A BURGLAR'S VISIT
"Prue!"
A small hand gripped Prudence's shoulder, and again came a hoarsely
whispered:
"Prue!"
Prudence sat up in bed with a bounce.
"What in the world?" she began, gazing out into the room, half-lighted
by the moonshine, and seeing Carol and Lark shivering beside her bed.
"Sh! Sh! Hush!" whispered Lark. "There's a burglar in our room!"
By this time, even sound-sleeping Fairy was awake. "Oh, there is!" she
scoffed.
"Yes, there is," declared Carol with some heat. "We heard him, plain
as day. He stepped into the closet, didn't he, Lark?"
"He certainly did," agreed Lark.
"Did you see him?"
"No, we heard him. Carol heard him first, and she spoke, and nudged
me. Then I heard him, too. He was at our dresser, but he shot across
the room and into the closet. He closed the door after him. He's
there now."
"You've been dreaming," said Fairy, lying down again.
"We don't generally dream the same thing at the same minute," said
Carol stormily. "I tell you he's in there."
"And you two great big girls came off and left poor little Connie in
there alone with a burglar, did you? Well, you are nice ones, I must
say."
And Prudence leaped out of bed and started for the door, followed by
Fairy, with the twins creeping fearfully along in the rear.
"She was asleep," muttered Carol.
"We didn't want to scare her," added Lark.
Prudence was careful to turn the switch by the door, so that the room
was in full light before she entered. The closet door was wide open.
Connie was soundly sleeping. There was no one else in the room.
"You see?" said Prudence sternly.
"I'll bet he took our ruby rings," declared Lark, and the twins and
Fairy ran to the dresser to look.
But a sickening realization had come home to Prudence. In the lower
hall, under the staircase, was a small dark closet which they called
the dungeon. The dungeon door was big and solid, and was equipped with
a heavy catch-lock. In this dungeon, Prudence kept the family
silverware, and all the money she had on hand, as it could there be
safely locked away. But more often than not, Prudence forgot to lock
it.
Mr. Starr had gone to Burlington that morning to attend special revival
services for three days, and Prudence had fifty whole dollars in the
house, an unwonted sum in that parsonage! And the dungeon was not
locked. Without a word, she slipped softly out of the room, ran down
the stairs, making never a sound in her bare feet, and saw, somewhat to
her surprise, that the dungeon door was open. Quickly she flung it
shut, pushed the tiny key that moved the "catch," and was rushing up
the stairs again with never a pause for breath.
A strange sight met her eyes in the twins' room. The twins themselves
were in each other's arms, sobbing bitterly. Fairy was still looking
hurriedly through the dresser drawers.
"They are gone," wailed Carol, "our beautiful ruby rings that belonged
to grandmother."
"Nonsense," cried Prue with nervous anger, "you've left them in the
bathroom, or on the kitchen shelves. You're always leaving them
somewhere over the place. Come on, and we'll search the house just to
convince you."
"No, no," shrieked the twins. "Let's lock the door and get under the
bed."
The rings were really valuable. Their grandmother, their mother's
mother, whom they had never seen, had divided her "real jewelry"
between her two daughters. And the mother of these parsonage girls,
had further divided her portion to make it reach through her own family
of girls! Prudence had a small but beautiful chain of tiny pearls.
Fairy's share consisted of a handsome brooch, with a "sure-enough
diamond" in the center! The twin rubies of another brooch had been
reset in rings for Carol and Lark, and were the priceless treasures of
their lives! And in the dungeon was a solid gold bracelet, waiting
until Connie's arm should be sufficiently developed to do it justice.
"Our rings! Our rings!" the twins were wailing, and Connie, awakened
by the noise, was crying beneath the covers of her bed.
"Maybe we'd better phone for Mr. Allan," suggested Fairy. "The girls
are so nervous they will be hysterical by the time we finish searching
the house."
"Well, let's do the up-stairs then," said Prudence. "Get your slippers
and kimonos, and we'll go into daddy's room."
But inside the door of daddy's room, with the younger girls clinging to
her, and Fairy looking odd and disturbed, Prudence stopped abruptly and
stared about the room curiously.
"Fairy, didn't father leave his watch hanging on that nail by the
table? Seems to me I saw it there this morning. I remember thinking I
would tease him for being forgetful."
And the watch was not there.
"I think it was Sunday he left it," answered Fairy in a low voice. "I
remember seeing it on the nail, and thinking he would need it,--but I
believe it was Sunday."
Prudence looked under the bed, and in the closet, but their father's
room was empty. Should they go farther? For a moment, the girls stood
looking at one another questioningly. Then--they heard a loud thud
down-stairs, as of some one pounding on a door. There was no longer
any doubt. Some one was in the house! Connie and the twins screamed
again and clung to Prudence frantically. And Fairy said, "I think we'd
better lock the door and stay right here until morning, Prue."
