of ghosts than of burglars. Bodwell at first thought that she meant there were burglars in his house, but finally he quieted down and called the police for us over an extension phone by his bed. After he had disappeared from the window, mother suddenly made as if to throw another shoe, not because there was further need of it but, as she later explained, because the thrill of heaving a shoe through a window glass had enormously taken her fancy. I prevented her.
The police were on hand in a commendably short time: a Ford sedan full of them, two on motorcycles, and a patrol wagon with about eight in it and a few reporters. They began banging at our c. What were the various sounds the brothers heard when they went downstairs? d.
Who were the narrator's neighbours ? 10th - - front door. Flashlights shot streaks of gleam up and down the walls, across the yard, down the walk between our house and Bodwell’s. ‘Open up!’ cried a hoarse voice.
‘We’re men from Headquarters!’ I wanted to go down and let them in, since there they were, but mother wouldn’t hear of it. ‘You haven’t a stitch on,’ she pointed out. ‘You’d catch your death.’ I wound the towel around me again. Finally the cops put their shoulders to our big heavy front door with its thick bevelled glass and broke it in: I could hear a rending of wood and a splash of glass on the floor of the hall.
Their lights played all over the living- room and crisscrossed nervously in the dining-room, stabbed into hallways, shot up the front stairs and finally up the back. They caught me standing in my towel at the top. A heavy policeman bounded up the steps. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘I live here,’ I said. The officer in charge reported to mother. ‘No sign of nobody, lady,’ he said. ‘Musta got away – whatt’d he like?’ ‘There were two or three of them,’ mother said, ‘whooping and carrying on slamming doors.’ ‘Funny,’ said the