"Indeed, but the judge ain't stirring yet!" exclaimed the Irish girl who came to answer our summons at the door.
"Then wake him at once," said Parsons. "Tell him there has been a most atrocious robbery and assault committed."
"Mercy on us!" said the girl, lifting up her hands in horror. "And who was it, Mr. Parsons?"
"Never mind who it was. Go at once."
"I will that! Robbery and assault. Mercy on us!"
And leaving us standing in the hall, the hired girl sped up the front stairway.
"The judge will be down as soon as he can," she reported on her return.
We waited as patiently as we could. While doing so I revolved what had occurred over in my mind, and came to the conclusion that the crime would be a difficult one to trace. John Stumpy had probably made good use of his time, knowing that even if I had lost my life in the fire my sister would still recognize him as the thief.
Suddenly I thought of the written confession that must yet remain in my pocket, and I was on the point of assuring myself that it was still safe when a heavy foot-step sounded overhead, and Judge Penfold came down.
The judge was a tall, slender men of fifty, with hollow cheeks, a pointed nose, and a sharp chin. His voice was of a peculiarly high and rasping tone, and his manner far from agreeable.