78 J. COLE.

Had there been any doubt in the detective’s
mind as to Joe’s guilt, he might have taken
more trouble, and searched for him, even
there; but from the first everybody but our-
selves had been sure Joe had escaped with the
burglars, so the cellar remained unsearched.

Mrs. Wilson, wishing to spare me the smell
of the apples, thought that cellar, being out-
side the house, a very suitable place for them,
and on opening the door had caught sight
of something in the distant corner, and sent
Mary to see what it was. Then arose those
fearful shrieks we had heard, and Mary had
rushed out of the cellar half mad with fright.

In less time than it has taken me to relate
this, Joe was laid on the rug before the
drawing-room fire, and I summoned courage to
look on the changed face.

“Could that be Joe —so white, so drawn,
so still?”

Dr. Loring was kneeling by the little form,
chafing and straightening the poor stiffened
arms, so bent with their cruel pinioning be-
hind the shoulders.

“Doctor,” I said, “why do you do any