,
before he settled himself in an easy-chair, leaving Tom standing by the
table.

"Nice fellow you are, sir," he said severely; "I left you in charge for
a few days, and you get up an affair like this ready for me when I come
back."

"Uncle!" cried Tom indignantly.

Uncle Richard's countenance relaxed.

"Sit down, Tom," he said, "and let's talk like business men. That's
right. You did well in keeping the matter perfectly private; but now
let's have everything open and clear as the day. This was nothing more
nor less than a burglary, and you surprised the burglar or burglars.
Which was it, singular or plural?"

"I only saw--I mean felt--one, uncle," said Tom uneasily; "but there
must have been two."

"Why?"

"Because there must have been some one outside to lift the ladder up
again."

"After you had laid it down. Of course."

"And I heard a whispering too."

"Must have been at least two then, Tom. Well, that's something. Now
then for the next. You had a regular struggle with the burglar--a big
strong fellow of course, or he would not have got the better of you."

"Oh no," said Tom quickly; "not very big or strong. I held my own with
him pretty well, but he had the best of it."

"You could not see his face?"

"No, uncle."

"But you formed an idea of who it was?" Tom was silent.

"Some one who must have known the place, eh?"

"Yes, uncle, I think he must have known the place."

"Such a fellow as our amiable young poaching friend, Pete Warboys, eh?"

"David says he is sure that it was Pete."

"Why does he say that?"

"Because Pete would know where the ladder was kept, and get it into the
yard."

"To be sure; no one more likely," said Uncle Richard, watching his
nephew keenly, and then opening and shutting two or three of the drawers
as if waiting for Tom to go on speaking.

But Tom remained silent.

"But you don't think it was Pete Warboys, eh?"

Tom still remained silent, and his uncle drew out the drawer in which
the deeds had been placed.

"Come, my boy, I must cross-examine you," continued Uncle Richard. "Out
with it. There is always to be perfect confidence between us two."

"Yes, uncle," cried Tom passionately, "but don't make me speak. It is
only a suspicion, and I may be wrong."

"I'll tell you if you are, Tom, my boy. You heard what I said--there
must be perfect confidence between us two. When that ceases, which I
think will never be, you and I will part."

"But