There had been a man brought up before Mr. Gray, charged with poultry-stealing; and he had been remanded for further examination. Meanwhile, he was placed in the strong-room, under lock-and-key,--Roger Manby, as usual, standing sentinel in the passage. Now Roger's red face betokened a lively appreciation of the sublunary and substantial attractions of beef and beer; and it seems probable that the servants' dinner, going on below-stairs, was too great a temptation for even that inflexible constable to resist. Howbeit, when the prisoner should have been produced before the waiting bench, he was nowhere to be found. He had vanished, as by magic, from the strong-room, without bolt being wrenched, or lock forced, or bar broken. The door was unfastened, and the prisoner gone. Great was the consternation, profound the mystification of all parties. Roger was severely reprimanded, and officers were sent off in various directions to recapture the offender. Mr. Gray seldom alluded to his public affairs when among his children; but that evening he broke through the rule. At dessert, with little Everett, as usual, beside him, he mentioned the mysterious incident of the morning to some friends who were dining with him, adding his own conjectures as to the cause of the strange disappearance. "It is certain he was _let out_. He could not have released himself. Circumstances are suspicious against Manby, too; and he will probably lose his office. Like Caesar's wife, a constable should be beyond suspicion, and he must be dismissed, if"---- "Oh, papa!"--and Everett's orange fell to the floor, and Everett's face was lifted to his father's, all-aglow with eager, painful feeling. "You don't like old Roger," said Mr. Gray, patting his cheek. "Well, it is likely you won't be troubled by him any more." "Oh, papa! oh, papa! Roger is an ugly, cross man. But he didn't,--he didn't"---- "Didn't what, my boy?" "Let the man out. He was in the kitchen all the time. I heard him laughing." "_You_ heard him? How?" "I--I--oh, papa!" The curly head sunk on the inquisitor's shoulder. "Go on, Everett. What do you mean? Tell me the whole truth. You are not afraid to do that?" "No, papa." He looked up, with steady eyes, but cheeks on which the color flickered most agitatedly. "I only wanted to look at the man; and the men had left a ladder against the wall by the little grated window; and I climbed up, and looked in. And, oh! he had such a miserable face, papa! And I couldn't help speaking to him." "Well, go on."