thief, miss—wounded, miss! I shot him, miss, and Brittles held the light."
"In a lantern, miss," cried Brittles, applying one hand to the side of his mouth, so that his voice might travel the better.
The two women-servants ran up stairs to carry the intelligence that Mr. Giles had captured a robber; and the tinker busied himself in endeavouring to restore Oliver, lest he should die before he could be hung. In the midst of all this noise and commotion there was heard a sweet female voice which quelled it in an instant.
"Giles!" whispered the voice from the stairhead.
"I'm here, miss," replied Mr. Giles. "Don't be frightened, miss; I ain't much injured. He didn't make a very desperate resistance, miss; I was soon too many for him."
"Hush!" replied the young lady; "you frighten my aunt as much as the thieves did. Is the poor creature much hurt?"
"Wounded desperate, miss," replied Giles, with indescribable complacency.
