At these words the dog ceased further hostilities. Peace by a supreme effort rose to his feet, but he was still in the grasp of his enemy, who also rose.
The noise and barking of the dog aroused another inmate of the house; this was the servant girl, who hurried on her things and hastened to the scene of action with a lighted candle in her hand.
“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Gatliffe, whatever is the matter?” she inquired.
Peace’s heart beat audibly. He was in the hands of Tom Gatliffe.
By the light of the candle which the girl carried he beheld the well-known features of his rival.
“Heaven be merciful!” exclaimed the latter, who despite his disguise at once recognised Peace. “Can it be possible?”
He regarded the burglar with a look of bewilderment. Peace was abashed; panting and puffing like a grampus, he drew back and supported himself against the edge of the cheffonier.
The two—the honest man and the rogue—regarded each other in silence for a brief space of time.
“I had never counted on this—I am appalled,” exclaimed Gatliffe. “A robber, a thief, a burglar! It surpasses all belief!”
A stream of blood trickled down the face of our hero from the blow he had received at the commencement of the conflict, but he was heedless of this. The exposure, the terrible discovery made by young Gatliffe, afflicted him more than aught else.