ered that he was to meet the detectives,
who were moving heaven and earth to get Connie back for him, not later
than three o'clock.

They were to meet by appointment in a certain street, and the hour of
rendezvous was quickly approaching. He got there in good time; but what
was his amazement to see, not only the two detectives--ordinary-looking
men in plain clothes--but also the street preacher?

The street preacher came up to him eagerly. The detectives also followed
close.

"Harris," said Atkins, "you can thank God on your knees--your child is
safe at home."

"Wot?" said Harris.

In that instant something sharp as a sword went through his heart. Oh,
what a mean, terrible, horrible wretch he was! What a cowardly deed he
had just committed! And yet God was kind, and had given him back his
child.

"Connie is in your room, waiting for you," said Atkins. "I went in not
an hour ago, hoping to find you, and there she was."

"It's very queer," said Detective Z. "You should have been there also,
and have questioned the girl. There isn't the least doubt that she could
give the most valuable information, but she won't utter a word--not a
word."

"Won't she, now?" said Harris. "Perhaps not to you, but she wull, quick
enough, to her own father."

The entire party then turned in the direction of Harris's rooms. They
went up the stairs, and Harris flung the door wide. A little, slight
girl, in the identical same dark-blue dress which Harris had bought for
her with such pride not many weeks ago, was standing near the fire.
Already her womanly influences had been at work.

The fire burned brightly. The room was tidy. The girl herself was
waiting--expectation, fear, longing, all expressed in her sensitive
face.

"Father!" she cried as Harris--brutal, red of face, self-reproachful, at
once the most miserable and the gladdest man on earth--almost staggered
into the room.

He took the slim little creature into his arms, gave her a few fierce,
passionate kisses; then saying, "It is good to have yer back, wench,"
pushed her from him with unnecessary violence. He sank into a seat,
trembling all over. The two detectives marked his agitation and were
full of compassion for him. How deeply he loved his child, they felt.
But Father John read deeper below the surface.

The man was in a very queer state. Had anything happened? He knew Harris
well. At such a moment as this, if all were right, he would not be so
overcome.

The d