country postoffices and assaulted safes by force. In his haste he twice
failed to give the proper turns, but the third time the knob caught, and
in a moment the door swung open disclosing shelves filled with vases,
bottles, bowls, and plates in bewildering variety. A chest of silver
appealed to him distractingly as a much more tangible asset than the
pottery, and he dizzily contemplated a jewel-case containing a diamond
necklace with a pearl pendant. The moment was a critical one in The
Hopper's eventful career. This dazzling prize was his for the taking, and
he knew the operator of a fence in Chicago who would dispose of the
necklace and make him a fair return. But visions of Muriel, the beautiful,
the confiding, and of her little Shaver asleep on Humpy's bed, rose before
him. He steeled his heart against temptation, drew his candle along the
shelf and scrutinized the glazes. There could be no mistaking the red
Lang-Yao whose brilliant tints kindled in the candle-glow. He lifted it
tenderly, verifying the various points of Muriel's description, set it
down on the floor and locked the safe.

He was retracing his steps toward the conservatory and had reached the
main hall when the creaking of the stairsteps brought him up with a start.
Some one was descending, slowly and cautiously. For a second time and with
grateful appreciation of Muriel's forethought, he carefully avoided the
ferocious jaws of the bear, noiselessly continued on to the conservatory,
crept through the door, closed it, and then, crouching on the steps,
awaited developments. The caution exercised by the person descending the
stairway was not that of a householder who has been roused from slumber
by a disquieting noise. The Hopper was keenly interested in this fact.

With his face against the glass he watched the actions of a tall, elderly
man with a short, grayish beard, who wore a golf-cap pulled low on his
head--points noted by The Hopper in the flashes of an electric lamp with