The house was a private residence. By its boarded front door and untrimmed Boston ivy1 the burglar knew that the mistress of it was sitting on some oceanside piazza2 telling a sympathetic man in a yachting cap that no one had ever understood her sensitive, lonely heart. He knew by the light in the third-story front windows, and by the lateness of the season, that the master of the house had come home, and would soon extinguish his light and retire. For it was September of the year and of the soul, in which season the house's good man comes to consider roof gardens and stenographers as vanities, and to desire the return of his mate and the more durable3 blessings4 of decorum and the moral excellencies.
The burglar lighted a cigarette. The guarded glow of the match illuminated5 his salient points for a moment. He belonged to the third type of burglars.
This third type has not yet been recognized and accepted. The police have made us familiar with the first and second. Their classification is simple. The collar is the distinguishing mark.
When a burglar is caught who does not wear a collar he is described as a degenerate6 of the lowest type, singularly vicious and depraved, and is suspected of being the desperate criminal who stole the handcuffs out of Patrolman Hennessy's pocket in 1878 and walked away to escape arrest.
The other well-known type is the burglar who wears a collar. He is always referred to as a Raffles7 in real life. He is invariably a gentleman by daylight, breakfasting in a dress suit, and posing as a paperhanger, while after dark he plies8 his nefarious9 occupation of burglary. His mother is an extremely wealthy and respected resident of Ocean Grove10, and when he is conducted to his cell he asks at once for a nail file and the Police Gazette. He always has a wife in every State in the union and fiancées in all the Territories, and the newspapers print his matrimonial gallery out of their stock of cuts of the ladies who were cured by only one bottle after having been given up by five doctors, experiencing great relief after the first dose.
The burglar wore a blue sweater. He was neither a Raffles nor one of the chefs from Hell's Kitchen. The police would have been baffled had they attempted to classify him. They have not yet heard of the respectable, unassuming burglar who is neither above nor below his station.
This burglar of the third class began to prowl. He wore no masks, dark lanterns, or gum shoes. He carried a 38-calibre revolver in his pocket, and he chewed peppermint11 gum thoughtfully.
The furniture of the house was swathed in its summer dust protectors. The silver was far away in safe-deposit vaults12. The burglar expected no remarkable13 "haul." His objective point was that dimly lighted room where the master of the house should be sleeping heavily after whatever solace14 he had sought to lighten the burden of his loneliness. A "touch" might be made there to the extent of legitimate15, fair professional profits—loose money, a watch, a jewelled stick-pin—nothing exorbitant16 or beyond reason. He had seen the window left open and had taken the chance.
The burglar softly opened the door of the lighted room. The gas was turned low. A man lay in the bed asleep. On the dresser lay many things in confusion—a crumpled17 roll of bills, a watch, keys, three poker18 chips, crushed cigars, a pink silk hair bow, and an unopened bottle of bromo-seltzer for a bulwark19 in the morning.
The burglar took three steps toward the dresser. The man in the bed suddenly uttered a squeaky groan20 and opened his eyes. His right hand slid under his pillow, but remained there.
"Lay still," said the burglar in conversational21 tone. Burglars of the third type do not hiss22. The citizen in the bed looked at the round end of the burglar's pistol and lay still.
"Now hold up both your hands," commanded the burglar.
The citizen had a little, pointed23, brown-and-gray beard, like that of a painless dentist. He looked solid, esteemed24, irritable25, and disgusted. He sat up in bed and raised his right hand above his head.
"Up with the other one," ordered the burglar. "You might be amphibious and shoot with your left. You can count two, can't you? Hurry up, now."
"Can't raise the other one," said the citizen, with a contortion26 of his lineaments.
"What's the matter with it?"
"Rheumatism27 in the shoulder."
"Inflammatory?"
"Was. The inflammation has gone down." The burglar stood for a moment or two, holding his gun on the afflicted28 one. He glanced at the plunder29 on the dresser and then, with a half-embarrassed air, back at the man in the bed. Then he, too, made a sudden grimace30.
"Don't stand there making faces," snapped the citizen, bad-humouredly. "If you've come to burgle why don't you do it? There's some stuff lying around."
