"Well?" said Hawkins, still staring at me with a rigid smile.
"Well?"
"Well, we've got to go up there and capture him," announced the
inventor, gathering himself for the task. "Come on."
"Not just yet, thank you. We'll let the chloroform get in its work
first."
"But don't you want to see the thing in actual operation?"
"Hawkins, if any one could have less curiosity about anything than I
have about seeing your crook-trap in operation----"
"All right, stay down here if you like. I'm going up."
"Suppose your burglar gets loose?" I argued. "Suppose he has a big,
wicked revolver, and learns that you're responsible for the way he's
been handled?"
Hawkins walked resolutely and silently toward the stairs. As for me,
curiosity as to his fate bested my judgment. I followed.
As we neared the top of the house, the thumping and hammering grew
louder and more vicious; and when we finally stood outside the door,
the din was actually deafening.
"That's--that's either William's room or the cook's," said Hawkins,
with a slight quaver in his tones.
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