ongue and let some think you are the culprit. Hal, Jerrie gave you the
diamonds. I saw her do it in the lane as I came up to you. I did not
think of it at the time, but afterward it came to me that you took
something from her and slipped it into your pocket, and that you both
looked scared when you saw me. Jerrie was abstracted and queer all the
way to the house, and had a bruise on her head, and she keeps talking of
the Tramp House and Peterkin, who, she says, dealt the blow. I went to
the Tramp House, and found the old table on the floor, with three of the
legs on it; the fourth I couldn't find. I thought at first that the old
wretch had quarreled with her about you on account of the suit, and she
had squared up to him, and he had struck her; but now I believe _he_ had
the diamonds, and she got them from him in some way, and he struck her
with the missing table-leg. If you say so, I'll have him arrested.'

Tom had told his story rapidly, while Harold listened breathlessly,
until he suggested the arrest of Peterkin, when he exclaimed:

'No, no, Tom. No; don't you see that would mix Jerrie's name up with the
diamonds, and that must not be. She must not be mentioned in connection
with them until she speaks for herself; and, besides, I do not believe
it was Peterkin who took them. It might have been your Uncle Arthur.'

'Uncle Arthur?' Tom said, indignantly. 'Why, he gave them to mother.'

'I know he did,' Harold continued; 'but in a crazy fit he might have
taken them away and secreted them and then forgotten it, and Jerrie
might have known it, and not been able to find them till now. Many
things go to prove that;' and very briefly Harold repeated some
incidents connected with Jerrie's illness when she was a child.

'That looks like it, certainly,' Tom said; 'but I am awfully loth to
give up arresting the brute, and believe I shall do it yet for assault
and battery. He certainly struck her. You will see for yourself the lump
on her head.'

So saying Tom arose to go away, but before he went made a remark quite
characteristic of him and his feeling for Harold, to whom he said, with
a laugh:

'Don't for thunder's sake, think us a kind of a Damon and Pythias twins,
because I've joined hands with you against Peterkin and for Jerrie.
Herod and Pilate, you know, became friends, but I guess at heart they
were Pilate and Herod still.'

'No danger of my presuming at all upon your friendship for myself,
though I thank you fo