THE WRONG COAT
"There's only one thing to be done," said the detective; "and that's to turn out the lights and wait for the blood thirsty gent."
For three-quarters of an hour we five sat in the semi-darkness, our ears strained to catch the faintest foreign sound. Once I sneezed suddenly, and one of the policemen nearly fell out of his chair. It may seem funny to you who read, but it was mighty serious to the girl and myself. The suspense was nerve-racking. We scarcely dared breathe naturally. The occasional slumping of the coal in the grate was pregnant with terrors. And our faces, seen but dimly, were drawn and tense with the silent watching. Every eye
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