“No, Mrs. Gaston, I wouldn’t,” said the squire, who had now found his tongue,--“not for anything. What I’m telling you is truth, every word of it. Joe didn’t take that horse. He didn’t know any more about the taking of that horse than you did,--not a bit. But we’ve run down the man who did it, from one clew to another, and the deputy sheriff’s got him in a wagon out here in the road in front of the house now. Will you go out and see him? I guess maybe he can tell you something about Joe. He seems inclined to make a clean breast of it. I’d have brought him around here with me, but the sheriff’s got handcuffs on him, and it’s hard to get him out and in the wagon.” The next minute all four were on their way to the front gate. Callipers sat there in the wagon, under the eye of the deputy sheriff, with stoical indifference on his face. “Good evenin’, ladies!” he said briskly, as the party approached him. “Good evenin’, Mr. Gaston, sir. I’m sorry to ’ave put you to the trouble of comin’ out ’ere, sir, but circumstances over which, as I may say, I have no control has made it inconwenient for me to meet you in your ’ouse.” “Never mind that,” answered Mr. Gaston, sharply. “I’ll talk to you here.” “Thank you, sir! I’m glad to meet you an’ your hinteresting family, sir. I ’ad the pleasure o’ visitin’ your ’andsome place once before, sir. It was in lovely June, in the early mornin’, sir. I may say it was so early that I ’adn’t the ’eart to disturb your slumbers. But as the result o’ that ’ere visit, be’old me now!” The man held up his hands to show the steel bands firmly clasped about his wrists, and joined by a few short links. “Do you know anything about my son?” asked Mr. Gaston, abruptly. “Yes, sir. I will proceed with my tale. You see I was jest about to enter the stable door that mornin’ w’en that young feller appeared a-comin’ down the path, and as ’e appeared I disappeared be’ind the corner o’ the barn. He went in w’ere the ’oss was, an’ talked some sort o’ rubbish to ’im about ’is goin’ away an’ all that, you know. I couldn’t quite make out the drift of it. But ’e bid good-by to the ’oss, an’ went out a-wipin’ of ’is eyes, an’ struck into the road ’ere, an’ walked away in that direction.” The man was about to indicate the direction referred to; but finding his right hand securely clasped to the other, he abandoned the attempt, begging to be excused from pointing out the direction. “Seein’ that the ’oss was up an’ awake,” he continued, “an’ probably wouldn’t sleep no more that mornin’ anyhow, I took ’im with me into the country.” “But about Joe, the boy?” asked Mr. Gaston, eagerly. “Have you seen him since?” “Well, yes, sir, I ’ave. But now, look ’ere; you expects me to criminate myself, do you?” “It will probably go less hard with you,” said Squire Bidwell, “if you tell the whole story of your performances, and reveal what you know about this boy that you’ve put under such a grave suspicion.”