she said.

"Yer don't?" cried Pickles. "But I were there at the time. But for me
she would ha' been locked up long ago. But I tuk pity on her--'avin' my
own suspicions. I hid her and disguised her. Wot do yer think I come
'ere for so often but jest to comfort the poor thing an' bring her news
o' Giles? Then all of a suddn't my suspicions seemed confirmed. I
guessed wot I see is workin' in your mind--that some one else done it
an' putt the blame on 'er. Oh, I'm a born detective. I putt my wits in
soak, an' soon I spotted the guilty party. Bless yer, Connie! ye're
right--Sue be honest--honest as the day--noble, too--more nobler nor
most folk. Pore Sue! Pore, plain Cinderella! Oh, my word! it's beauteous
inside she be--an' you're beauteous outside. Outside beauty is
captiwatin', but the hinner wears best."

"Go on," said Connie; "tell me wot else you 'ave in yer mind."

"It's this: yer may own up to it, an' there's no use beatin' about the
bush. The guilty party wot stole the locket an' transferred it by
sleight-of-'and to poor Sue is no less a person than yer own father,
Connie Harris."

Connie fell back, deadly pale.

"No--no!" she said. "No--no! I am sartin sure 'tain't that way."

"Yus, but it be that way--I tell yer it be. You ax 'im yerself; there's
no time for muddlin' and a-hidin' o' the truth. You ax the man hisself."

"Father!" said Connie. "Father!"

Harris, wrangling with another workman, was now seen approaching. When
he perceived his daughter and Pickles, his first impulse was to dart
away down a side-street; but Pickles, that most astute young detective,
was too sharp for him.

"No," he said, rushing at the man and laying his hand on his shoulder.
"Giles is bad, an' we can't find Sue no'ow, and yer must tell the
truth."

Harris did not know why his heart thumped so heavily, and why a sort of
wild terror came over him; but when Connie also joined Pickles, and
raising her eyes to the rough man's face, said, "Be it true or be it
lies, you are my own father and I'll niver turn agin yer," her words had
a most startling effect.

Harris trembled from head to foot.

"S'y that agin, wench," he muttered.

"You're mine--I'll not turn agin yer," said Connie.

"Then why--wot 'ave I done to deserve a child like this? There, Pickles!
you know--and you ha' told Connie--it's all the truth. There come a day
w'en I wanted money, an' I were met by sore temptation. I tuk the dimant
locket w'en the pawnbroker '