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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Possibly now it may not be past your understanding to grasp why I feel so secure about that flimsy little silver-safe." "I think I see. The burglar, presumably, comes in at the window, is knocked senseless by your trap, and next morning you find and capture him as you go down to breakfast?" "Nothing of the sort. Look here." Hawkins picked up the affair.
"And now let's have some of that old Scotch. I feel a little weak." We loitered into the next apartment the dining-room. We turned our footsteps toward the sideboard. We stopped both of us as if transformed to stone. The door was off the silver-safe. The drawers lay about the floor. And the little safe itself was as empty as the day it left the cabinet-maker!
"Most of the little wrinkles are my own ideas, too." "That sideboard?" I asked, indicating a frail-looking but artistic bit of furniture built into the wall. "That, too combination of sideboard and silver-safe." "Safe!" I laughed. "You don't keep the silver in there?" "Why not?" "My dear man, any one could pry that door off with a pen-knife." "Admitted.
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