Miss Gastonguay was conscious of a feeble passing surprise at his superstition, but she was not able to discuss it, and pointing to his foot asked, "Can you walk on it?" "No, ma'am, I guess you'll have to provide the means of locomotion." "Come out to the stable, then." "First let me return some of your property," and he gallantly extended her handsome gold watch and chain. She slapped her side, "I had it here just now." "Yes, ma'am, I wanted you to see how easy I could get it from you." "Have you any more of my property?" she asked, harshly. "Not a stiver. We tumbled things back pretty quick, when we found Gentleman George's picture by your bed. He'd get after us if we meddled with you. You're not his sister, are you?" "Come with me to the stable," she responded. "I will lend you a horse. Ride him to any of the near stations. Dismount when you get there, and turn him loose. Have you money enough for a ticket?" "Yes, ma'am." His spirits were rising, now that there was a sure prospect of his escape, and he even grinned facetiously at Prosperity and Tribulation, who shrank in dismay from him, and hid the musket between them. Miss Gastonguay went swiftly to the stable, followed closely by the limping burglar, and at a little distance by her two servants. A few minutes later her departing prisoner threw her a civil farewell as he clambered on the back of the tall black horse. "I'm obliged for your interest, ma'am. I've talked pretty freely to you. If you ever see Gentleman George again, I wish you'd speak a good word for me. I'd like to join in some of his big propositions." She fell back in disgust, and as the gray morning swallowed his figure, she passionately muttered, "Moral obliquity,--just like the other,--youthful, enthusiastic,--a face set to do evil. God pity him." With hanging head she went slowly to the house until startled into a peevish exclamation by the sudden appearance of her niece. "Chelda, what are you doing here?" "I was going to see if our prisoner is safe," replied the young lady, smoothly. "I have just been telephoning to the police station." "And pray, who told you to do that? This is my house. Go telephone back that the policemen are not to come until I send for them." "Very well, aunt," she replied, submissively, "but can you stop them?" "You are a meddlesome girl," said Miss Gastonguay, and she gave relief to her overwrought feelings by stamping her foot at her. Chelda said nothing, but her expression was not a pleasant one as she gazed after the retreating figure. "You let that burglar go," she murmured, revengefully, "why did you do it? It is really quite puzzling,--and who is to be pitied? One should really look into so interesting a matter. There is such a lack of pity in the world." CHAPTER XXII. CRIMINAL RECORDS.