How the Burglars were Trapped

We lived in a Terrace, at the time in which my tale was laid, in what we may term a sub-district of London, for we were within five miles of Charing Cross, and the dark month of December was upon us. Robberies had been frequent in our neighborhood, and no less than three houses out of ten in the Terrace had been entered by burglars, and robbed, and yet no discovery of the thieves had taken place. So ably, also, had the work of entry been accomplished, that in no case had the inmates been alarmed; and it was not until the servants descended in the morning that the discovery of a robbery was made.

In two out of three cases, an entrance had been effected through a pantry window, by removing a pane of glass, and cutting a small hole in the shutter. The window was on the ground floor and could easily be reached, therefore, from outside.—

In the third robbery, an upper window was entered by means of a knife which forced the fastening, and of course allowed the sash to be raised.

So rapidly had the robberies occurred, that the whole neighborhood was alarmed. The police shook their heads, and looked knowing, but did nothing, and, what was much to be lamented, failed to find any clue to the robbers, who, they at the same time asserted, were evidently not regular cracksmen.

Affairs had reached such a stage, that we used to sleep with a revolver close to our bedsides, when we happened to have a friend who came to stay with us a few days. This friend was an old jungle hunter and was au fait at every artifice by which the animal creation might be captured. He was delighted at the idea of having an adventure with the burglar, and scorned the belief that they were more than a match in cunning for even the average bush hunter. It was in vain that we assured him it was an axiom that an accomplished robber could effect an entrance into any house; and, in fact,… Read More