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the heaven of a higher levity。
〃My guide had jumped down into the dark cavity revealed by the displaced
chimney…pot。 He must have landed at a level considerably lower； for；
tall as he was； nothing but his weirdly tousled head remained visible。
Something again far off； and yet familiar； pleased me about this way
of invading the houses of men。 I thought of little chimney…sweeps；
and ‘The Water Babies；' but I decided that it was not that。
Then I remembered what it was that made me connect such topsy…turvy
trespass with ideas quite opposite to the idea of crime。
Christmas Eve； of course； and Santa Claus coming down the chimney。
〃Almost at the same instant the hairy head disappeared into the black hole；
but I heard a voice calling to me from below。 A second or two afterwards；
the hairy head reappeared； it was dark against the more fiery part of the fog；
and nothing could be spelt of its expression； but its voice called on me
to follow with that enthusiastic impatience proper only among old friends。
I jumped into the gulf； and as blindly as Curtius； for I was still thinking
of Santa Claus and the traditional virtue of such vertical entrance。
〃In every well…appointed gentleman's house； I reflected； there was
the front door for the gentlemen； and the side door for the tradesmen；
but there was also the top door for the gods。 The chimney is；
so to speak； the underground passage between earth and heaven。
By this starry tunnel Santa Claus manageslike the skylark
to be true to the kindred points of heaven and home。
Nay； owing to certain conventions； and a widely distributed lack
of courage for climbing； this door was； perhaps； little used。
But Santa Claus's door was really the front door：
it was the door fronting the universe。
〃I thought this as I groped my way across the black garret； or loft below
the roof； and scrambled down the squat ladder that let us down into a yet
larger loft below。 Yet it was not till I was half…way down the ladder that I
suddenly stood still； and thought for an instant of retracing all my steps；
as my companion had retraced them from the beginning of the garden wall。
The name of Santa Claus had suddenly brought me back to my senses。
I remembered why Santa Clause came； and why he was welcome。
〃I was brought up in the propertied classes； and with all
their horror of offences against property。 I had heard all
the regular denunciations of robbery； both right and wrong；
I had read the Ten Commandments in church a thousand times。
And then and there； at the age of thirty…four； half…way
down a ladder in a dark room in the bodily act of burglar；
I saw suddenly for the first time that theft； after all；
is really wrong。
〃It was too late to turn back； however； and I followed
the strangely soft footsteps of my huge companion across
the lower and larger loft； till he knelt down on a part
of the bare flooring and； after a few fumbling efforts；
lifted a sort of trapdoor。 This released a light from below；
and we found ourselves looking down into a lamp…lit sitting room；
of the sort that in large houses often leads out of a bedroom；
and is an adjunct to it。 Light thus breaking from beneath
our feet like a soundless explosion； showed that the trapdoor
just lifted was clogged with dust and rust； and had doubtless
been long disused until the advent of my enterprising friend。
But I did not look at this long； for the sight of the shining
room underneath us had an almost unnatural attractiveness。
To enter a modern interior at so strange an angle；
by so forgotten a door； was an epoch in one's psychology。
It was like having found a fourth dimension。
〃My companion dropped from the aperture into the room so suddenly
and soundlessly； that I could do nothing but follow him；
though； for lack of practice in crime； I was by no means soundless。
Before the echo of my boots had died away； the big burglar
had gone quickly to the door； half opened it； and stood looking
down the staircase and listening。 Then； leaving the door
still half open； he came back into the middle of the room；
and ran his roving blue eye round its furniture and ornament。
The room was comfortably lined with books in that rich and human
way that makes the walls seem alive； it was a deep and full；
but slovenly； bookcase； of the sort that is constantly ransacked
for the purposes of reading in bed。 One of those stunted
German stoves that look like red goblins stood in a corner；
and a sideboard of walnut wood with closed doors in its lower part。
There were three windows； high but narrow。 After another glance round；
my housebreaker plucked the walnut doors open and rummaged inside。
He found nothing there； apparently； except an extremely
handsome cut…glass decanter； containing what looked like port。
Somehow the sight of the thief returning with this ridiculous little
luxury in his hand woke within me once more all the revelation
and revulsion I had felt above。
〃‘Don't do it！' I cried quite incoherently； ‘Santa Claus'
〃‘Ah；' said the burglar； as he put the decanter on the table
and stood looking at me； ‘you've thought about that； too。'
〃‘I can't express a millionth part of what I've thought of；' I cried；
‘but it's something like this。。。 oh； can't you see it？ Why are children
not afraid of Santa Claus； though he comes like a thief in the night？
He is permitted secrecy； trespass； almost treacherybecause there are
more toys where he has been。 What should we feel if there were less？
Down what chimney from hell would come the goblin that should take
away the children's balls and dolls while they slept？ Could a Greek
tragedy be more gray and cruel than that daybreak and awakening？
Dog…stealer； horse…stealer； man…stealercan you think of anything
so base as a toy…stealer？'
〃The burglar； as if absently； took a large revolver from his pocket and laid
it on the table beside the decanter； but still kept his blue reflective eyes
fixed on my face。
〃‘Man！' I said； ‘all stealing is toy…stealing。 That's why
it's really wrong。 The goods of the unhappy children of men
should be really respected because of their worthlessness。
I know Naboth's vineyard is as painted as Noah's Ark。 I know
Nathan's ewe…lamb is really a woolly baa…lamb on a wooden stand。
That is why I could not take them away。 I did not mind so much；
as long as I thought of men's things as their valuables；
but I dare not put a hand upon their vanities。'
〃After a moment I added abruptly； ‘Only saints and sages ought to be robbed。
They may be stripped and pillaged； but not the poor little worldly people
of the things that are their poor little pride。'
〃He set out two wineglasses from the cupboard； filled them both；
and lifted one of them with a salutation towards his lips。
〃‘Don't do it！' I cried。 ‘It might be the last bottle of some rotten
vintage or other。 The master of this house may be quite proud of it。
Don't you see there's something sacred in the silliness of such things？'
〃‘It's not the last bottle；' answered my criminal calmly；
‘there's plenty more in the cellar。'
〃‘You know the house； then？' I said。
〃‘Too well；' he answered； with a sadness so strange as to have
something