"They found your Uncle Job guarding Burke and trying to bring the other man to life," she replied. "Did he succeed?" I asked, remembering poor Blott, and with what courage he had stood up at the last. "No; but the doctor soon brought him to." "How is he now?" "He is well and at work about the stables. Papa doesn’t think he is bad, only weak, and that Burke misled him." "Burke!" I exclaimed, a tremor creeping over me at the thought of that cruel villain and his soft, purring way. "What did they do with him?" "They put him in prison, but when Blott refused to appear against him he was released." "Why wouldn’t Blott appear?" I asked, surprised. "Every one urged him to, but he said he was as bad as Burke." "They ought not to have let Burke go!" I cried, thinking of Uncle Job. "That is what papa said, but the jail was full and they would have had to board him, and the town being poor, they didn’t want to do that, no one appearing against him." "It’s too bad," I answered, all Burke’s cunning and wickedness rising before me. "Didn’t Uncle Job try to detain him?" "No; and he seemed much relieved when Burke was released and left the town, at which we all wondered." "It was like him not to think of himself," I answered, remembering the Singletons, and why Uncle Job should wish Burke anywhere but in Appletop. "Has he anything to fear from Burke any more than others?" Constance asked, as if my alarm had in some way communicated itself to her. "Oh, hasn’t he told you?" I asked, stopping short; for if uncle had said nothing about the conspiracy to kill him, ought I to tell? "No." At this I wondered, not being able to see any reason why he should not have told Mr. Seymour. Anyway, I determined to tell Constance, and this I did, but without referring to the Singletons or what happened on the boat. Constance thought it strange, and straightway began to wonder who there could be in Appletop that wished Uncle Job harm, but fruitlessly. Indeed, after a while we concluded it was but a ruse of Burke’s to give him an excuse for keeping more than his share of the money. This, we made up our minds, was what Uncle Job thought, and so when he came to visit me I ventured to say as much, but without his vouchsafing any reply. "Did Uncle Job get hurt that night?" I asked, continuing my talk with Constance, the better to keep her by my side. "No; but when he saw you on his return he was nearly crazed, blaming himself for all you suffered. Nor did he leave the house until the doctor pronounced you out of danger. He was like one out of his mind, and would not go to his room, but slept on a cot before your door. Had you died it would have killed him, the doctor said, so much was he wrought up over your misfortunes."