“‘I vunder,’ said a stout, elderly Jewess, ’how der bolice know dose shentlemens gom to lotch mit me.  Zumpotty must haf toldt dem.’

“‘Yus,’ agreed an evicted tenant of doubtful occupation, ‘some bloomin’ nark has giv ’em away.  Good job too.  Tain’t playin’ the game for to go pottin’ at the coppers like that there.  Coppers ’as got their job to do same as what we ‘ave.  You know that, Mrs. Kosminsky.’

“‘Ja, dat is droo,’ said the Jewess; ’but dey might let me bring my dings mit me.  Do-morrow is Ky-fox-tay.  Now I lose my money.’

“‘How is that, Mrs. Kosminsky?’ I asked.

“’Pecause I shall sell dem not, de dings vot I buy for Ky-fox-tay; de fireworks, de gragers, de masgs and oder dings vor de chiltrens.  Dvendy-vaive shillings vort I buy.  Dey are in my room on ze zecond floor.  I ask de bolice to let me vetch dem, hot dey say no; I shall disturb de chentlemens in de front room.  Zo I lose my money pecause I sell dem not.’  Here the unfortunate woman burst into tears and I was so much affected by her distress that I instantly offered to buy the whole consignment for two pounds, whereat she wept more copiously than ever, but collected the purchase-money with great promptitude and stowed it away in a very internal pocket, displaying in the process as many layers of clothing as an old-fashioned pen-wiper.

“’Ach!  Mizder Fosper, you are zo coot to all de boor beebles, dough you are only a boor man yourzelf.  Bot it is de boor vot is de vriendts of de boor;’ and in her gratitude she would have kissed my hands if I had not prudently stuck them in my trousers pockets.

“A messenger now arrived to say that a refuge had been secured for the night, and my guests departed with many thanks and benedictions.  The street, as I looked out, was now quite deserted save for one or two prowling policemen, who, apparently bored with their hiding-places, had come forth to patrol in the open.  I did not stay to watch them, for Mrs. Kosminsky’s remarks had started a train of thought which required to be carried out quickly.  Accordingly I went in and fell to pacing the empty shop.

“The police, I assumed, were waiting for daylight to rush the house.  It was a mad plan and yet I was convinced that they had no other.  And when they should enter, in the face of a stream of bullets from those terrible automatic pistols, what a carnage there would be!  It was frightful to think of.  Why does the law permit those cowards’ tools to be made and sold?  A pistol is the one weapon that has no legitimate use.  An axe, a knife—­even a rifle, has some lawful function.  But a pistol is an appliance for killing human beings.  It has no other purpose whatever.  A man who is found with house-breaking tools in his possession is assumed to be a house-breaker.  Surely a man who carries a pistol convicts himself of the intention to kill somebody.