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“Stop!” cried Sampson, laying his hand on one shoulder, while Mr. Swiveller pounced upon the other. “Not so fast, sir. You’re in a hurry?”

“Yes, I am,” said Kit, looking from one to the other in great surprise.

“I–I–can hardly believe it,” panted Sampson, “but something of value is missing from the office. I hope you don’t know what.”

“Know what! good heaven, Mr. Brass!” cried Kit, trembling from head to foot; “you don’t suppose—-“

“No, no,” rejoined Brass, quickly, “I don’t suppose anything. You will come back quietly, I hope?”

“Of course I will,” returned Kit. “Why not?”

Kit did turn from white to red, and from red to white again, when they secured him, each by an arm, and for a moment he seemed disposed to resist. But, quickly recollecting himself, and remembering that if he made any struggle, he would perhaps be dragged by the collar through the public streets, he suffered them to lead him off.

“Now, you know,” said Brass, when they had entered the office, and locked the door, “if this is a case of innocence, Christopher, the fullest disclosure is the best satisfaction for everybody. Therefore, if you’ll consent to an examination, it will be a comfortable and pleasant thing for all parties.”

” SEARCH ME ” said Kit, proudly, holding up his arms. “But mind, sir,–I know you’ll be sorry for this to the last day of your life.”

“It is certainly a very painful occurrence,” said Brass, with a sigh, but commencing the search with vigour. All at once an exclamation from Dick Swiveller and Miss Brass, Sampson’s sister, who was also present, cut the lawyer short He turned his head, and saw Dick, who had been holding Kit’s hat, standing with the missing bank-note in his hand.

“In the hat?” cried Brass, in a sort of shriek, ” Under the handkerchief, and tucked beneath the lining,” said Mr. Swiveller, aghast, at the discovery. Mr. Brass looked at him, at his sister, at the walls, at the ceiling, at the floor, everywhere but at Kit, who stood quite stupefied and motionless.

Like one entranced, he stood, eyes wide opened, and fixed upon the ground, until the constable came, and he found himself being driven away in a coach, to the jail, where he was lodged for the night–still dazed by the terrible change in his affairs.

It was a long night, but Kit slept, and dreamed too–always of being at liberty. At last the morning dawned, and the turnkey who came to unlock his cell, and show him where to wash, told him that there was a regular time for visiting every day, and that if any of his friends came to see him, he would be fetched down to the grate, and that he was lodged apart from the mass of prisoners, because he was not supposed to be utterly depraved and irreclaimable. Kit was thankful for this indulgence, and sat reading the Church Catechism, until the man entered again.

“Now then,” he said. “Come on!”

“Where to, sir?” asked Kit.

The man contented himself by briefly replying “Wisitors,” and led Kit down behind a grating, outside which, and beyond a railing, Kit saw with a palpitating heart, his mother with the baby in her arms; and poor little Jacob, who, when he saw his brother, and thrusting his arms between the rails to hug him, found that he came no nearer, began to cry most piteously, whereupon Kit’s mother burst out sobbing and weeping afresh. Poor Kit could not help joining them, and not a word was spoken for some time.

“Oh, my darling Kit!” said his mother at last “That I should see my poor boy here!”

“You don’t believe that I did what they accuse me of, mother, dear?” cried Kit, in a choking voice.

“I, believe it!” exclaimed the poor woman. “I, that never knew you tell a lie or do a bad action from your cradle. I believe it of the son that’s been a comfort to me from the hour of his birth until this time! I believe it of you, Kit!”