An alarm began to beat a deafening staccato in the hall outside the library.  Bibby rushed gurgling from the room.  Several tall men in knee breeches and silk stockings dashed excitedly up and down stairs using expressions such as had never before been heard by Mr. Hepplewhite, and the clanging gong of a police wagon was audible as it clattered up the Avenue.

“Oh, Mr. Hepplewhite,” whispered Mrs. Witherspoon, unconsciously seeking his hand.  “I never was so frightened in my life!”

Then the gong stopped and the police poured into the house and up the stairs.  There were muffled noises and suppressed ejaculations of “Aw, come on there, now!  I’ve got him, Mike!  No funny business now, you!  Come along quiet!”

The whole house seemed blue with policemen, and Mr. Hepplewhite became aware of a very fat man in a blue cap marked Captain, who removed the cap deferentially and otherwise indicated that he was making obeisance.  Behind the fat man stood three other equally fat men, who held between them with grim firmness, by arm, neck and shoulder, a much smaller—­in fact, quite a small—­man shabby, unkempt, and with a desperate look upon his unshaven face.

“We’ve got him, all right, Mr. Hepplewhite!” exulted the captain, obviously grateful that God had vouchsafed to deliver the criminal into his and not into other hands.  “Shall I take him to the house—­or do you want to examine him?”

“I?” ejaculated Mr. Hepplewhite.  “Mercy, no!  Take him away as quickly as possible!”

“As you say, sir,” wheezed the captain.  “Come along, boys!  Take him over to court and arraign him!”

“Yes, do!” urged Mrs. Witherspoon.  “And arraign him as hard as you can; for he really frightened me nearly to death, the terrible man!”

“Leave him to me, ma’am!” adjured the captain “Will you have your butler act as complainant sir?” he asked.

“Why—­yes—­Bibby will do whatever is proper,” agreed Mr. Hepplewhite.  “It will not be necessary for me to go to court, will it?”

“Oh, no!” answered the captain.  “Mr. Bibby will do all right.  I suppose we had better make the charge burglary, sir?”

“I suppose so,” replied Mr. Hepplewhite vaguely.

“Get on, boys,” ordered the captain.  “Good evening, sir.  Good evening, ma’am.  Step lively, you!”

The blue cloud faded away, bearing with it both Bibby and the burglar.  Then the third footman brought the belated tea.

“What a frightful thing to have happen!” grieved Mrs. Witherspoon as she poured out the tea for Mr. Hepplewhite.  “You don’t take cream, do you?”

“No, thanks,” he answered.  “I find too much cream hard to digest.  I have to be rather careful, you know.  By the way, you haven’t told me where the burglar was or what he was doing when you went into the room.”

“He was in the bed,” said Mrs. Witherspoon.

* * * * *