Franz had related the story of his escape and his subsequent adventures, and finished by telling them how, by the merest accident, he had espied Mamma and Nance upon their return from the Warburton mansion; and how, at the risk of being detained by a too-zealous "cop," he had followed them, and so discovered their present abode. In exchange for this interesting story, Papa had briefly sketched the outline of the career run by himself and Mamma during the ten years of their son's absence, up to the time of their retreat from the scene of the Siebel tragedy. "We were doing a good business," sighed Papa, dolefully, "a very good business, in that house. But one night there were two or three there with--goods, and while the old woman and I were attending to business, the others got into a fuss--ah. We had no hand in it, the old woman and me, but there was a man killed, and it wasn't safe to stay there, Franzy." "Umph!" muttered the hopeful son; "who did the killin'?" Papa glanced uneasily at the old woman, and then replied: "We don't know, Franzy. The fight began when we were out of the room, and--we don't know." "That's a pity; wasn't there any reward?" "Yes, boy," said Mamma, eagerly; "a big reward. An' if we could tell who did the thing, we would be rich." "Somebody got arrested, of course?" "N--no, Franzy; nobody's been arrested--not yet." "Oh, they're a-lookin' fer somebody on suspicion? I say, old top, if nobody knows who struck the blow, seems to me ye're runnin' a little risk yerself. S'pose they should run yer to earth, eh?" "We've been careful, Franzy." "S'pose ye have--look here, old un, don't ye see yer chance?" "How, Franzy?" "How! If I was you, I'd clear my own skirts, and git that reward." "How? how?" "_I'd know who did the killin'._" And he leaned forward, took the bottle from Mamma's reluctant hand, and drained it to the last drop, while Papa and Mamma looked into each other's eyes, some new thought sending a flush of excitement to the face of each. "Ah, Franzy," murmured Mamma, casting upon him a look of pride, such as a tiger might bestow upon her cub, "ye'll be a blessin' to yer old mother yet!" Then she turns her head and listens, while Franz, casting a wistful look at the now empty bottle, rises to his feet the movement betraying the fact that he is physically intoxicated, although his head as yet seems so clear. Again footsteps approach, and Mamma hastens to the door, listens a moment, opens it cautiously, and peers out. "It's that gal," she mutters, setting the door wide open. "Come in, you Nance! Where have you been, making yourself a nuisance?" Then she falls back a pace, staring stupidly at the strangely-assorted couple who stand in the doorway.