Yollop | Page 5

Cassius."
"Well, I don't mind it a bit. Fact is, I've been doin' my best to get
nabbed for the last three months."
"You have?"
"Sure. The trouble is with the police. They somehow seem to overlook
me, no matter how open I am about it. I suppose I've committed twenty
burglaries in the past three months and I'll be cussed if I can make 'em
understand. Take to-night, for instance. I clumb up that fire
escape,--this is the third floor, ain't it?--I clumb up here with a big
electric street light shinin' square on my back, --why, darn the luck, I
had to turn my back on it 'cause the light hurt my eyes,--and there were
two cops standin' right down below here talkin' about the crime wave
bein' all bunk, both of 'em arguin' that the best proof that there ain't no
crime wave is the fact that the jails are only half full, showin' that the
city is gettin' more and more honest all the time. I could hear 'em plain
as anything. They were talkin' loud, so as to make everybody in this
buildin' rest easy, I guess. I stopped at the second floor and monkeyed
with the window, hopin' to attract their attention. Didn't work. So I had
to climb up another flight. This window of yours was up about six
inches, so there wasn't anything for me to do but to raise it and come in.
What I had in mind was to stick my head out after a minute or two and
yell 'thieves', 'police', and so on. Then before I knowed what was
happenin', you walks in, switches on the light, and comes straight over
and biffs me in the jaw. Does that look as if I was tryin' to avoid

arrest?"
"That's a very pretty story, Cassius, and no doubt will make a
tremendous hit with the jury, but what were you doing with a loaded
revolver in your hand, and why were you so full of vituperation,--I
mean, what made you swear so when I--"
"You let somebody hit you a wallop on the jaw and bang your head
against the wall and dance on your ribs, and you'll cuss worse than I
did."
"But,--about the revolver?"
"Well, to be honest with you, I probably would have shot you if I hadn't
been so low in my mind. I won't deny that. It's a sort of principle with
us, you see. No self-respecting burglar wants to be captured by the
party he's tryin' to rob. Its so damn' mortifyin'. Besides, if that sort of
thing happens to you, the police lose all kinds of respect for you and try
to use you as a stool-pigeon, if you know what that means."
"This is most interesting, I must say. I should like to hear more about it,
Mr. Smilk. I dare say we can have quite a long and edifying chat while
we are waiting for the police to respond to our call for help. In the
meantime, you might see if you can get them now. Spring, three one
hundred."
"As I was sayin' awhile ago, would you mind puttin' that gun in your
pocket?"
"While you've been chinning, Cassius, I have been making a most
thrilling and amazing experiment. Do you call this thing under here a
trigger?"
"Yes. Don't monkey with it, you--you--"
"I've been pressing it,--very gently and cautiously, of course,--to see
just how near I can come to making it go off without actually--"
"For God's sake! Cut that--Hey, Central! Give me police headquarters
again. ... Lively, please. ... Yes, it's life or death. ... Come on,
Mademoiselle,--please!"
"That's the way," complimented Mr. Yollop.
"By gosh, nobody ever wanted the police more than I do at this
minute," gulped Mr. Smilk. He was perspiring freely. "Hello! Police
headquarters? ... Hustle someone to--to--(over his shoulder to Mr.
Yollop, in a whisper,)--quick! What's the number of this,--"
"418 Sagamore Terrace."

Into the transmitter: "To 418 Sagamore Terrace, third floor front.
Burglar. Hurry up!"
Telephone: "What's yer name?"
Smilk, to Yollop: "What is my name?"
Mr. Yollop: "Crittenden Yollop."
Smilk, to telephone: "Crittelyum Yop."
Telephone, languidly: "Spell it."
Smilk: "Aw, go to--"
Mr. Yollop: "After me now,--Y-o-l-l-o-p."
Telephone: "First name."
Smilk, prompted. "C-r-i-t-t-e-n-d-e-n."
Telephone, after interval: "What floor?"
Smilk: "Third."
Telephone: "Are you sure it's a burglar, or is it just a noise
somewhere?"
Smilk: "It's a burglar. He's got me covered."
Telephone: "What's that?"
Smilk: "I say, I've got him covered. Hurry up or he'll blow my head
off--"
Telephone: "Say, what IS this? Get back to bed, you. You're drunk."
Smilk: "I'm as sober as you are. Can't you get me straight? I tell you I
beat his head off. He's down and out,--but---"
Telephone: "All right. We'll have