“If you should break your oath you will not only go to the devil,” said Gibbs, solemnly, “but you will before that be taken by the police as a thief, and transported. Now, here are ten ten-pound notes, and here is the purse; in the morning early I shall know if you have done your work properly. Good-night.” “Good-night,” said Dibble, slinking away in a perspiration of fear and happiness, of doubt and hope; afraid of his own shadow, yet less afraid of Mrs. Dibble than he had been a few hours before. And this is how the purse came to be in Paul Somerton’s box; and this is how it was that Mrs. Dibble’s joy at seeing her five hundred pounds on the table before her was neutralised by Paul Somerton’s apprehension, and the insulting manner of the policeman towards both herself and her establishment. That night of Paul’s apprehension and remand was a terrible one for poor Dibble; for during the evening there arrived Paul’s father and sister Amy, and he was witness of their distress and trouble. He sat there and listened to Amy’s stories of his goodness, and he saw the silent sorrow of his fine manly father. He heard Mrs. Dibble speak of Paul as the best and kindest young man; and he felt that she was speaking nothing but the truth when she said she would rather have lost a thousand pounds than such a thing should have happened. And by-and-by Mr. Williamson, the barrister who had spoken up for Paul, came to the house in a cab, bringing Paul with him; which was such a blow to Dibble that he had not the heart to join in the general expressions of delight at the poor young fellow’s appearance. He sat there looking on, so pale and woe-begone, that Mrs. Dibble was struck with his appearance, and pitied him for taking the thing so much to heart. There was quite a scene between Amy and Paul, neither of them expecting to see each other. Amy rushed into his arms and sobbed on his shoulder, until Paul could hardly help crying himself; and Mrs. Dibble burst every hook-and-eye she had left. And Dibble could stand it no longer; so he slunk away into the back kitchen, with serious thoughts of putting his head into the water-butt, and keeping it there until he was dead. After five minutes’ consideration he changed his mind, and returned to the little parlour calmer and more contented, and sufficiently at ease to shake hands with the released prisoner, for whom Mr. Williamson had succeeded in giving bail. CHAPTER XXI. WHEREIN THOMAS DIBBLE “RUNS AWAY,” AND MEETS WITH A VERY REMARKABLE COMPANION. Mrs. Dibble insisted upon Miss Somerton and her father remaining in her house until the next day, when Paul was to reappear at Bow Street; and this increase in the Dibbleonian establishment made it necessary that Mr. Thomas Dibble should sleep on the sofa in the parlour.