“Tie his wrists, Weston. Hold your hands out, my man, we’re going to jolly well tie you up, and then take you to the house. There are some questions we want to ask you, and we can talk more comfortably inside.” The captive redoubled his entreaties, for, like the others, he had heard the sound of a door opening, and of approaching footsteps. “Lemme go: I’m bleedin’ to death,” he begged. “An’ I’ll bring back the dog in the mornin’. It wasn’t me took him, but I’ll bring him back, misther. I haven’t done nothin’, an’ you’ve had your plug at me.” “Are his hands tied, Weston?” “Yes,” answered Edward. “Who’s there?” called out the canon nervously. “What’s all this? Edward――Palmer――what are you doing here, and who is this man?” “They’re afther shootin’ me, your riverence, that’s what they’ve done,” George began to whimper. “Just all along a’ me havin’ a dhrop a’ drink in me, an’ comin’ over the wall. This young fella, he whips out a revolver, an’ he has me desthroyed. I’ve a boot full a’ blood already. But I don’t want to make trouble. Just tell them to let me go quiet an’ you’ll hear no more from _me_.” “It’s the man who stole Pouncer,” said Palmer. “His name is George. He stole Pouncer to get him out of the way, so that he might break into the house. He came over the wall from the wood and I followed him; but as soon as he saw the light he thought better of it, and tried to get away.” “Come into the house,” said the canon. “If you have been shot the wound will have to be seen to.” “No, yer riverence. I’ll do that myself. Just you let me go quiet.” “Come on,” said the canon. “I suppose you can walk?” George muttered something, but he began to limp across the yard, Palmer, still keeping him covered, following in the rear. In this order they entered the house, where Aunt Caroline stood waiting for them in some alarm. “You’d better get warm water and bandages, Caroline,” her father said. “Our friend here has been winged, I’m afraid.” In the kitchen the patient was examined. There was only a flesh wound, and that not a very serious one, the bullet having passed clean through his leg, fortunately without cutting an artery. Palmer himself bathed it and tied it up with great neatness. “And now,” said the canon, “you’d better give an account of yourself. It was you who stole the dog, was it?” “You’ll not give me in charge, yer riverence? The dog’s safe, an’ I’ve bin punished enough. You’ll get him back in the mornin’.” “And with the dog out of the way you were going to rob the house?” “No, yer riverence,” cried George indignantly. “I never thought of it. I’ll own up about the dog. But I’m tellin’ you the God’s truth, that was all we――――” “What brought you back then?” “We come back because of the dhrink, and thinkin’ there might be somethin’ to pick up about the yard. It was the dhrink done it. If you’ll not set the police on me, I’ll bring back the dog an’ never throuble you again.”