hiding. When he concluded by repeating Mr.
Morton's order to go home and stay with his sick wife, both women
exclaimed in a breath:

"What a nice, sensible gentleman Mr. Morton is!"

CHAPTER VIII.

LUCK IN DISGUISE

But it was not Jerry's way to bide at home when such a dangerous
adventure was afoot. The more he thought of it the more he was convinced
he might be needed.

"Suppose there should be three of them burglars instead of two, and one
of our men was to get hurt; it would be a battle with odds and maybe
escape for the rogues. No--I won't get shoved aside; I'll disobey
orders, and play a game of my own."

Then the little man stationed himself behind the window-blind, although
it was a good two hours before the time set by the thieves. It was well
he did so, for at half-past four a man with a bundle rang the door-bell
at the side entrance of the Morton house.

"He's ahead of time," said Jerry. "I wonder if them p'lices are behind
the convent gate?"

The nurse-girl opened the door so quickly that she had evidently been
on the watch. The man slipped in, and Jerry noted that he was big and
brawny.

"It's going to be a mean job to tackle that fellow," he thought. Then
he went to a pile of things in a corner, and selected a stout hickory
stick.

He watched awhile longer, but nothing else happened. It grew dark. He
kissed Peggy, who held him tight a moment, looked into his eyes
lovingly, but did not protest or cry, as some wives would have done. He
waved his hand as he left the door, and, keeping close to the convent
wall, crossed the common. Into the Mortons' gate he slipped, and before
anyone could say "Jack Robinson" he had crept under the steps of the
side entrance.

He carried his good stick.

"They'll have pistols sure, and knives maybe, but give me a good whack
with this at close range, and I'll beat 'em, pistols and all."

His position was cramped and uncomfortable, but he did not care. He
crouched into as small a space as possible. The time seemed long, but
he never thought of giving up; he was there to stay.

The convent bell tolled the hours: eight, nine, ten. Then a step, soft
and slow on the pavement, and he saw two feet. Another step as noiseless
as a wild beast's; and he saw two more feet.

Jerry was right. There were three men instead of two--one inside, two
out.

Presently came whispered words too low for him to catch, and he heard a
bolt cautiously slipped.

One pair of