"He's caught, isn't he, Griggs?" stuttered Hawkins, clutching my arm.

"For the moment," I replied. "But come--let's get an officer. If that canvas gives----"

"Gives!" sneered the inventor. "Why that canvas----"

"Gawd! If I gets yer!" screamed the man in the bag.

"Oh, great Caesar!" gulped Hawkins. "It's--it's getting horrible, isn't it?"

"Aha! I heard yer then, ye cur!" roared the captive.

Hawkins' hand on my arm shook violently.

"We--we'll have to do something with him," he whispered. "What shall it be? We've got to subdue him, somehow or other."

"Why not let the chloroform work while we go out and get a couple of policemen?"

"Well, you see, it doesn't seem to be working, Griggs. Don't know why, but--phew! Did you hear that rip?"

I had heard it. I had also seen the silhouette of a long arm appear against the dim light of the window.

"Oh, Lord!" gasped Hawkins. "It's given somewhere! We'll have to squelch him now inside of ten seconds or--what the deuce shall I do, Griggs?"

"Take a chair and stun him," I replied. "That's all I can suggest. And personally I don't care for the job."

"Well--somebody's got to do something," groaned the inventor, seizing one of the bedroom chairs. "If ever he gets loose--say, where are you going, Griggs?"

"Just into the hall," I said. "I'm going to light the gas and watch the battle from a safe distance."

Hawkins clutched his chair and stared at me like a man in a nightmare.

His expression reminded me of the day when, as a boy on the farm, I took the hatchet and started out to kill my first chicken. I felt just as Hawkins looked that evening in the dark doorway of the bedroom.

"D'ye suppose it'll kill him?" he choked. "Griggs, do you think----"

A long rip resounded from the darkness. A triumphant shout followed.

Hawkins turned swiftly, raised his chair, and darted toward the man in the bag.

There was a crash, a shout, a dull blow, and a heavy fall--and just then I managed to light the gas.

Literally, I caught my breath and rubbed my eyes. For a few seconds the scene dumfounded me past action; but shortly I hurried into the apartment and struck another light.

Hawkins was stretched upon the floor groaning. His entire face seemed to have suffered violent impact with some unyielding body, and both hands covered his nose, from which the life-blood flowed freely.

And across the room, sitting against the wall, his large person decorated by sundry steel hoops and shreds of canvas, sat--William, the Hawkins' butler, staring dazedly into s.p.a.ce!

Between them lay the chair.

"Oh, Griggs, Griggs, Griggs!" moaned the inventor. "Come quick! Get my wife! I'm done for this time! He's finished me!"

"Hawkins!" I cried, shaking him. "Did he----"

"Never mind him--let him escape," replied Hawkins, faintly. "Just get my wife before I go. Good-by, old friend, good-by."

"Mr.--'Awkins!" gasped the butler, his senses returning.

"What!" shrilled the inventor, sitting bolt upright, black eyes, swelled face, and all completely forgotten. "Is that you, William?"

"Yes, sir," stammered the man. "Was--was it you I hit, sir?"

"Was it!" yelled Hawkins, struggling to his feet. "Look at this face!

What the deuce did you mean by it?"

"Beg--beg pardon, sir, but did you--did you sorter strike me with a chair, sir?"

"I--well, yes, William, I did."

"Well, I, not knowing of course as it was you, sir, I sorter hit back.

But have you got the thief, sir?"

"The what?"

"Indeed, yes, sir. There's one in the house. I was attacked here--right in this here very room. See here, sir, this bag! Just as I opened the window, he kem behind me, sir, threw it over my head, and tried to chloroform me, sir--you can smell it, sir."

"Yes. All right," said Hawkins, briefly, with what must have seemed to the man a strange lack of interest.

"You see, sir, whoever the rascal was, he must 'a' known as I intended going out this evening, sir, and that the house would be empty like. So in he sneaks from the roof, bag and all, and waits. And when I kem up the stairs, instead of going out, sir----"

"All right. That'll do. I understand," muttered Hawkins. "No one threw a bag over you. It was a new--er--sort of burglar alarm--just had it put up to-day."

"Burglar alarm!" cried the butler, staring at the remnants from which he was slowly extricating himself.

"Yes!" snapped Hawkins. "And don't stand there mumbling over it, William!"

"Yes, sir."

"Here," said the inventor, "is a--er--twenty-dollar note. You will immediately forget everything that has happened within the last half hour."

"Yes, sir," responded the butler, with a wide smile.

Hawkins led the way down-stairs. In the bathroom he paused to lave his much abused features; and by the time he had finished, my own features had had a chance to regain something like composure.

Once more in the library, which we had deserted some twenty minutes before, Hawkins threw himself rather limply into a chair.

"Well, well, well!" he muttered. "Now, who under the sun could have foreseen that?"

I forebore remarks.