But Prudence faced them stubbornly. "If you think I'm going to let any
one steal that fifty dollars, you are mistaken. Fifty dollars does not
come often enough for that, I can tell you."
"It's probably stolen already," objected Fairy.
"Well, if it is, we'll find out who did it, and have them arrested.
I'm going down to telephone to the police. You girls must lock the
door after me, and stay right here."
The little ones screamed again, and Fairy said: "Don't be silly, Prue,
if you go I'm going with you, of course. We'll leave the kiddies here
and they can lock the door. They'll be perfectly safe in here."
But the children loudly objected to this. If Prue and Fairy went, they
would go! So down the stairs they trooped, a timorous trembling crowd.
Prudence went at once to the telephone, and called up the residence of
the Allans, their neighbors across the street. After a seemingly
never-ending wait, the kind-hearted neighbor left his bed to answer the
insistent telephone. Falteringly Prudence explained their predicament,
and asked him to come and search the house. He promised to be there in
five minutes, with his son to help.
"Now," said Prudence more cheerfully, "we'll just go out to the kitchen
and wait. It's quiet there, and away from the rest of the house, and
we'll be perfectly safe." To the kitchen, then, they hurried, and
found real comfort in its smallness and secureness. Prudence raked up
the dying embers of the fire, and Fairy drew the blinds to their lowest
limits. The twins and Connie trailed them fearfully at every step.
When the fire was burning brightly, Prudence spoke with great
assurance. "I'll just run in to the dungeon and see for sure if the
money is there. I do not honestly believe there is a soul in the
house, but I can't rest until I know that money is safe."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Fairy, "you'll stay right here
and wait with us. I do not believe there's any one in the house,
either, but if there is, you shan't run into him by yourself. You stay
right where you are, and don't be silly. Mr. Allan will do the
investigating."
Every breath of wind against the windows drew startled cries from the
younger girls, and both Fairy and Prudence were white with anxiety when
they heard the loud voices of the Allans outside the kitchen door.
Prudence began crying nervously the moment the two angels of mercy
appeared before her, and Fairy told their tale of woe.
"Well, there now," Mr. Allan said with rough sympathy, "you just got
scared, that's all. Everything's suspicious when folks get scared. I
told my wife the other day I bet you girls would get a good fright some
time left here alone. Come on, Jim, and we'll go over the house in a
jiffy."
He was standing near the dining-room door. He lifted his head
suddenly, and seemed to sniff a little. There was undoubtedly a faint
odor of tobacco in the house.
"Been any men in here to-night?" he asked. "Or this afternoon? Think,
now!"
"No one," answered Prudence. "I was alone all afternoon, and there has
been no one in this evening."
He passed slowly through the dining-room into the hall, closely
followed by his son and the five girls, already much reassured. As he
passed the dungeon door he paused for a moment, listening intently, his
head bent.
"Oh, Mr. Allan," cried Prudence, "let's look in the dungeon first. I
want to see if the money is safe." Her hand was already on the lock,
but he shoved her away quickly.
"Is there any way out of that closet besides this door?" he asked.
"No. We call it the dungeon," laughed Prudence, her self-possession
quite recovered. "It is right under the stairs, and not even a mouse
could gnaw its way out, with this door shut."
"Who shut that door?" he inquired, still holding Prudence's hand from
the lock. Then without waiting for an answer, he went on, "Let's go
back in the other room a minute. Come on, all of you." In the
living-room, he hurried to the telephone, and spoke to the operator in
a low voice. "Call the police headquarters, and have them send two or
three men to the Methodist parsonage, right away. We've got a burglar
locked in a closet, and they'll have to get him out. Please hurry."
At this, the girls crowded around him again in renewed fear.
"Don't be scared," he said calmly, "we're all right. He's in there
safe enough and can't get out for a while. Now, tell me about it. How
did you get him in the closet? Begin at the beginning, and tell me all
about it."
Carol began the story with keen relish. "I woke up, and thought I
heard some one in the room. I supposed it was Prudence. I said,
'Prudence,' and nobody answered, and everything was quiet.' But I felt
there was some one in there. I nudged Lark, and she woke up. He moved
then, and we both heard him. He was fumbling at the dresser, and our
ruby rings are gone. We heard him step across the room and into the
closet. He closed the door after him, didn't he, Lark?"
"Yes, he did," agreed Lark. "His hand was on the knob."
"So we sneaked out of bed, and went into Prudence's room and woke her
and Fairy." She looked at Connie, and blushed. "Connie was asleep,
and we didn't waken her because we didn't want to frighten her. We
woke the girls,--and you tell the rest, Prudence."
