There was a moment of dead silence, broken only by a tiny squeak from the stairs where Mrs. Aymer crouched invisible. All eyes were fixed on Pippin, and he held them all, glancing from one to the other. "Up to three years ago," he said slowly, "I was all that. I'm straight now. I'm an honest man. Mr. Aymer, sir, I'd ought to have told you before; I ask your pardon! But I'm an honest man, and I come here to-night to protect your property." "You _ought_ to have told me, Lippitt!" Mr. Aymer spoke in a troubled voice. "I ought to have known if there was anything like this behind you." A little blue figure came forward, a little warm hand was slipped into Pippin's. "I knew!" said Mary-in-the-kitchen. "He told me!" "God bless you!" Pippin grasped the little hand and squeezed it till Mary had to bite her lips to keep back a scream. But now the younger Bashford, regaining the senses which had been knocked out of him, struggled up on his elbow and pointed a shaking finger at Pippin. "Yes, he's straight!" he cried in a voice broken with passion. "Yes, he's an honest man all right, all right! Get his wheel, his innercent little scissor-grinder's wheel! Bring it in from the shed where he's kep' it handy. Nipper Crewe's wheel, well known to every burglar in the state, with the finest kit of breakin' tools made by man hid away in it! Fetch the wheel, somebody! The ---- skunk has broke my leg or I'd go." What is this? From dead white Pippin has gone vivid scarlet from brow to neck. He steps forward hastily. "I'll bring the wheel!" he says. "No you don't!" the giant policeman fills the doorway, seeming to expand till it is a close fit on either side. "No, nor you either!" as the elder Bashford made a motion. "You three stay where you be! Yes, sir, if you'll be so kind!" This to John Aymer, who has silently indicated his readiness to go. No one speaks while the householder slips out. Pippin, still holding the little hand, has dropped his brave crest and stands with hanging head and downcast looks. What can it mean? Mary casts little anxious glances at him. Mrs. Aymer weeps audibly on the stairs; the Bashfords, father and son, seem to swell with anticipatory triumph; Dennis Cassidy, thoroughly puzzled, glowers at the three from under his shaggy eyebrows. As the light rattle of the wheel was heard, Pippin started, and darted a strange look at Mary. "I ask your pardon, Miss Mary!" he muttered. "I hadn't ought--" Mr. Aymer entered with the wheel, and Nosey Bashford struggled to his knees, still pointing his shaking finger.