The Night's Catch

Footpads continue to infest city streets, and "hold-ups" are of almost nightly occurrence.

"Jane, dearie," said the worthy
citizen, nervously, "I have to ven-
ture out into the world tonight."

"Not after dark, James!" cried his
wife in alarm.

"I fear that I must."

"But, James, could you not tele-
phone?"

James shook his head sorrowfully.
"The matter is urgent," he said,
"and will admit of no delay. I must
attend to it personally."

His wife regarded him with
frightened eyes, looking from a white,
scared face. (All rights reserved).

"You must take the smallest pos-
sible risk," she said. "Leave all your
money and your valuables in the
house—your watch, your signet ring,
your tie-pin, your silver pencil, your
fountain pen."

At the next corner he met the foot-
pads.

"It's no use, boys," he said, with a
nervous laugh, as he looked down the
barrel of an automatic. "You've
drawn a blank tonight. I haven't a
thing of value on me."

"We'll see about that," said the first
footpad, going systematically through
the citizen's pockets. "Well, if that
ain't a dirty trick!" he cried, after a
vain search. "Wait a bit, though.
'Old 'is arms, Bill."

James was held from behind in a
vice-like grip.

"Now," said the first footpad, "open
yer mouth."

James obeyed promptly.

"Wot a lovely lay," cried the chief
footpad. "Nothin' of value on yeh,
eh? Why, yeh've got three real good
gold teeth there! Git 'im on the 'ead,
Bill; an' 'and me them tweezers!"