"We didn't believe her, of course. We went back into their room and
there was no one there. But the rings were gone. While they were
looking at the dresser, I remembered that I forgot to lock the dungeon
door, where we keep the money and the silverware, and I ran down-stairs
and slammed the door and locked it, and went back up. I didn't hear a
sound down-stairs."
Mr. Allan laughed heartily. "Well, your burglar was in that closet
after the money, no doubt, and he didn't hear you coming, and got
locked in. Did you make any noise coming down the stairs?"
"No. I was in my bare feet, and I tried to be quiet because if there
was any one in the house, I did not want him coming at me in the dark.
I ran back up-stairs, and we looked in father's room. I thought father
had forgotten to take his watch with him, but it wasn't there.--Do you
really think it was Sunday he forgot it, Fairy?"
"No," said Fairy, "it was there this afternoon. The burglar's got it
in the dungeon with him, of course.--I just said it was Sunday to keep
from scaring the twins."
In a few minutes, they heard footsteps around the house and knew the
officers had arrived. Mr. Allan let them into the house, four of them,
and led them out to the hall. There could be no doubt whatever that
the burglar was in the dungeon. He had been busy with his knife, and
the lock was nearly removed. If the officers had been two minutes
later, the dungeon would have been empty. The girls were sent
up-stairs at once, with the Allan boy as guard,--as guard, without
regard for the fact that he was probably more frightened than any one
of them.
The chief officer rapped briskly on the dungeon door. Then he clicked
his revolver.
"There are enough of us to overpower three of you," he said curtly.
"And we have men outside the house, too. If you make any disturbance,
we shall all fire the instant the door is opened. If you put your
firearms on the floor, and hold both hands over your head, you'll be
well treated. If your hands are not up, we fire on sight. Get your
revolvers ready, boys."
Then the officer opened the door. Evidently the burglar was wise
enough to appreciate the futility of fighting against odds. Perhaps he
did not wish to add the charge of manslaughter to that of robbery.
Certainly, he did not feel himself called to sudden death. At any
rate, his hands were above his head, and in less than a second he was
securely manacled.
The chief officer had been eying him closely. "Say!" he exclaimed.
"Aren't you Limber-Limb Grant?" The burglar grinned, but did not
answer. "By jove!" shouted the officer. "It is! Call the girls down
here," he ordered, and when they appeared, gazing at the burglar with
mingled admiration, pity and fear, he congratulated them with
considerable excitement.
"It's Limber-Limb Grant," he explained. "There's a reward of five
hundred dollars for him. You'll get the money, as sure as you're
born." Then he turned again to the burglar. "Say, Grant, what's a
fellow like you doing on such a fifth-rate job as this? A Methodist
parsonage is not just in your line, is it?"
Limber-Limb laughed sheepishly. "Well," he explained good-naturedly,
"Chicago got too hot for me. I had to get out in a hurry, and I
couldn't get my hands on any money. I had a fine lot of jewels, but I
was so pushed I couldn't use them. I came here and loafed around town
for a while, because folks said Mount Mark was so fast asleep it did
not even wake up long enough to read the daily papers. I heard about
this parsonage bunch, and knew the old man had gone off to get more
religion. This afternoon at the station I saw a detective from Chicago
get off the train, and I knew what that meant. But I needed some cash,
and so I wasn't above a little job on the side. I never dreamed of
getting done up by a bunch of preacher's kids. I went upstairs to get
those family jewels I've heard about, and one of the little ones gave
the alarm. I already had some of them, so I came down at once. I
stopped in the dungeon to get that money, and first thing I knew the
door banged shut. That's all. You're welcome to the five hundred
dollars, ladies. Some one was bound to get it sooner or later, and I'm
partial to the ladies, every time."
Limber-Limb Grant was a modern thief of the new class. At that moment,
in Chicago, he had in storage, a hundred thousand dollars' worth of
jewels, which he could not dispose of on the pressure of the moment.
The law was crowding him close, and he was obliged to choose between
meeting the law, or running away from it. He ran. He reached Mount
Mark, and trusted to its drowsiness for concealment for a few weeks.
But that afternoon the arrival of a detective gave him warning, and he
planned his departure promptly. A parsonage occupied by only five
girls held no terrors for him, and with fifty dollars and a few fairly
good jewels, a man of his talent could accomplish wonders.
But Mount Mark had aroused from its lethargy. Limber-Limb Grant was in
the hands of the law.
