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“Widow Wilmerton’s boy?” asked Philo Gubb.

“Exactly!” said Snooks, feeling his eye with his finger. “And he says, ‘Snooks, did you hear what the Ladies’ Temperance League did last night?’ I hadn’t heard. ‘I heard ma say,’ says Sammy, ‘but don’t say I told you. They got up a petition to have City Attorney Mullen impeached by the City Council.’

“Well, that was news! I went into the ‘Eagle’ office and called up Mullen.

“‘Hello! Is that Attorney Mullen?’ I says.

“‘Yes,’ he says.

“‘Well, something happened last night,’ I says, ‘and I’d like to see you about it.’

“‘How do you know what happened?’ he says.

“‘No matter,’ I says; ‘can I come up?’

“After a half a minute he says, ‘Oh, yes! Come up. Come right away. I’ll be waiting for you.’

“So I went.”

“Nothing strange about that,” said Philo Gubb, shifting himself on the ladder.

“So I went,” continued Snooks. “I rang the doorbell and, the moment it rang, the door flew open and–bliff!–down came a bed-blanket over me and somebody grabbed me in his arms and lugged me into the house. I guess it was Attorney Mullen–you know how big and husky he is. But I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see anything. Only, every two seconds, bump! he hit at my head through the blanket. That’s how I got this eye. And, all the time, he was talking to me, mad as a hatter, and I couldn’t hear a word he said. But I could hear his wife screaming at the top of the stairs, and I could hear Nan screaming, and I heard a window go up.

“‘Stop that yelling!’ says Mullen, in a voice I could hear, and then he picked me up again and carried me to the back door, and opened it and threw me all the way down the eight steps. I chucked off the blanket, and I was going up the steps again, to show him he couldn’t treat me that way, when–bing!–somebody next door took a shot at me with a revolver. Thought I was a burglar, I guess. I started to run for the back gate, when–bing!–somebody shot at me from the other house. What do you think of that? For a few minutes it sounded like the battle of San Juan, and I can’t understand yet why I didn’t suffer an awful loss of life.”

“But you didn’t?” asked Philo Gubb.

“No, siree! I made a dive for the cellar door, just as they got the range. I stayed in the cellarway, with the bullets pattering on it like hail, until the cop came. Tim Fogarty was the cop. He ordered ‘Cease firing!’ and the shower stopped, and I let him capture me. He took me to the calaboose, and this morning, early, he had me before the judge, and I’m held for the grand jury, and the charge is burglary and petit larceny. Now what is the answer?”

“Being pulled into a house and thrown out the other door isn’t burglary,” said Philo Gubb. “Burglary is breaking in or breaking out. Maybe Attorney Mullen mistook you for some one else.”

“Mistook nothing!” said Snooks. “He was in the court-room this morning. He handled the case against me. Who is that?”

Some one was climbing the back steps, and Snooks made one dive for the cellar door, and slipped inside. He knew how to get out through the cellar, for he was familiar with it. He did not wait now, but opened the outside cellar door, and after looking to see that the way was clear, hurried back to the jail.

Philo Gubb did not have time to descend from his ladder before the kitchen door opened. The visitor was Policeman Fogarty.

“Mawrnin’!” he said, removing his hat and wiping the sweat-band with his red handkerchief. “Don’t ye get down, Misther Gubb, sor. I want but a wurrd with ye. I seen Snooksy Tur-rner here but a sicond ago, me lookin’ in at the windy, an’ you an’ him conversin’. Mayhap he was speakin’ t’ ye iv his arrist?”