ly
for a minute or so, but this was sufficient.

While he was in the act of climbing to his feet again, the chief dropped
upon him; there was a click, and Dandy Sam was at the end of his career
of crime, at least for a considerable time to come.

The chief started for the station-house with his man, whom he watched
closely despite the stunning blow he had received.

A few minutes later the other three officers came in with their
prisoners, who were caught in the very act of committing burglary.

The aid was absent so long that the chief felt uneasy, and started out in
quest of him, but at that moment he appeared with his man.

"He went peaceably enough for a while," explained the aid, "and then he
tried to bribe me to let him go. When he found that wouldn't work he
became ugly, and I had to use my club, but he ain't hurt much."

His face was bleeding, but Ben Mayberry, with a shock, recognized the
prisoner as G. R. Burkhill, the uncle of Dolly Willard.

The capture of the burglars made great excitement in Damietta, and the
part taken by Ben Mayberry once more placed his name in everyone's mouth.
It was he who discovered the criminals, and was the direct means of
securing the desperado, Dandy Sam, the leader of the notorious gang.

It was a great shock to all, except a few, to find that Burkhill, the
brother-in-law of Dolly Willard's father, was also one of the guilty
ones. But there were others (and among them Mr. Willard and Mr. Grandin)
who were not surprised in the least. The facts in this singular affair,
as they ultimately came to light, were as follows:

George R. Burkhill was the black sheep in a most estimable family, of
which Mrs. Willard, the mother of Dolly, was a member. She was the sister
of Burkhill, and the only one who clung to the bad brother, pronounced
incorrigible by everyone else, even when a small boy. She believed there
was some good in him, and, in the face of protests, she labored to bring
him to a sense of right. It was through her influence that he was saved
from condign punishment for more than one serious offense.

All four of the burglars were duly tried, found guilty, and sentenced to
the penitentiary for ten years. Rather curiously, both Dandy Sam and
Burkhill died during the third year of their imprisonment, and it is safe
to say the world was the gainer thereby.

Some few days after the capture of the burglars, came a glowing letter
from Dolly, who had gone home to New York,