you in the lurch that way, my dear
fellow. Besides it would break Agnes all up. We must _do_ something. _I_
think either one of those coats would go perfectly well; but if you're
so particular about your personal appearance, there's only one thing
left. We _must_ get this drawer open. Look here. We'll shove the
ice-pick in a little farther, so's to give the bolt the slightest
possible catch, and then we'll both pull, you on one handle, and I on
the other. It won't hurt the bureau. And besides, it's the only chance
left. I suppose these coats _don't_ look as if they were made for you.
What do you say?"

[Illustration: "THE SLEEVES ARE A TRIFLE SHORT, MAYBE"]

_Roberts_, disconsolately: "Oh, I suppose we'd better try. It can't be
much worse." He casts a hopeless glance around the confused and tumbled
room.

_Campbell_, absently: "Yes. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,
you know. Agnes won't be able to express her feelings anyway when she
sees this room. It looks as if a small cyclone had been joking round
here; but she'll like your devotion in doing your utmost."

_Roberts:_ "Do you think so? I'm not so sure. But we'll try it." He
pushes the ice-pick in with all his strength.

_Campbell:_ "That's it! Now then!" They each grasp a handle of the
drawer and pull. "One, two, three--pull! Once more--pull! Now the third
time--pull! And _out_ she comes!" The bolt suddenly gives and the
drawer drops violently to the floor, scattering its contents in every
direction, while the two men totter backward and cling to each other to
keep their balance. At the same moment the voices of Mrs. Roberts and
Mrs. Campbell make themselves heard without in vague cries of
astonishment, question, and apprehension, mounting into a wild shriek as
the drawer crashes to the floor.

III

_Mrs. Roberts_, without: "Oh, Edward, _is_ it a burglar?"

_Mrs. Campbell_, without: "Is it a mouse, Willis?"

_Mrs. Roberts:_ "Ring for the district telegraph--call for a policeman,
Edward! Press the ratchet down three times!"

_Mrs. Campbell:_ "Don't _kill_ him, Willis; don't you _dare_ to kill
him. Take him up with the tongs and fling him out of the window!"

_Mrs. Roberts:_ "Don't trust him, Edward: get Willis to hold him, and
press the ratchet quick!"

_Mrs. Campbell:_ "Keep him from getting back into his hole, for then
you never can tell whether he's there or not!"

_Mrs. Roberts:_ "Why don't you answer, Edward? Oh, dear, perhaps