"'Scuse me," said the burglar, with a grin; "but it just socked me one, too. It's good for you that rheumatism and me happens to be old pals31. I got it in my left arm, too. Most anybody but me would have popped you when you wouldn't hoist32 that left claw of yours."
"How long have you had it?" inquired the citizen.
"Four years. I guess that ain't all. Once you've got it, it's you for a rheumatic life—that's my judgment33."
"Ever try rattlesnake oil?" asked the citizen, interestedly.
"Gallons," said the burglar. "If all the snakes I've used the oil of was strung out in a row they'd reach eight times as far as Saturn35, and the rattles34 could be heard at Valparaiso, Indiana, and back."
"Some use Chiselum's Pills," remarked the citizen.
"Fudge!" said the burglar. "Took 'em five months. No good. I had some relief the year I tried Finkelham's Extract, Balm of Gilead poultices and Potts's Pain Pulverizer36; but I think it was the buckeye I carried in my pocket what done the trick."
"Is yours worse in the morning or at night?" asked the citizen.
"Night," said the burglar; "just when I'm busiest. Say, take down that arm of yours—I guess you won't—Say! did you ever try Blickerstaff's Blood Builder?"
"I never did. Does yours come in paroxysms or is it a steady pain?"
The burglar sat down on the foot of the bed and rested his gun on his crossed knee.
"It jumps," said he. "It strikes me when I ain't looking for it. I had to give up second-story work because I got stuck sometimes half-way up. Tell you what—I don't believe the bloomin' doctors know what is good for it."
"Of mornings. And when it's goin' to rain—great Christopher!"
"Me, too," said the citizen. "I can tell when a streak38 of humidity the size of a table-cloth starts from Florida on its way to New York. And if I pass a theatre where there's an 'East Lynne' matinee going on, the moisture starts my left arm jumping like a toothache."
"It's undiluted—hades!" said the burglar.
"You're dead right," said the citizen.
The burglar looked down at his pistol and thrust it into his pocket with an awkward attempt at ease.
"Say, old man," he said, constrainedly39, "ever try opodeldoc?"
"Slop!" said the citizen angrily. "Might as well rub on restaurant butter."
"Sure," concurred40 the burglar. "It's a salve suitable for little Minnie when the kitty scratches her finger. I'll tell you what! We're up against it. I only find one thing that eases her up. Hey? Little old sanitary41, ameliorating, lest-we-forget Booze. Say—this job's off—'scuse me—get on your clothes and let's go out and have some. 'Scuse the liberty, but—ouch! There she goes again!"
"For a week," said the citizen. "I haven't been able to dress myself without help. I'm afraid Thomas is in bed, and—"
"Climb out," said the burglar, "I'll help you get into your duds."
The conventional returned as a tidal wave and flooded the citizen. He stroked his brown-and-gray beard.
"It's very unusual—" he began.
"Here's your shirt," said the burglar, "fall out. I knew a man who said Omberry's Ointment42 fixed43 him in two weeks so he could use both hands in tying his four-in-hand."
As they were going out the door the citizen turned and started back.
"'Liked to forgot my money," he explained; "laid it on the dresser last night."
The burglar caught him by the right sleeve.
"Come on," he said bluffly44. "I ask you. Leave it alone. I've got the price. Ever try witch hazel and oil of wintergreen?"
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1
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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durable
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| adj.持久的，耐久的 | |
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4
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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7
raffles
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| n.抽彩售物( raffle的名词复数 )v.以抽彩方式售（物）( raffle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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8
plies
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的第三人称单数 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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9
nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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10
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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11
peppermint
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| n.薄荷，薄荷油，薄荷糖 | |
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12
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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13
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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14
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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15
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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16
exorbitant
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| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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19
bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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contortion
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| n.扭弯，扭歪，曲解 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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28
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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30
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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31
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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32
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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33
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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34
rattles
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| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
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35
Saturn
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| n.农神，土星 | |
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36
pulverizer
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| n.粉碎机 | |
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37
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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38
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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39
constrainedly
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| 不自然地，勉强地，强制地 | |
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40
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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41
sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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42
ointment
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| n.药膏，油膏，软膏 | |
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43
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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44
bluffly
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| 率直地，粗率地 | |
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