The Stories of the Three Burglars

In Short

This narrative follows a suburban resident who ensnares three burglars in a cleverly rigged trap. Rather than delivering them immediately to the law, he and his family allow the men to stay, bound on a wooden bench, and narrate their life stories. The book is a witty, satirical exploration of the era’s fascination with "realistic" crime reporting, contrasting the grim reality of criminal intent with the absurd, self-serving narratives the burglars construct to win sympathy. It remains a sharp, humorous critique of how people manipulate stories to mask their true characters.

The Story

The protagonist, a householder living twenty miles outside of New York, grows tired of the local crime wave and decides to secure his home with a homemade trap. One night, he is awakened by a crash, discovers the device has worked, and finds three men incapacitated by drugged wine in his library. He and his man, David, secure the trio to a wooden bench, ready to hand them over to the authorities. However, the householder’s wife and his visiting Aunt Martha are curious about the intruders. When the burglars—a tall, sophisticated-seeming young man; a stout, pragmatic thief; and a third accomplice—express a desire to explain their actions, Aunt Martha insists they be heard.

The burglars, sensing an opportunity for clemency or at least a reprieve from the law, begin to recount their histories. The stout burglar explains his trade with brutal honesty, describing past rivalries with fellow criminals and his own misfortunes in the field. He tells of a botched business deal involving a "Boilene" manufacturer and a gold-mouse trap that landed him in prison. The young man, who speaks with a refined, educated air, tells a far more fantastic tale, claiming he was forced into a life of crime by circumstances beyond his control. He spins a complex narrative about his youth in Austria, a secret love affair, and his inexplicable companionship with an invisible dog that protected him through various adventures.

The household is captivated by these accounts, particularly Aunt Martha, who finds the young man’s story especially convincing. As the night deepens, the atmosphere of curiosity gives way to the inevitable arrival of the police. The burglars are finally untied and led away in manacles, but the young man manages one final, surreptitious act of gallantry—or perhaps opportunism—by kissing the housemaid before being apprehended. David, who has remained suspicious throughout, catches him, and the final struggle reveals the young man’s true, aggressive nature.

In the aftermath, it is discovered that these men were not misunderstood figures of romantic intrigue, but dangerous criminals wanted for numerous serious offenses. While the authorities are pleased to have captured them, Aunt Martha remains crestfallen. She struggles to reconcile the polite, articulate young man she listened to with the violent reality of his crimes, ultimately concluding that his preoccupation with "Realism" and his penchant for storytelling were merely tools of a well-practiced deceiver. The book closes on a note of dry irony, as the family reflects on the deceptive power of a well-told lie.

How It Unfolds

The trap is set The narrator grows weary of suburban burglaries and rigs his library to catch intruders. He is aided by his man, David, and a supply of drugged wine meant to incapacitate anyone who breaks in.

Discovery and capture A crash in the middle of the night signals the success of the trap. The narrator and David find three men unconscious, whom they promptly secure to a bench.

The storytelling begins Aunt Martha, intrigued by the burglars, insists that they be allowed to speak before the police arrive. The householder and his wife agree, and the three captives begin their respective accounts of how they arrived at this life.

The stout burglar’s confession The eldest burglar offers a gritty, unvarnished look at the difficulties of the criminal trade. He describes failures in business and the betrayal of his partners, painting a portrait of a hard, unglamorous life.

The young man’s fantasy The youngest captive weaves a bizarre and literary tale involving European castles, lost love, and a supernatural invisible dog. His eloquence leaves Aunt Martha questioning whether a man of such creative potential could truly be a villain.

The police arrive The law finally reaches the house, and the burglars are led away in chains. The narrator watches as the young man, momentarily left alone, reveals his true, manipulative personality by harassing the maid.

The aftermath The men are identified as hardened criminals, not the misunderstood figures they portrayed. The narrator’s family realizes the danger they were in, leaving Aunt Martha to lament that the young man’s talent for fiction was his most dangerous asset.

The People

The narrator is a methodical, somewhat prideful householder who views his capture of the burglars as a personal success. He is pragmatic and skeptical, contrasting sharply with his Aunt Martha. Martha is the soul of the household’s curiosity; she is compassionate and deeply invested in the "humanity" of the intruders, even when evidence suggests they are dangerous. David, the man-servant, serves as the grounding force; he is suspicious, loyal, and consistently ready to use force against the burglars. The three burglars themselves are a study in contrast: the stout man is a cynical, blunt career criminal, while the young man is a clever, manipulative storyteller who uses his education and charm to project a false air of tragedy. Finally, the householder’s wife acts as an anxious observer who, despite her initial caution, is drawn into the strange, late-night theatre of the burglars’ tales.

In Its Own Voice

"I think that what you say is true," remarked my wife; "but still if he has a story to tell I should like to hear it."

The wife joins Aunt Martha in pressuring the narrator to allow the captured thieves to speak before they are turned over to the police.

"I have no doubt before he fell in his wicked ways that he was a very good writer, and might have become a novelist or a magazine author; but his case is a very sad proof that the study of Realism may be carried too far."

Aunt Martha reflects on the young burglar’s talent for narrative, realizing his storytelling was merely a sophisticated form of deception.

What It's Really About

At its heart, the book is a satire on the late 19th-century obsession with "realistic" literature and the public’s tendency to romanticize criminal behavior. By framing the burglars as narrators, the author asks whether a well-told story can supersede objective truth in the eyes of an audience. The householder’s home—a place of safety—becomes a stage where the boundaries between life and art are blurred. The book suggests that our desire for empathy can often make us susceptible to those who manipulate language to justify their misdeeds. It is a cautionary tale about the seduction of "realism" and the danger of confusing a character's eloquence with their moral worth.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy dry, intellectual wit and turn-of-the-century suburban manners will find much to admire here. It reads like a parlor comedy with a dark edge, moving quickly through its absurd premise. Those who appreciate a narrator who is both slightly smug and self-aware will enjoy the householder’s perspective on his "little farce."

The book is not without its period-specific challenges; the language occasionally reflects the dated, sometimes stuffy social attitudes of 1889, and the "realism" mentioned by the characters is a specific aesthetic debate of that time. However, the core tension—the struggle between our desire to believe in a person's "story" and the cold, hard facts of their actions—feels surprisingly contemporary. You will likely walk away from it thinking about the way we curate our own biographies and how easily we are swayed by a charismatic speaker. It is a brief, sharp, and ultimately clever book that avoids the sentimental endings typical of its era, leaving the reader with a lingering, cynical smile regarding the nature of truth and the power of a practiced performance.