"Who's there?"

"Let us in," answered a voice, which I recognised immediately as
the voice of Shifty Dick.

"Wait a bit, my dear, and let me explain," said a second voice,
in the low, oily, jeering tones of Dick's companion--the wickedly
clever little man whom he called Jerry. "You are alone in the
house, my pretty little dear. You may crack your sweet voice with
screeching, and there's nobody near to hear you. Listen to
reason, my love, and let us in. We don't want cider this time--we
only want a very neat-looking pocketbook which you happen to
have, and your late excellent mother's four silver teaspoons,
which you keep so nice and clean on the chimney-piece. If you let
us in we won't hurt a hair of your head, my cherub, and we
promise to go away the moment we have got what we want, unless
you particularly wish us to stop to tea. If you keep us out, we
shall be obliged to break into the house and then--"

"And then," burst in Shifty Dick, "we'll _mash_ you!"

"Yes," said Jerry, "we'll mash you, my beauty. But you won't
drive us to doing that, will you? You will let us in?"

This long parley gave me time to recover from the effect which
the first bang at the door had produced on my nerves. The threats
of the two villains would have terrified some women out of their
senses, but the only result they produced on _me_ was violent
indignation. I had, thank God, a strong spirit of my own, and the
cool, contemptuous insolence of the man Jerry effectually roused