Mr. Starr had been greatly interested in the accounts of the
evangelistic services being held in Burlington. The workers were
meeting with marked success, and Mr. Starr felt he should get in touch
with them. So on Thursday morning he took the early east-bound train
to Burlington. There he sought out a conveniently located second-class
hotel, and took up residence. He attended the services at the
tabernacle in the afternoon and evening, and then went to bed at the
hotel. He slept late the next morning. When he finally appeared, he
noticed casually, without giving it thought, that the clerk behind the
desk looked at him with marked interest. Mr. Starr nodded cheerfully,
and the clerk came at once from behind the desk to speak to him. Two
or three other guests, who had been lounging about, drew near.
"We've just been reading about your girls, sir," said the clerk
respectfully. "It's a pretty nervy little bunch! You must be proud of
them!"
"My girls!" ejaculated Mr. Starr.
"Haven't you seen the morning paper? You're Mr. Starr, the Methodist
minister at Mount Mark, aren't you?"
"I am! But what has happened to my girls? Is anything wrong? Give me
the paper!"
Mr. Starr was greatly agitated. He showed it.
But the clerk could not lose this opportunity to create a sensation.
It was a chance of a life-time. "Why, a burglar got in the parsonage
last night," he began, almost licking his lips with satisfaction. "The
twins heard him at their dresser, and when he stepped into the closet
they locked him in there, and yelled for the rest of the family. But
he broke away from them, and went, down-stairs and climbed down into
the dungeon to get the money. Then Prudence, she ran down-stairs alone
in the dark, and locked him in the dungeon,--pushed him down-stairs or
something like that, I believe,--and then telephoned for the police.
And she stayed on guard outside the dungeon until the police got there,
so he couldn't get away. And the police got him, and found it was
Limber-Limb Grant, a famous gentleman thief, and your girls are going
to get five hundred dollars reward for catching him."
Five minutes later, Mr. Starr and his suit-case were in a taxicab
speeding toward Union Station, and within eight minutes he was en route
for Mount Mark,--white in the face, shaky in the knees, but
tremendously proud in spirit.
Arriving at Mount Mark, he was instantly surrounded by an exclamatory
crowd of station loungers. "Ride, sir? Glad to take you home for
nothing," urged Harvey Reel. Mount Mark was enjoying more notoriety
than ever before in the two hundred years of its existence. The name
of Prudence was upon every tongue, and her father heard it with
satisfaction. In the parsonage he found at least two-thirds of the
Ladies' Aid Society, the trustees and the Sunday-school superintendent,
along with a miscellaneous assortment of ordinary members, mixed up
with Presbyterians, Baptists and a few unclassified outsiders. And
Prudence was the center of attraction.
She was telling the "whole story," for perhaps the fifteenth time that
morning, but she broke off when her father hurried in and flung her
arms about him. "Oh, papa," she cried, "they mustn't praise me. I had
no idea there was a burglar in the house when I ran down the stairs,
and if I hadn't been careless and left the dungeon unlocked the money
would have been in no danger, and if the twins hadn't wakened me I
wouldn't have known there was a burglar about the place, and if Fairy
hadn't kept me from rushing out to the dungeon to see if the money was
safe, he would have got away, and--it took the policemen to get him
out. Oh, I know that is not very grammatical, father, but it's just as
true as if it were! And I honestly can't see that much credit is due
me."
But Mount Mark did not take it so calmly. And as for the Methodist
church,--well, the Presbyterian people used to say there was "no living
with those Methodists, since the girls caught a burglar in the
parsonage." Of course, it was important, from the Methodist point of
view. Pictures of the parsonage and the church were in all the papers
for miles around, and at their very next meeting the trustees decided
to get the piano the Sunday-school had been needing for the last
hundred years!
When the five hundred dollars arrived from Chicago, Prudence felt that
personally she had no real right to the money. "We must divide it,"
she insisted, "for I didn't earn it a bit more than any of the others.
But it is perfectly glorious to have five hundred dollars, isn't it?
Did you ever have five hundred dollars before? Just take it, father,
and use it for whatever we need. It's family money."
But he would not hear of this. "No," he said, "put it in the bank,
Prudence, for there will come a time when you will want money very
badly. Then you will have it."
"Let's divide it then,--a hundred for each of us," she urged.
Neither the younger girls nor their father would consent to this. But
when Prudence stood very firm, and pleaded with them earnestly, they
decided to divide it.
"I will deposit two hundred and fifty dollars for the four younger
ones," he said, "and that will leave you as much."
So it was settled, and Prudence was a happy girl when she saw it safely
put away in the bank.
"We can get it whenever we really need it, you know," she told her
father joyfully. "It's such a comfort to know it's there! I feel just
like a millionaire, I am sure. Do you think it would be all right to
send Limber-Limb Grant a letter of thanks for it? We were horribly
scared, but--well, I for one am willing to be horribly scared for such
a lot of money as that!"