I could feel her heart beating
even faster than mine.
"Burglar?" I repeated.
"Indeed, no, sir,"--reproachfully. "Mine is a political job."
"A political job?"--thunderstruck.
"Yes, sir; I am an inspector of cellars,"--grimly. "I couldn't get
around to this here cellar earlier in the day, sir, and a fellow's work
_must_ be done."
Here was a burglar with the sense of humor.
"What can I do for you?" I asked blandly.
"Firstly, as they say, you might tell me what you and this lady _are_
doing in this lonesome cellar."
"Say 'sir,' when you address me."
"Yes, sir."
"The lady and I were playing hide-and-seek."
"Nice game, sir,"--grinning. "Were you trying to hide under the coal?"
"Oh, no; I was merely exploring it."
"Say 'sir,' when you address me."
"Sir."
"You're a cool hand, sir."
"I am gratified to learn that our admiration is mutual. But what are
_you_ doing here?"
"I was ascertaining if the law was properly observed, sir," shaking
with silent laughter.
"But what puzzles me," I went on, "is the fact that you could gather
the gems in that garb." For I was positive that this was the Galloping
Dick every one was looking for.
"I don't understand a word you say, sir. I'm an inspector of cellars,
sir, not a jeweler.
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