The Argosy, January 1907 — page 187: what you’re looking at

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

HOME, SWEET HOME. “Burglar,” replied the- policeman. “This gentleman is the complainant. He caught him in his room at ninety- six West Eighty-Fourth Street — the block where all the burglaries have been occurring of late, sergeant.” The sergeant looked at our prisoner almost affectionately. ‘So glad to see you here,” he re- marked sweetly. ‘“‘ We’ve been ‘expect- ing you for some time, Mr. Burglar.” “Sergeant,” cried the fellow, point- ing frenziedly at me, “that fellow has a gun in his coat-pocket. I’m afraid to open my mouth while it’s in his posses- sion. ‘Fake it away from him, so that he can’t harm me, and I will explain everything to you.” With a scornful smile I handed my revolver to the sergeant. | “There,” said I accommodatingly. “The gentleman from. Sing Sing has the floor.” ‘“ Sergeant,” cried the prisoner, ‘ this man here is either crazy or a criminal. !’m inclined to believe that he is the for- mer. I am no burglar. My name is Robert Watson. I live at ninety-six West EFighty-Fourth Street. I came home late to-night, and when I got to my bedroom | found this fellow in my bed. He was holding a revolver at my head. “I thought, at first, that he was a burglar, and had had the effrontery to go to sleep in my bed after robbing the house. But, seeing that he handed me over to this officer and had me brought here, I am now inclined to believe that he is a lunatic who has escaped from some asylum.” “What a pretty story!’ I remarked, with a scornful laugh. The sergeant grinned and turned to the prisoner. ‘Did I understand you to say that you live at ninety-six West Eighty- Fourth Street?” he inquired. “Yes, sir. That is to say, I board there,’ he answered. At .this reply a horrible thought en- tered my mind. Was it possible that during my six months’ absence from home my family had seen fit to take in a boarder? If such was the case, I was indeed in a terrible pickle. ‘What is the name of the family you board with?” I inquired a little shakily. piel a * ‘ Peters,” he answered readily, and at his words my self-assurance returned. “You audacious scamp!” I cried. ‘That isn’t the name at all. If you will take the trouble to consult that directory on your desk, sergeant, you will find number ninety-six West FEighty-Fourth Street is occupied by Thomas Crary. I am his son, ‘Thomas Crary, Junior.” The sergeant did as directed. “Sure enough,” he announced. ‘“Here’s the name and address. ‘That settles this fellow’s pretensions. Of course, I didn’t place much credence in his story, anyway. Still, I like to be sure. Officer, search the prisoner.” ‘““No! No!” cried the fellow hastily. ‘IT object to being searched.” And he struggled frantically. “If you're wise you'll keep still, con- found you!” hissed the policeman, as he threw his prisoner forcibly against the rail and clutched him by the throat with one hand while he went through his pockets with the other. From the breast-pocket of the man’s coat he pulled forth a handful of yellow slips. “Ha!” he cried triumphantly. “ Just look at these, sergeant! Pawn-tickets. And for jewelry, too! Here’s a ticket for a watch—a ticket for a scarfpin—a ticket for a dress suit—a ticket for a ring,” etc., etc. “‘ This fellow must be an old hand at the game.” “It was my own stuff. I had a right to pawn it. I was broke on account of playing the races,” gasped the prisoner, now white to the lips. “Your own stuff, eh?’ sneered the sergeant. ‘“ We'll look up the pawn- shops, my friend, and trace the real owners of all those articles. PIl wager well have a score of complainants against you before we get through. No more talk, now. It won’t do you any good. Officer, take him back.” And as they dragged the unfortunate wretch to a cell the sergeant turned to me and remarked: ‘“ Don’t fail to be in court in the morning, Mr. Crary.” “T’ll be there,” I said. ‘I don’t in- tend to let up on the scoundrel, I assure you.” As I walked back to the house with the intention of returning to bed I smiled to think of the interesting yarn I should EOMICLOOOKS 869 . (E@)