Mr. Gray seldom alluded to his public affairs when among his children; but that evening he broke through the rule. At dessert, with little Everett, as usual, beside him, he mentioned the mysterious incident of the morning to some friends who were dining with him, adding his own conjectures as to the cause of the strange disappearance.
"It is certain he was let out. He could not have released himself. Circumstances are suspicious against Manby, too; and he will probably lose his office. Like Cæsar's wife, a constable should be beyond suspicion, and he must be dismissed, if"——
"Oh, papa!"—and Everett's orange fell to the floor, and Everett's face was lifted to his father's, all-aglow with eager, painful feeling.
"You don't like old Roger," said Mr. Gray, patting his cheek. "Well, it is likely you won't be troubled by him any more."
"Oh, papa! oh, papa! Roger is an ugly, cross man. But he didn't,—he didn't"——
"Didn't what, my boy?"
"Let the man out. He was in the kitchen all the time. I heard him laughing."
"You heard him? How?"
"I—I—oh, papa!"
The curly head sunk on the inquisitor's shoulder.