r him. He lay there at my feet,
perfectly still, blinking up at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"All right, master," he said at last; "you've got me!" But with the
words he suddenly rolled himself towards the river, yet as he struggled
to his knees I pinned him down again.

"Oh, sir! you won't go for to give me up to them?" he panted. "I've
never done you no wrong. For God's sake don't send me back to it again,
sir."

"'Course not," cried the Imp, laying his hand upon my arm; "this is
only Uncle Dick. He won't hurt you, will you, Uncle Dick?"

"That depends," I answered, keeping tight hold of the tattered coat
collar. "Tell me, what brings you hanging round here?"

"Used to live up in these parts once, master."

"Who are you?"

"Convict 49, as broke jail over a week ago an' would ha' died but for
the little 'un there," and he nodded towards the Imp.

The convict, as I say, was a tall, thin fellow, with a cadaverous face
lined with suffering, while the hair at his temples was prematurely
white. And as I looked at him, it occurred to me that the suffering
which had set its mark so deeply upon him was not altogether the
grosser anguish of the body. Now for our criminal who can still feel
morally there is surely hope. I think so, anyhow! For a long moment
there was silence, while I stared into the haggard face below, and the
Imp looked from one to the other of us, utterly at a loss.

"I wonder if you ever heard tell of 'the bye Jarge,'" I said suddenly.

The convict started so violently that the jacket tore in my grasp.

"How--how did ye know--?" he gasped, and stared at me with dropped jaw.

"I think I know your father."

"My feyther," he muttered; "old Jasper--'e ain't dead, then?"

"Not yet," I answered; "come, get up and I'll tell you more while you
eat." Mechanically he obeyed, sitting with his glowing eyes fixed upon
my face the while I told him of old Jasper's lapse of memory and
present illness.

"Then 'e don't remember as I'm a thief an' convict 49, master?"

"No; he thinks and speaks of you always as a boy and a pattern son."

The man uttered a strange cry, and flinging himself upon his knees
buried his face in his hands.

"Come," I said, tapping him on the shoulder; "take off those things,"
and nodding to the Imp, he immediately began unwrapping Peter's
garments.

"What, master," cried the convict, starting up, "are you goin' to let
me see 'im afore you give me up?"

"Yes," I nodded; "o