Having inspected Mr Stafford’s study, and made nothing of the work, M^cSweeny had no difficulty in working himself up into a fit of rage against the page. “Just ring the bell, plase, for that boy in the tight jacket and buttons,” he said to Mr Stafford when they had returned to the sitting-room. The bell was rung, and the page appeared, when M^cSweeny grandly requested to be left alone with the quaking boy. Mr Stafford accordingly withdrew, when M^cSweeny elaborately took from his pocket first a note-book and pencil, and then a pair of handcuffs, which he clanked noisily down on the table before the boy’s eyes. “Now, you boy—your name?” he sternly began. “William Lister, sir,” said the page, visibly alarmed. “Well, William, I’m the great detective M^cSweeny, and I’ve come here on a great case. You know what I can do to you, I suppose?” “Ye—ye—yes, sir,” stammered the page, nearly crying, and shaking on his legs. “Now look me in the face, sur,” and M^cSweeny grabbed the boy suddenly by the arm, and forced him down on his knees—no very difficult task—while he chained him with his fierce eyes. “Now, sur! you’ve been robbing your master!” “No—no—no—sir!” cried the boy, clasping his hands in an agony of terror, and beginning to howl. “You tuck them; I can see it in your eye,” sternly returned M^cSweeny. “Now, where have ye hid them? Out with it, or off to jail ye go!” More abject howling and protesting, and then the boy blubbered out— “It was for my mother I took them.” “Your mother, ye villin. She’s fond o’ them things, I s’pose?” derisively returned M^cSweeny. “Ye—ye—yes, sir.” “And she’s got them now, eh!” “Yes—oo! hoo! hoo!” “And where does she live?” “Bu—bu—bu—ccleuch Street, sir.” “Then we’ll go there now,” sternly observed M^cSweeny, highly elated with the success of his bold measures; “and luck here now, if ye try to escape I’ll shoot you—shoot you! with a double-barrelled poker.” The terror-stricken culprit rose and got his cap; and they were moving out of the lobby when Mr Stafford appeared. “It’s all right, sur,” whispered M^cSweeny, with a significant wink; “you’ll have them here for identification in an hour.” “But how was it done?” cried the gentleman in amazement. “Done? What trick is there that’s too difficult or dirty for an idle vagabone of a boy?” responded M^cSweeny with a wise look. “I knew what a scamp he was the minit I smelt tobacco on him,” and M^cSweeny got out his own pipe ready for lighting when he should be outside the door.