minute account of the robbery, to which his hearers (but especially the cook and housemaid, who were of the party) listened with breathless interest.
"It was about half-past two," said Mr. Giles, "or I wouldn't swear that it mightn't have been a little nearer three, when I woke up, and turning round in my bed, as it might be so (here Mr. Giles turned round in his chair, and pulled the corner of the table-cloth over him to imitate bedclothes), I fancied I heerd a noise."
At this point of the narrative the cook turned pale, and asked the housemaid to shut the door, who asked Brittles, who asked the tinker, who pretended not to hear.
"—Heerd a noise," continued Mr. Giles. "I says at first, 'This is illusion;' and was composing myself off to sleep when I heerd the noise again, distinct."
"What sort of a noise?" asked the cook.
"A kind of a busting noise," replied Mr. Giles, looking round him.
"More like the noise of powdering an
