m, of course.--I just said it was Sunday to keep
from scaring the twins."

In a few minutes, they heard footsteps around the house and knew the
officers had arrived. Mr. Allan let them into the house, four of them,
and led them out to the hall. There could be no doubt whatever that
the burglar was in the dungeon. He had been busy with his knife, and
the lock was nearly removed. If the officers had been two minutes
later, the dungeon would have been empty. The girls were sent
up-stairs at once, with the Allan boy as guard,--as guard, without
regard for the fact that he was probably more frightened than any one
of them.

The chief officer rapped briskly on the dungeon door. Then he clicked
his revolver.

"There are enough of us to overpower three of you," he said curtly.
"And we have men outside the house, too. If you make any disturbance,
we shall all fire the instant the door is opened. If you put your
firearms on the floor, and hold both hands over your head, you'll be
well treated. If your hands are not up, we fire on sight. Get your
revolvers ready, boys."

Then the officer opened the door. Evidently the burglar was wise
enough to appreciate the futility of fighting against odds. Perhaps he
did not wish to add the charge of manslaughter to that of robbery.
Certainly, he did not feel himself called to sudden death. At any
rate, his hands were above his head, and in less than a second he was
securely manacled.

The chief officer had been eying him closely. "Say!" he exclaimed.
"Aren't you Limber-Limb Grant?" The burglar grinned, but did not
answer. "By jove!" shouted the officer. "It is! Call the girls down
here," he ordered, and when they appeared, gazing at the burglar with
mingled admiration, pity and fear, he congratulated them with
considerable excitement.

"It's Limber-Limb Grant," he explained. "There's a reward of five
hundred dollars for him. You'll get the money, as sure as you're
born." Then he turned again to the burglar. "Say, Grant, what's a
fellow like you doing on such a fifth-rate job as this? A Methodist
parsonage is not just in your line, is it?"

Limber-Limb laughed sheepishly. "Well," he explained good-naturedly,
"Chicago got too hot for me. I had to get out in a hurry, and I
couldn't get my hands on any money. I had a fine lot of jewels, but I
was so pushed I couldn't use them. I came here and loafed around town
for a while, because folks said Mount Mark was so