I am a householder in a pleasant country neighbourhood, about twenty
miles from New York. My family consists of myself and wife, our boy,
George William, aged two, two maid-servants, and a man; but in the
summer we have frequent visitors, and at the time of which I am about to
write my Aunt Martha was staying with us.
My house is large and pleasant, and we have neighbours near enough for
social purposes and yet not too near or too many to detract from the
rural aspect of our surroundings. But we do not live in a paradise; we
are occasionally troubled by mosquitoes and burglars.
Against the first of these annoyances we have always been able to guard
ourselves, at least in a measure, and our man and the cook declare that
they have become so used to them that they do not mind them; but to
guard against burglars is much more difficult, and to become used to
them would, I think, require a great deal of practice.
For several months before the period of this narrative our neighbourhood
had been subject to visits from burglars. From time to time houses had
been entered and robbed, and the offenders had never been detected.
We had no police force, not even a village organization. There was a
small railway station near our house, and six miles away was the county
town. For fire and police protection each household was obliged to
depend upon itself.
Before the beginning of the burglarious enterprises in our midst, we had
not felt the need of much protection in this direction; sometimes
poultry was stolen, but this was a rare occurrence, and, although
windows and doors were generally fastened for the night, this labour was
often considered much more troublesome than necessary. But now a great
change had taken place in the feelings of our community. When the first
robbery occurred the neighbours were inclined to laugh about it, and to
say that Captain Hubbard's habit of sitting up after the rest of his
family had gone to bed and then retiring and forgetting to close the
front door had invited the entrance of a passing tramp. But when a
second and a third house, where windows and doors had not been left
open, had been entered, and, in a measure, despoiled, people ceased to
laugh; and if there had been any merriment at all on the subject, it
would have been caused by the extraordinary and remarkable precautions
taken against the entrance of thieves by night. The loaded pistol became
the favourite companion of the head of the house; those who had no
watch-dogs bought them; there were new locks, new bolts, new fastenings.
At one time there was a mounted patrol of young men, which, however, was
soon broken up by their mothers. But this trouble was unavailing, for at
intervals the burglaries continued.
As a matter of course a great many theories were broached as to the
reasons for this disturbance in our hitherto peaceful neighbourhood. We
were at such a distance from the ordinary centres of crime that it was
generally considered that professional burglars would hardly take the
trouble to get to us or to get away from us, and that, therefore, the
offences were probably committed by unsuspected persons living in this
part of the country who had easy means of determining which houses were
worth breaking into and what method of entrance would be most feasible.
In this way some families, hitherto regarded as respectable families,
had fallen under suspicion.
So far, mine was the only house of any importance within the distance of
a mile from the station which had not in some way suffered from
burglars. In one or two of these cases the offenders had been frightened
away before they had done any other injury than the breaking of a
window-shutter; but we had been spared any visitation whatever. After a
time we began to consider that this was an invidious distinction. Of
course we did not desire that robbers should break into our house and
steal, but it was a sort of implied insult that robbers should think
that our house was not worth breaking into. We contrived, however, to
bear up under this implied contempt and even under the facetious
imputations of some of our lively neighbours, who declared that it
looked very suspicious that we should lose nothing, and even continue to
add to our worldly goods, while everybody else was suffering from
abstractions.
I did not, however, allow any relaxation in my vigilance in the
protection of my house and family. My time to suffer had not yet
arrived, and it might not arrive at all; but if it did come it should
not be my fault. I therefore carefully examined all the new precautions
my neighbours had taken against the entrance of thieves, and where I
approved of them I adopted them.
Of some of these my wife and I did not approve. For instance, a tin pan
containing iron spoons, the dinner bell, and a miscellaneous collection
of hardware balanced on the top stair of the staircase, and so connected
with fine cords that a thief coming up the stairs would send it rattling
and bounding to the bottom, was looked upon by us with great disfavour.
