don't let Mr. Yollop start to tyin' you up with that muffler of his
hangin' over there in the closet by the time I've said three, I'm
goin' to shoot him. I hate to do it, 'cause he's a fine feller and
don't deserve to be shot on account of any darn' fool woman."

"I suppose you know the law provides a very unpleasant penalty for
murder," said Mrs. Champney, but her voice quavered disloyally.

"One!" began Cassius ominously.

"Do you really mean it?" she cried, and glanced frantically over her
shoulder at the open closet door.

"Two," replied Cassius.

"Count slowly," implored Mr. Yollop.

"You--you may tie my hands, Critt--Crittenden,--" chattered the
lady.

"You mustn't bite or scratch him," warned Cassius.

Sixty seconds later, Mrs. Champney stood before the burglar, her
wrists securely bound behind her back.

"Will you gag her, or must I?" demanded Cassius.

"I will give you my word of honor not to scream," faltered the
crumpling lady.