hem in his pockets, after which he
placed a muzzle of a pistol in the back of the robber's neck and
sharply commanded:

"Hands up!"

Up went the robber's hands as if he were a jumping-jack jerked by a
string, whereupon his late victim, doubtless animated by the same
emotions as those of the other citizens, fled away like the wind, but
not in silence, for at every jump he bellowed, "Thieves, murder,
help!"

A window slammed up in the house before which they were standing and
the glare of an electric bicycle lamp played full upon Mr. Middleton
and his prisoner.

"I've got him," said Mr. Middleton, proudly.

"Got him! Got him!" gasped an astonished voice. "Well, of all
effrontery! Got him, you miserable thief? The police are coming and
they'll get you, and I can identify you, if they don't succeed in
nabbing you red-handed."

Shocked and almost paralyzed, Mr. Middleton turned to expostulate with
the misled householder, when the robber, seizing the opportunity, fled
away like the wind, bellowing at every jump, "Thieves, murder, help!"
and as if aroused by the sound of his compatriot's voice, the thief
who had been lying unconscious in the street all this while, arose and
hastened away, somewhat unsteadily, it is true, yet at a considerable
degree of speed.

It did not require any extended reflective processes for Mr. Middleton
to tell himself that if he waited for the police, he would be in a
very bad plight, for he had the stolen property upon his person, the
thieves had gone, and even if the victims were able to say he was not
one of the two original thieves--which their disturbed state of mind
made most uncertain--they would be likely to declare him a thief
notwithstanding, a charge which the stolen property on his person
would bear out. The police could now be heard down the street and the
householder was making the welkin ring with vociferous shouts. With a
sudden access of rage at this individual whose well-intended efforts
had thwarted justice and might yet fasten crime upon innocence, Mr.
Middleton pointed a pistol at the upper pane of the window where shone
the bicycle lamp. There was a roar that shook the air, followed by a
crash of glass and the clatter of a dozen bullets upon the brick wall
of the house, and a shriek of terror from the householder and the
bicycle lamp instantly vanished. With a heart strangely at peace in
the midst of the dangers that encompassed him, Mr. Middleton sped up
the street,