Mr. Callaghan was busily engaged in an inspection of silverware that seemed to interest him exceedingly. He examined each object carefully, often stopping long enough to test the particular object with his teeth, or even to bend it. At the same time his actions were quiet, and, one might say, reserved. He did not appear to care to be noticed.^[1]

He was a rather tall young fellow, carelessly dressed, as they say in novels, and he had a pale face, like a student’s. One might, indeed, have thought him a poor student, were it not for his eyes, which, instead of looking tired and dreamy, like a student’s, were exceedingly active and restless. On the whole, his face and his general appearance were not pre-possessing. Indeed, the policeman on the beat most frequented by Mr. Callaghan in social life, reported him at the Precinct House as “a general tough--suspicious.”

Mr. Callaghan, although very young, had already learned the value of exceeding caution. Hence, he was almost noiseless; and he inspected the silverware in the very mild light of a half-opened dark lantern. A happy smile played around the corners of his face for a while, for the silverware he was examining proved to be of the finest and newest, and bore the monogram of a famous New York family. For that matter, the entire surroundings of Mr. Callaghan, at that time, were of the richest. The very sideboard at which he labored was worth a small fortune, and the cut glass upon it looked very beautiful in the mellow light. There were rich red tints in some of the glassware, occasioned by their contents, but Mr. Callaghan did not stop to examine them. He did not believe in drinking during business hours. The time was something after midnight.

Mr. Callaghan was aroused from his pre-occupation by a faint click. It sounded very much like the click of the trigger, as a revolver is cocked. ’Twas a trifle startling, but he did not lose his presence of mind. He faced around like a flash, and turned off the rays of his dark lantern. He knew it was almost useless to take the latter precaution, however, for he was well informed, and knew that, in the houses of the rich of to-day, it required but the pressure of a button to turn on a full stream of electric lights throughout an entire floor. The sudden burst of light came, just as he expected it would, and as it did so, he heard a voice say “Don’t dare to move!”

He was more startled by the voice than he was by the sudden glare of electric light, for it was the voice of a young girl!! Mr. Callaghan blinked a few times, took a good look, and then his thin face broadened a trifle into a smile. At the other end of the room stood a very pale but resolute girl in a pink wrapper. She held a little gold-mounted revolver, of a calibre so small that Mr. CallaghanCallaghan but for his natural politeness, would have laughed at it outright, and she was biting her lip, for she was apparently rather nervous. The revolver was pointed in Mr. Callaghan’sCallaghan’s direction, but alas! the hand that held it was shaking very perceptibly^[2]....

Callaghan grinned. “Isn’t it rather late for you to be out?” he asked her.

“Don’t dare to move,” she replied; “I know precisely what to do. Papa told me before he went away. I’m going to sound the burglar alarm and have you arrested; then you will be sent to State’s Prison.”

“Well,” almost laughed Mr. Callaghan, “why don’t you do it? I’m waiting.”

“Because,” she answered, hesitatingly,--“because you’re standing in front of it.”

“Oh, am I?” answered Callaghan. “Then I’ll move away, I always like to be polite to ladies.” He moved away a few steps. She frowned a little bit. Then she said “Excuse me. Will you please move a little further away?” “Certainly,” he replied, “anything to oblige a real lady.”

She stepped toward the alarm, which Callaghan had not, until then, perceived, and stretched forth her hand.^[3]

She was about to turn the little handle, when Callaghan said hastily: “Hold on a minute. Do you think that would be a nice thing to do?”

“Of course it would,” she answered.

“Just think about it a moment,” Callaghan continued; “if you did that, I’d be arrested, and sent up for fifteen or twenty years. Fifteen or twenty years, in a little cell, all by myself, with no one to talk to and nothing to do--except break stones for my health. Now, I don’t care anything about it myself, of course; I havn’t done you any wrong. I havn’t got away with the silver, and therefore, there isn’t any wrong done you, is there? I tried to, but you’ve got the best of me, and you’re an awfully brave little girl to do it, too. But just think of yourself during the next fifteen or twenty years, if you have me sent up. Every day you’ll be thinking about the poor fellow who’s doing time because you made him; and every night you’ll be lying awake, crying, because you made him suffer so much, for such a little thing; and every time the minister in your church says anything about forgiving your enemies, you’ll be thinking he means you; and,”

She broke in “I think I’ll let you go.” She said it very earnestly.

Callaghan laughed aloud. “That’s right,” he said, “I knew you would, for I knew you were a lady the minute I saw you. I didn’t mean what I said. Probably in a month you’d forget all about me. No one remembers a fellow who’s doing time, but the police and the detectives. I was just trying an experiment. Do you think I was afraid you’d call the police? Nonsense. Do you think I was afraid of your little revolver? Nonsense. I’ve been shot twice by real revolvers. If you’d tried to sound the burglar alarm, do you know what I’d have done? I’d have made a quick jump for you and I’d have my hands about your throat before you could have winked. If you’d fired the revolver, you’d missed me. Girls can’t shoot.”

He said this last almost contemptuously, but he was sorry a moment after, for he noticed that she was growing very white, and very frightened too. Nevertheless, he continued: “And after I’d got my hands about your neck, and you couldn’t scream or struggle or shoot, what do you suppose I’d have done?”

She did not reply. She could not speak. She was trembling violently. “I’d have--I’d--,” he was embarrassed, and he actually blushed,--Callaghan blushed--“I’d have kissed you,” he said with an effort, “and then I’d have gone away. But you needn’t look frightened any longer. I ain’t going to hurt you, and I ain’t going to kiss you; for some day you’d be ashamed of it. You’d be ashamed to tell your sweetheart that Rocky Callaghan kissed you; and I ain’t goin’ to take any thing that belongs to this house, although I could, right before your eyes. I’m just going home peaceably.”

He started to walk toward the window by which he had entered.^[4] As he did so, however, he looked at her critically, stopped, and said: “You’re going to hold out just about till I’m gone. Then you are going to faint. I can’t leave you here alone in a faint. I’ll fix it.”

He walked deliberately to the sideboard and poured out a glass of ice-water. “Here,” said he, “drink this, and then go upstairs as quick as you can. I’ll lock the window after I go out.”^[5]

She took the water with a frightened “Thank you,” and drank it. Mr. Callaghan turned to leave. “That brings the red back in your cheeks,” he said.... “Now, I’m going, but I want you to remember that I’m not afraid of the burglar alarm nor of your little revolver. I’m not going to rob you because--because you’re so brave and because you’re so pretty. I sort of hate to make a failure of a job, and I guess the boys will guy me a bit for it; but you are too pretty.” Saying which, Mr. Callaghan climbed nimbly through the window and disappeared.