The descent of the pan, whether by innocent accident or the approach of
a burglar, might throw our little boy into a fit, to say nothing of the
terrible fright it would give my Aunt Martha, who was a maiden lady of
middle age, and not accustomed to a clatter in the night. A bull-dog in
the house my wife would not have, nor, indeed, a dog of any kind. George
William was not yet old enough to play with dogs, especially a sharp
one; and if the dog was not sharp it was of no use to have him in the
house. To the ordinary burglar-alarm she strongly objected. She had been
in houses where these things went off of their own accord, occasioning
great consternation; and, besides, she said that if thieves got into the
house she did not want to know it and she did not want me to know it;
the quicker they found what they came for and went away with it the
better. Of course, she wished them kept out, if such a thing were
possible; but if they did get in, our duty as parents of the dearest
little boy was non-interference. She insisted, however, that the room in
which the loveliest of children slept, and which was also occupied by
ourselves, should be made absolutely burglar proof; and this object, by
means of extraordinary bolts and chains, I flattered myself I
accomplished. My Aunt Martha had a patent contrivance for fastening a
door that she always used, whether at home or travelling, and in whose
merit she placed implicit confidence. Therefore we did not feel it
necessary to be anxious about her; and the servants slept at the top of
the house, where thieves would not be likely to go.
"They may continue to slight us by their absence," said my wife, "but I
do not believe that they will be able to frighten us by their presence."
I was not, however, so easily contented as my wife. Of course I wished
to do everything possible to protect George William and the rest of the
family, but I was also very anxious to protect our property in all parts
of the house. Therefore, in addition to everything else I had done, I
devised a scheme for interfering with the plans of men who should
feloniously break into our home.
After a consultation with a friend, who was a physician greatly
interested in the study of narcotic drugs, I procured a mixture which
was almost tasteless and without peculiar odour, and of which a small
quantity would in less than a minute throw an ordinary man into a state
of unconsciousness. The potion was, however, no more dangerous in its
effects than that quantity of ardent spirits which would cause entire
insensibility. After the lapse of several hours, the person under the
influence of the drug would recover consciousness without assistance.
But in order to provide against all contingencies my friend prepared a
powerful antidote, which would almost immediately revive one who had
been made unconscious by our potion.
The scheme that I had devised may possibly have been put into use by
others. But of this I know not. I thought it a good scheme and
determined to experiment with it, and, if possible, to make a trap which
should catch a burglar. I would reveal this plan to no one but my friend
the physician and my wife. Secrecy would be an important element in its
success.
Our library was a large and pleasant room on the ground floor of the
house, and here I set my trap. It was my habit to remain in this room an
hour or so after the rest of the family had gone to bed, and, as I was
an early riser, I was always in it again before it was necessary for a
servant to enter it in the morning.
Before leaving the library for the night I placed in a conspicuous
position in the room a small table, on which was a tray holding two
decanters partially filled with wine, in the one red and in the other
white. There was also upon the tray an open box of biscuit and three
wine-glasses, two of them with a little wine at the bottom. I took pains
to make it appear that these refreshments had been recently partaken of.
There were biscuit crumbs upon the tray, and a drop or two of wine was
freshly spilled upon it every time the trap was set. The table, thus
arranged, was left in the room during the night, and early in the
morning I put the tray and its contents into a closet and locked it up.
A portion of my narcotic preparation was thoroughly mixed with the
contents of each of the decanters in such proportions that a glass of
the wine would be sufficient to produce the desired effect.
It was my opinion that there were few men who, after a night walk and
perhaps some labour in forcibly opening a door or a window-shutter,
would not cease for a moment in pursuance of their self-imposed task to
partake of the refreshments so conveniently left behind them by the
occupants of the house when they retired to rest. Should my surmises be
correct, I might reasonably expect, should my house be broken into, to
find an unconscious burglar in the library when I went down in the
morning. And I was sure, and my wife agreed with me, that if I should
find a burglar in that room or any other part of the house, it was
highly desirable that he should be an unconscious one.
