that in my mind
which 'ull make it come uncommon light ter me. I'll go to prison 'stead
o' he."

CHAPTER XXX.

WHAT WAS HARRIS TO HER?

Pickles went up to the very small room where he slept, threw himself on
his bed, and fell a-wondering. For the first time in his life he was
completely at sea. What _did_ Cinderella mean? For a whole month now she
had been his special charge. He had rescued her; he had kept her in the
safe shelter of his mother's house; he had been, he considered, very
kind indeed to Cinderella. What a fate she would have had but for him!
Sent to prison for a crime of which she was absolutely innocent, her
whole future disgraced, blighted, ruined! All the time while he had been
hunting up Harris, and bringing his ingenious little mind to bear down
the full weight of his crime upon the guilty man, he had thought that no
amount of gratitude on Cinderella's part--nay, even a whole lifetime of
devotion--could scarcely repay all she owed him.

But now he kicked his legs impatiently and said to himself that it was
enough to provoke the best-natured boy in the universe. After all his
trouble, all his hard thoughts and anxious reflections, here was this
tiresome Cinderella refusing to be set free. He had, as he expressed it,
nailed his man; he had put the noose round him, and all he had to do was
to tighten it, and Sue would be free and Harris sent to prison. But
without Sue's aid he could not do this, and Sue most emphatically
to-night had refused his aid. She would go to prison herself, but she
would not betray Harris. What did the girl mean? What was this cowardly
Harris to her that she should risk so much and suffer so sorely for his
sake? How she had dreaded prison! How very, very grateful she had been
to him for saving her! But now she was willing to go there, willing to
bear the unmerited punishment, the lifelong disgrace. Why? Pickles,
think hard as he would, could get no answer to solve this difficulty.
True, she had said she had something in her mind which would lighten the
prison fare and the prison life. What was it? Pickles could stand it no
longer; he must go and consult his mother. He ran downstairs. Mrs. Price
had not yet gone to bed. Pickles sat down beside her by the fire, and
laid his curly red head in her lap.

"Mother," he said, "this 'ere detective's foiled at last."

"What's up now, Jamie, boy?" asked the mother.

Pickles told her. He described how he had all but brought t