in the grandest manner with his legs very wide apart, and the pistol pointing at the cowering burglar. The burglar was a large man who did not mean to have a beard, I think, but he had got some of one, and a red comforter, and a fur cap, and his face was red and his voice was thick. How different from our own robber! The burglar had a dark lantern, and he was standing by the plate-basket. When we had lit the gas we all thought he was very like what a burglar ought to be. He did not look as if he could ever have been a pirate or a highwayman, or anything really dashing or noble, and he scowled and shuffled his feet and said: "Well, go on: why don't yer fetch the pleece?"
"Upon my word, I don't know," said our robber, rubbing his chin. "Oswald, why don't we fetch the police?"
It is not every robber that I would stand Christian names from, I can tell you but just then I didn't think of that. I just said—
"Do you mean I'm to fetch one?"
Our robber looked at the burglar and said nothing.
Then the burglar began to speak very fast, and to look different ways with his hard, shiny little eyes.
