When the man had left, Miss Stivergill ordered the servants to leave the kitchen. Little Pax, who had discreetly kept out of range of the burglar's eye, went with them, a good deal depressed in spirit, for his mission had failed. The burglary had not indeed, been accomplished, but--"father" was "took." When Miss Stivergill was left alone with the burglar she gazed at him for some time in silence. "Man," she said at length, "you are little Bones's father." "If you means Tottie, ma'am, I is," replied Bones, with a look and tone which were not amiable. "I have a strong feeling of regard for your child, though not a scrap of pity for yourself," said Miss Stivergill, with a frown. Mr Bones muttered something to the effect that he returned the compliment with interest. "For Tottie's sake I should be sorry to see you transported," continued the lady, "therefore I mean to let you off. Moreover, bad as you are, I believe you are not so bad as many people would think you. Therefore I'm going to trust you." Bones looked inquiringly and with some suspicion at his captor. He evidently thought there was a touch of insanity about her. This was confirmed when Miss Stivergill, seizing a carving-knife from the dresser, advanced with masculine strides towards him. He made a desperate effort to burst his bonds, but they were too scientifically arranged for that. "Don't fear," said the lady, severing the cord that bound the burglar's wrists, and putting the knife in his hands. "Now," she added, "you know how to cut yourself free, no doubt." "Well, you _are_ a trump!" exclaimed Bones, rapidly touching his bonds at salient points with the keen edge. In a few seconds he was free. "Now, go away," said Miss Stivergill, "and don't let me see you here again." Bones looked with admiration at his deliverer, but could only find words to repeat that she _was_ a trump, and vanished through the back-door, just as a band of men, with pitchforks, rakes, spades, and lanterns, came clamouring in at the front garden gate from the neighbouring farm. "What is it?" exclaimed the farmer. "Only a burglar," answered Miss Stivergill. "Where is he?" chorussed everybody. "That's best known to himself," replied the lady, who, in order to give the fugitive time, went into a minute and slow account of the whole affair--excepting, of course, her connivance at the escape--to the great edification of her audience, among whom the one who seemed to derive the chief enjoyment was a black boy. He endeavoured to screen himself behind the labourers, and was obviously unable to restrain his glee. "But what's come of 'im, ma'am?" asked the farmer impatiently. "Escaped!" answered Miss Stivergill. "Escaped!" echoed everybody, looking furtively round, as though they supposed he had only escaped under the dresser or into the keyhole.