He turned round and crept through the half-opened door. Down the stairs, with faltering steps, he then proceeded. He entered the front parlour, and then the back. He stripped them of as many valuables as he could conveniently carry, and then passed out of the house by the back door. All this had been done without his disturbing any one. Taking his way along the garden he passed out into the high road. Not a soul was to be seen. The night was clear and bright; and he walked on for a good half mile. Upon arriving at the end of a lane which ran out of the road he halted, looking the while to the right and left. He saw the back of a policeman going down the lane, and prudence dictated that he should go in the opposite direction. He walked on with rapid strides, and succeeded in reaching his lodgings at Bradford. Having let himself in with a latch-key, he made direct for his own little room without disturbing any one. Peace had several orders on hand for picture-framing, and for the next two or three days after the burglary near Dudley-hill he worked industriously at his trade――if we can bring ourselves to consider that to be his legitimate occupation. He could turn his hand to a number of things――picture-framing being one. This was supplemented by carpentry, wood-carving of every description, and, last not least, he was a violinist of no inconsiderable ability. Had he chosen to conduct himself in a discreet and proper manner he might have made, if not a shining light, certainly a respectable member of society. The booty he had obtained from the mill-owner he, of course, carefully concealed. He had already changed one of the notes in a quarter where there was not much fear of detection. While working at his trade, in a shed at the bottom of the yard of the house in which he had taken up his quarters, he was surprised at seeing a stranger enter the yard in company of Bessie Dalton. “A friend of mine,” said the latter, introducing her companion to Peace. “He is on a charitable expedition. A poor fellow was severely injured at Ludlow’s mill, and he has since died. His wife and two children are in the greatest distress. My friend is getting up a subscription for his widow.” “Very creditable of you, I’m sure,” remarked Peace, turning towards the stranger. “I am but a working man myself, as you see, but I will willingly give my mite.” “Thank you. It is hardly fair, perhaps, to ask you, as you are a comparative stranger to us. Still, at the same time, it has been well said that many can help one.” Peace put his hand in his pocket, and gave the man five shillings. “I can’t afford much, but what I can spare you are welcome to,” remarked the burglar. “Totally unprovided for――are they?” “Yes; I am sorry to say he was not in any benefit society, although he had put his name down in one, and would no doubt, have been elected at the next meeting.” “All these things are sad, very sad. What does the widow purpose doing?”