low voice,
"I felt it since morning. She scared me so to begin with--she came
like a ghost--and then the dog finished me. I had one o' them once
and he nearly did me up--turned on me. Jim pulled him off," he
added, "but they give me a turn whenever I see 'em."

Lindsay stamped angrily.

"Will you prove what you say? Or shall we discuss it at the
station-house?"

The man raised his hand deprecatingly. "No, no;" he said hastily,
"no--that's what I don't want. That's why I--that's the reason I
don't--good Lord, don't you know you've given me a half a dozen
chances, if I'd had the nerve for the risk? Why, I c'd've butted
that gun out of your hand twice in the last ten minutes, you young
fool! How long d'ye suppose it would take a husky man to back you
into one closet and Missy into another and walk off with the stuff?
Hey?"

His eyes flashed, he threw back his head and breathed hard, a
cornered animal. Lindsay felt a tingle of excitement run down his
spine; for a moment there was danger in the air.

"I--I notice you didn't see your way to all this," he said
scornfully. But he blushed as he spoke, the man saw it, and Lindsay
knew he saw it; he winced and drew himself up in a boyish attempt to
save the situation.

"It's quite true--I'm not in the habit of catching house thieves,"
he said, drawling a little, "and I doubt if many of them are quite
such accomplished liars as you appear to be; but my stroke will
improve, I've no doubt, as we go on. Would you mind getting up and
'coming along with me' as they call it, I believe?"

The man made no answer, but raised his hands high above his head.

"If you'll look in that left vest pocket, there's a little leather
case there," he said, "and--and you'd better take the pin, too, I
guess. I'd be obliged if you'd say you found it somewhere; I never
should've put it on."

Somewhat clumsily Lindsay extricated the leather case, cursing his
awkwardness and the patience of the man.

A worn little photograph of a boy of eight or nine was in his hand;
across the bottom was scrawled in a childish hand, "Daddy, from your
son James."

He drew a long breath.

"That's Jimmy, all right," he said dully.

"If you'll just tear it up," said the man. "It's all I've got, and
nobody'd know but some friend that--that would be lookin' for the
likeness."

Lindsay threw the picture on the floor.

"I won't believe it--its too sickening!" he cried, "Jim Wardwell's a
gentleman! I--I--why I