"Ay, sir, you've the little pet! That's the kind o' argiment."
"It is a rather nice weapon—six-shooter—Colt's."
Presently, with much clatter, the gardener's son brought a rope, and then, under Mr. Franklin's directions, they bound the man in the chair hand and foot.
A moment after they heard Mr. Denny's crutch stalking down the stairs, and Alma's voice assuring him that there was indeed no danger—no danger at all.
"What does this mean, Mr. Franklin?" said the old gentleman as he came to the door.
"Burglary, sir. That is all. You need fear nothing. We have secured the man."
Mr. Denny entered the room leaning on Alma's arm. He saw the open safe and the papers strewed upon the floor, and he lifted his hand and shook his head in alarm and trouble.
"A robbery! Would they ruin me utterly? Where is the villain?"
"There, sir."
Alma turned toward the man in the chair, and clung to her father in terror. The old man lifted his crutch as if to strike.