Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/211

Rh Raffles, who were criminals only at strictly stated hours and in strictly certain directions. I knew there was no such animal, outside the movies and the Broadway melodramas. Even poor old Bud, in his time, had tried to be a Twentieth Century Robin Hood, and he had made anything but a success of it. I simply refused to accept Wendy Washburn as either a safe-breaker or a gem-thief. And I preferred steering away from that disturbing topic. I wanted my Hero-Man to keep to his pedestal.

"Then perhaps you can advise me what to do with this," I suggested, as a nurse says "See-the-moo-cow!" to distract a wayward child.

He stared down at the loot.

"Why, the first thing, I suppose, would be to take stock," was his matter-of-fact enough suggestion.

"That's exactly what I've been wanting to do," I admitted.

"No time, I suppose," he mildly inquired, as he took out a gold pocket-pencil, "to make inventories as you grab goods like that?"

""That always comes afterward," I calmly explained, "especially when you do the work as I have to do it."

He brought his chair and came and sat beside me.