Life — April 13, 1911 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

738 lady? You ought to know that we are residents here. I live——" The officer interrupted him bruskly. “That don't go,” he said. “I'd know you, all right, if you was living here. Don’t I know every one? That dress- suit game is a new dodge, ch? Oh, I'm on to you fellows.’ And, proud of his capture—for it was the first burglar he had ever laid his hands on—the officer grabbed Maltby by the shoulder, while his companion did the same with Mrs. Maltby. “You'll go along with us. “Will you telephone to Mr. Briggs’s house—you must know him—and ask him if he knows me?” “T will not.” “You'll suffer for this,” cried Mrs. Maltby, who by this time was reduced to a state of temporary insanity. “ Why don't you do something 10 convince them?" she interrogated her husband. “That'll do,” said the officer. “No more talk.” It was indeed a proud moment for that individual when they entered the station house on Herman Street, a barred room over the fire-engine build- ing, leading up one flight of stairs. The burglaries in the neighborhood had been so constant, and there had been so much complaint and so much ridi- cule of the police force, that to capture two of the offenders red-handed with “the goods” indeed a great victory. But when the officer turned up the gas and surveyed his capture more at leisure, he began to get back his sense: Maltby put down the brass jardiniére on the floor with a bang. He controlled himself admirably, realizing that it was no use to lose one’s temper. “You fellows will be the laughing- stock of this place all right,” he said, “when they find that you have locked up two of the residents. If you don’t know me you ought to, I live in the fourth house on Highland Avenue, and have been there since the first of the month. But lock us up if you want to. This little town will have a large bill to pay, I can assure yo “What is your name? cer, writing in a book. “ Maltby.” Maltby, perceiving his embarrassment, put his hand in his pocket. “As long as you are such a smart detective,” he went on, “ why don’t you try my latch key in my door and see if it fits? You might look over the ‘swag’ we brought away and see if you think a burglar would waste time on bridge prizes. What's the matter with you on was * said the offi- “WOMAN'S HIGHEST DUTY IS AT HOME. fellows, anyway? Are you so hard up for burglars that you have to take in any one that comes along?” The officer maintained his composure. “It's my business,” he said, “to guard this borough and I'm going to do it. You've got to prove who you are.” “Call up Mr. Briggs, There's your telephone.” Mr. Briggs was obtained and the nec- essary information imparted to the offi- cer. He turned to Maltby crestfallen. “T beg your pardon, sir,” he said humbly. “I hope you will make noth- ing of this.” Mrs. Maltby was not so magnanimous as her husband. “You ought to be locked up yourself,” she stormed, “for committing such an outrage—' “There! there!” said Maltby, “he was only doing what he conceived to be his duty. It’s all right,” he said, they hurried away. “ By showing that you can forgive,” he said to his wife as they hurried home, “you make him your friend for all time.” “Well, I shall never forget it.” They walked up the steps of their house. Maltby took out his key. .Sud- denly he started back, as he swung the doors open. “ Burglars!" he ejaculated. Two of the windows in the hall were still open. A chair was upset. Maltby rushed into the dining-room, followed by his excited wife. The sideboard had been stripped. Upstairs they bounded. Evidently, however, the burglar w a second-story man, or had been inter- rupted or frightened away in his work, for nothing there was disturbed. Maltby went to the telephone. In a moment he was talking to the police station. “Ts this you, Murphy?” “Yes.” “This is Mr. Maltby. Say, when we got home, we discovered burglars had actually entered our house. Better be on the lookout.” “Too late, sir.” What do you mean?” “Why, my man John just come in and he says he saw the two of ‘em going down High Street ten minutes ago, but he didn't dare follow 'em, as he knew they was bridge players. They are five miles off by this time.” Maltby turned to his wife. “The real culprits escaped,” he said ‘The policeman leaned too far the other way, and thought they were carrying home bridge prizes instead of our silver.” “And now what are you going to do about it?” groaned Mrs. Maltby. Her husband looked at her serenely. “I'm going to bed,” he said. “We can stand it to lose the silver, particu- larly as we are insured. But I hope this will be a lesson to you.” “What lesson?” “Never under any circumstances to drag me out to a bridge party against my intuition and will.” comicbooks.com