CHAPTER I. The Coming Of Lad
In the mile-away village of Hampton, there had been a veritable
epidemic of burglaries--ranging from the theft of a brand-new ash-can
from the steps of the Methodist chapel to the ravaging of Mrs. Blauvelt\'s
whole lineful of clothes, on a washday dusk.
Up the Valley and down it, from Tuxedo to Ridgewood, there had been
a half-score robberies of a very different order--depredations wrought,
manifestly, by professionals; thieves whose motor cars served the
twentieth century purpose of such historic steeds as Dick Turpin\'s Black
Bess and Jack Shepard\'s Ranter. These thefts were in the line of jewelry
and the like; and were as daringly wrought as were the modest local
operators\' raids on ash-can and laundry.
It is the easiest thing in the world to stir humankind\'s ever- tense
burglar-nerves into hysterical jangling. In house after house, for miles of
the peaceful North Jersey region, old pistols were cleaned and loaded;
window fastenings and doorlocks were inspected and new hiding-places
found for portable family treasures.