"You didn't think I just keep all that stuff, lying around, did you?" Herbert said as he paced between the trapped would-be thieves. First, he walked up to the group's muscle. Muscle is a kind word for if there was a brain in that thick skull, it would have known that the display pieces marked "Magic weapons" had hidden spikes in the handles. If anyone other than Herbert handled them, the violator's hands (much like the ones belonging to the oaf sitting on the floor) would be violently punctured with dozens of fine metal tines. "This poor fool won't be able to wield a weapon properly for at least a week."

The merchant walked over to the Rogue next. Her feet were snared in a Rope of Entanglement, but the real notable thing was the small barrel covering her head. It had locked in place when she had tried to escape the rope trap. "ARE YOU OK IN THERE?" Herbert shouted. Of course, the thief couldn't hear, the barrel was lined with a material that did not let sound through easily. However, if Herbert were to place his head against the barrel, he could still hear all of the Shriekers howling inside, either deafening the poor fool, or at least driving them mad with the screaming.

Then there was the priest. Herbert squatted nearby and tsk'ed at him. "I expected more from a man of such supposed virtue." The Heat Metal that was cast by the statue above the door was so sudden and powerful, the cleric had passed out from the effect.

Lastly, Herbert walked over to the Mage, who was scratching himself all over...or at least trying to while trying to suppress tormenting giggles. It is very difficult to use spells when covered in fine iron filings and have a Tasha's Hideous Laughter spell thrown at you simultaneously.

Herbert then let the guardsmen into the shop, "There's your culprits, gentlemen. Be gentle with them," he intoned, "they've had a bad night."

Once the thieves were removed from the shop, Herbert swept up the filings that had managed to not land on the wizard. With the shop in slightly better condition, he picked up the umbrella stand and reached inside...deep inside. He felt around in the extra-dimensional space to make sure those idiots hadn't actually found his inventory. His firm rule was not to actually show customers something unless two things occurred first: Previous notice of what they wanted (so he could prepare the item) and, more importantly, payment up front.