered my eyes there came a

prolonged flash of lightning, like a se-

ries of winks, and by this illumination

I saw the figure of a man crouching

behind a bush at the far corner of the

house. In my ordinary state of nerves

this would not have startled me. The

man's presence might have a simple

explanation, and, even though he were

there upon

dishonest business,

he

might easily be frightened off.

Before I could decide what to do

Mrs. Stanwood and Uncle Henry up-

peared at the door. I picked up my

satchel from the walk and hurried

forward.

In a tremulous voice Mrs.

Stanwood expressed her pleasure at

my coming, and she introduced me to

Uncle Henry, a hesitating man who

seemed always to be afraid that he

had forgotten something.

"I must be going," said he at the ear-

liest possible moment.

"The folks at

home will be anxious."

He stood a moment rubbing his chin

dubiously and then bade us good night

and wandered away, shaking his head.

I was shown to my room, and after

removing the stains of travel I joined

the ladies in the sitting room on the

second floor.

They seemed to be struggling with

some vague alarm.

"Mamma thinks she heard a noise

down in the kitchen," said Margaret in

explanation.

"Show me that noise," said I, taking

the pose of a stage hero, "and I will

beat its brains out."

"The kitchen is at the far end of the

hall," responded Mrs. Stanwood. "This

little house is built on straight lines.

When all the doors are open, you can

stand in the front vestibule and see the

big tree in the back yard through the

kitchen window. Still there's no real

need of your going down there.

The last sentence was so obviously

insincere that I gave it no heed. I be-

gan to descend the stairs.

"You might make sure that the front

door is locked," called Mrs. Stanwood.

This suited me precisely, for what I

chiefly desired was to get a look out-

side.

Therefore I opened the inner

glass paneled door of the vestibule

with the intention of going out upon

the veranda and came face to face with

a squarely built, grim visaged man,

roughly dressed and wearing a cap.

It was an even chance in the first in-

stant whether I should faint away or

leap at the villain's throat, and then I

bethought me that he must be Robert,

the manservant.

"Robert," I said in a low voice, "was

it you whom I saw at the corner of the

house a few minutes ago?'

He stared at me a moment, then

shook his head and passed on into the

house without a word.

I stepped outside and walked from

end to end of the veranda and looked

along the sides of the house; but, al-

though I was favored by several flashes

from the heavens, I saw nothing of the

lurking marauder. I re-entered the

house, locking the inner and outer

doors, and then walked straight rear-

ward to the kitchen.

Mrs. Stanwood had told me that she

had locked all the doors on the lower

floor, but I found that which was be-

tween the hall and the kitchen unfas-

tened. The key was hanging down

from the lock as if it had been cau-

tiously pushed back in order that a

skeleton key might be inserted from

the other side.

I hesitated a moment, listening, and

then struck a match and stepped into

the room. If a burglar had confronted

me at that moment I should not have

had the strength to bid him good even-

ing. But the kitchen was empty. Di-

rectly opposite me was the window; at

my left, a door that I knew, from the

design of the house, must open upon

the cellar stairs. Mechanically I turn-

ed the key. Then, still thinking of the

man whom I had seen, I crossed to the

window, raised the shade and peered

out into the darkness. Almost imme-

diately a flash of lightning illumined

the yard. In the blue gleam I saw the

trunk of the big tree and beyond it a

fence. The tree trunk hid the body of

a man who was leaning over the fence,

but I saw his right arm and his hand.

He was holding a large revolver.

I saw the weapon perfectly plainly.

I turned back toward the hall and

stood irresolute, trying to form a plan

which would fit a state of things so ex-

ceptional. The thunder following the

flash had ceased. The house was very

still, so still that I clearly heard the

cellar stairs creak under the slow tread

of a man ascending. While I waited,

breathless, the knob of the door turn-

ed in his hand. He tried it many

times, and yet I had not the strength to

move or speak.

The door began to strain and groan.

The man upon the other side had put

his weight against it. I stepped for-

ward and spoke in a low voice, but so

close that he must hear me.

"I am going to shoot through that

door!" said I.

The man did not reply, nor did he de-

sist from his endeavor to force the

door. His dull, silent, stolid courage

amazed and awed me. Clearly he must

THE SERVANT PLUNGED INTO THE ROOM.

know that I was in some sort of trap.

Perhaps in a moment the fellow's part-

ner would thrust his revolver through

the window and order me to hold up

my hands. Yet nothing prevented my

retreat toward the other part of the

house. Surely they must know that.

I turned toward the hall and saw

through the glass of the inner door a

man in the front vestibule. I was trap-

ped as neatly as the Mulletts had been

in their cellar.

"Margaret," I called,

"I'm afraid

there's something wrong down here.

You and your mother had better lock

the sitting room doors!"

A stifled scream from Mrs. Stanwood

answered this announcement. Marga-

ret cried out:

"Come up here! I'll get Robert!"

"Get him, by all means," I replied.

"But I'll stay here."

There was a long knife on the table.

I took it and stood ready by the cellar

door. It was nearly impossible that the

man who was trying to force it should

ever come through and live. This

thought cheered me. It was a taste of

triumph.

As I waited and the door creaked

there came a metallic tapping on the

window. Undoubtedly the man outside

could shoot me if he chose, but I did

not believe that he would risk making

so much noise.

Then the vestibule door opened. I

had almost forgotten my enemy upon

that side. At the same moment Mar-

garet called out from the upper regions

of the house:

"Robert is not here! I can't find

him!"

"What's the matter?" said

a dubious and familiar

voice.

It was Uncle

Henry, who had entered

by the

front

door.

"What's the trouble here?"

I beckoned to him and at the same

time called to Mrs. Stanwood:

"Don't be alarmed. We're all right

now."

Uncle Henry came into the kitchen

and I whispered to him, "There's a

burglar in the cellar and another in

the back yard."

"Well, well!" said Uncle Henry and

glanced toward the window in alarm,

which changed to obvious relief. He

crossed to the door opening from the

kitchen to the yard and admitted a

uniformed policeman with a revolver

in his hand.

"I thought I saw somebody hanging

around the house," said the officer.

"and as there's so much talk of bur-

glars just now I"-

"I think he may have got into the

cellar," said Uncle Henry.

The policeman looked at the cellar

door, which began to groan and strain.

"That's mighty queer," said he and

turned the key.

Instantly the door opened, and Rob-

ert, the servant, plunged headlong into

the room. He recovered his balance

and stared at us.

"For the love of heaven," I exclaim-

ed, "why didn't you answer me when

I spoke to you through the door?"

Robert shook his head.

"He couldn't," said Uncle Henry

with a smile. "He's deaf and dumb."

And he began to wag his fingers at

Robert. "He says," continued Uncle

Henry, "that he went down cellar to

get a little piece of ice out of the ice

box, and somebody locked the door."

"Ask if it's him that's been walking

around back of the house this even-

ing," said the policeman.

Uncle Henry wagged his fingers

some more and then said, "Yes."