Daphne raised her delicate eyebrows and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“‘The fewer men,’” she quoted, “‘the greater share of—­plunder.’”

The shoulders began to shake.

“Touche,” was the reply.  “A pretty thrust, madam.  But you must read further on.  ’And gentlemen in Mayfair now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.’  Shall we say that—­er—­honours are easy?” And the old villain fairly rocked with merriment.

Daphne laughed airily.

“Good for you,” she said.  “As a matter of fact, sitting here, several things look extremely easy.”

“So, on the whole, they are.  Mind you, lookers-on see the easy side.  And you, madam, are a very privileged spectator.”

“I have paid for my seat,” flashed my sister.

“Royally.  Still, deadhead or not, a spectator you are, and, as such, you see the easy side.  Now, one of the greatest dangers that can befall a thief is avarice.”

“I suppose you’re doing this out of charity,” I blurted.

“Listen.  Many a promising career of—­er—­appropriation has come to an abrupt and sordid end, and all because success but whetted where it should have satisfied.”  He addressed my sister.  “Happily for you, you do not sleep in your pearls.  Otherwise, since you are here, I might have fallen...  Who knows?  As it is, pearls, diamonds and the emerald bracelets that came from Prague—­you see, madam, I know them all—­will lie upstairs untouched.  I came for silver, and I shall take nothing else.  Some day, perhaps...”

The quiet sing-song of his voice faded, and only the murmur of the ceaseless dictation remained.  Then that, too, faltered and died....

For a second master and men stood motionless.  Then the former pointed to Daphne and me, and Numbers Three and Four whipped to our side.

Somebody, whistling softly, was descending the stairs....

Just as it became recognizable the air slid out of a whistle into a song, and my unwitting brother-in-law invested the last two lines with all the mockery of pathos of which his inferior baritone voice was capable.

“I’m for ever b-b-blowing b-b-bub-b-bles,
B-blinkin’ b-bub-b-bles in the air.”

He entered upon the last word, started ever so slightly at his reception, and then stood extremely still.

“Bubbles be blowed,” he said.  “B-b-burglars, what?  Shall I moisten the lips?  Or would you rather I wore a sickly smile?  I should like it to be a good photograph.  You know, you can’t touch me, Reggibald.  I’m in balk.”  His eyes wandered round the room.  “Why, there’s Nobby.  And what’s the game?  Musical Chairs?  I know a better one than that.”  His eyes returned to the master.  “Now, don’t you look and I’ll hide in the hassock!  Then, when I say ‘Cuckoo,’ you put down the musket and wish.  Then—­excuse me.”

Calmly he twitched a Paisley shawl from the back of the sofa and crossed to his wife.  Tenderly he wrapped it about her feet and knees.  By the time he had finished a third chair was awaiting him, and Numbers Three and Four had returned to their work.