Night after night I set my burglar trap, and morning after morning I
locked it up in the closet. I cannot say that I was exactly disappointed
that no opportunity offered to test the value of my plan, but it did
seem a pity that I should take so much trouble for nothing. It had been
some weeks since any burglaries had been committed in the neighbourhood,
and it was the general opinion that the miscreants had considered this
field worked out and had transferred their labours to a better-paying
place. The insult of having been considered unworthy the attention of
the knights of the midnight jimmy remained with us, but as all our goods
and chattels also remained with us we could afford to brook the
indignity.
As the trap cost nothing my wife did not object to my setting it every
night for the present. Something might happen, she remarked, and it was
just as well to be prepared in more ways than one; but there was a point
upon which she was very positive.
"When George William is old enough to go about the house by himself,"
she said, "those decanters must not be left exposed upon the table. Of
course I do not expect him to go about the house drinking wine and
everything that he finds, but there is no knowing what a child in the
first moments of his investigative existence may do."
For myself, I became somewhat tired of acting my part in this little
farce every night and morning, but when I have undertaken anything of
this sort I am slow to drop it.
It was about three weeks since I had begun to set my trap when I was
awakened in the night by a sudden noise. I sat up in bed, and as I did
so my wife said to me sleepily,--
"What is that? Was it thunder? There it is again!" she exclaimed,
starting up. "What a crash! It must have struck somewhere." I did not
answer. It was not thunder. It was something in the house, and it
flashed into my mind that perhaps my trap had been sprung. I got out of
bed and began rapidly to dress.
"What are you going to do?" anxiously asked my wife.
"I'm going to see what has happened," said I. At that moment there was
another noise. This was like two or three heavy footsteps, followed by a
sudden thump; but it was not so loud as the others.
"John," cried my wife, "don't stir an inch, it's burglars!" and she
sprang out of bed and seized me by the arm.
"I must go down," I said; "but there is really no reason for your being
frightened. I shall call David, and shall carry my pistol, so there is
really no danger. If there are thieves in the house they have probably
decamped by this time--that is, if they are able to do so, for of course
they must know that noise would awaken the soundest sleepers."
My wife looked at me and then slowly withdrew her hands from my arm.
"You promise me," she said, "if you find a burglar downstairs in the
possession of his senses you will immediately come back to me and George
William?"
I promised her, and, slipping on some clothes, I went out into the
second-story hall. I carried no light. Before I had reached the bottom
of the back stairs I heard David, my man, coming down. To be sure it was
he and not a burglar I spoke to him in a low voice, my pistol raised in
case of an unsatisfactory reply.
"I heard that noise, sir," he whispered, "and was going down to see
about it."
"Are you ready if it's thieves?" I whispered.
"I have got the biscuit-beater," he replied.
"Come on, then," said I, and we went downstairs.
I had left no light in the library, but there was one there now, and it
shone through the open door into the hallway. We stopped and listened.
There was no sound, and then slowly and cautiously we approached the
door of the library. The scene I beheld astounded me, and involuntarily
I sprang back a step or two. So did David; but in an instant we saw that
there was no need of retreat or defence. Stretched upon the floor, not
far from the doorway, lay a tall man, his face upturned to the light of
a bull's-eye lantern which stood by the mantel-piece. His eyes were
shut, and it was evident that he was perfectly insensible. Near by, in
the wreck of the small table, glasses, and decanters, lay another man,
apparently of heavier build. He also was as still as a corpse. A little
further back, half sitting on the floor, with the upper part of his body
resting against the lounge, was another man with a black mask over his
face.
"Are they dead?" exclaimed David, in an undertone of horror.
"No," said I, "they are not dead; they have been caught in my trap."
And I must admit that the consciousness of this created a proud
exultation of spirit within me. I had overmatched these rascals; they
were prostrated before me. If one of them moved, David and I could kill
him. But I did not believe there would be any killing, nor any moving
for the present.
In a high whisper, which could have been heard distinctly all over the
house, my wife now called to me from the top of the stairs. "What is
it?" she said. "What has happened?"