unted on his gouty
legs, candles had been lighted, and the face of the housebreaker was for
the first time visible. Two servants held the man; the others, with
Desmond and Dickon, looked on in amazement.

"Job Grinsell, on my soul and body!" cried the squire. "You villain! You
ungrateful knave! Is this how you repay me? I might have hanged you, you
scoundrel, when you poached my game; a word from me and Sir Philip would
have seen you whipped before he let his inn to you; but I was too kind; I
am a fool; and you--by, gad, you shall hang this time."

The squire's face was purple with anger, and he shook his stick as though
then and there he would have wrought chastisement on the offender.
Grinsell's flabby face, however, expressed amusement rather than fear.

"Bless my soul!" cried the squire, suddenly turning to his men, "I'd
forgotten the other villain. Off with you; search for him; bring him
here."

Desmond had already set off to look for Grinsell's accomplice. Taper in
hand he went quickly from room to room; joined by the squire's servants,
he searched every nook and cranny of the house, examining doors and
windows, opening cupboards, poking at curtains--all in vain. At last, at
the end of a dark corridor, he came upon an open window some ten feet
above the ground. It was so narrow that a man of ordinary size must have
had some difficulty in squeezing his shoulders through; but Desmond was
forced to the conclusion that the housebreaker had sprung out here, and
by this time had made good his escape. Disappointed at his failure, he
returned with the servants to the library.

"We can't find him, Sir Willoughby," said Desmond, as he opened the door.

To his surprise, Grinsell and Dickon were gone; no one but the squire was
in the room, and he was sitting in a big chair, limp and listless, his
eyes fixed upon the floor.

"We can't find him," repeated Desmond.

The squire looked up.

"What did you say?" he asked, as though the events of the past half-hour
were a blank. "Oh, 'tis you, Desmond, yes; what can I do for you?"

Desmond was embarrassed.

"I--we have--we have looked for the other villain, Sir Willoughby," he
stammered. "We can't find him."

"Ah! 'Twas you gave the alarm. Good boy; zeal, excellent; but a little
mistake; yes, Grinsell explained; a mistake, Desmond."

The squire spoke hurriedly, disconnectedly, with an embarrassment even
greater than Desmond's.

"But, sir," the boy began, "I saw--"