“’Toinette Legrange, cried Mr. Burroughs, his face suddenly growing earnest as he turned it upon the boy, and asked,—­

“What is it?  Have you heard of her?”

“Yes, sir.  I found her in the street the night she was lost.  She was dressed in poor clothes, and her hair was cut off.  I didn’t know who she was; and I took her home to my mother, and asked her to keep her for my little sister, because I never got one, and always wanted her.  Then she was sick; and one day you told me she was lost, and showed me the picture and the piece in the paper; and I knew it was her.  Then I thought she was going to die, and I waited to know; and, when she got better, I waited a while longer; and at last she was well, and I couldn’t bear to part with her”—­

“But she is safe now?” interrupted Mr. Burroughs, his look of stern reproach mingling with a sudden hope.

“No, sir:  she’s lost!”

“What!”

Teddy’s white lips tried again and again before they could form the words,—­

“She’s lost again, sir!  She went out walking with Jovarny, that’s an organ-grinder, last Monday morning; and he has taken her off.”

“You miserable fellow!  You had better have killed as well as stolen her!” exclaimed Mr. Burroughs.

Teddy clung to the table, and reeled as if a physical blow had fallen upon him.  It was the first time in the four years they had spent together that his master had spoken to him in anger, and now,—­

“Five days ago!  And what have you done in that time towards looking for her?” asked Mr. Burroughs sternly.

“Nothing, sir.  I wanted to write to you, but couldn’t get any direction.”

“And why didn’t you tell Mr. Barlow, and let him set the police at work?  If you had warned him as soon as you discovered the loss, this organ-grinder might have been caught.  Now he is perhaps in New Orleans, perhaps halfway to Europe.  Why didn’t you tell Barlow, I say?”

“Please, sir, I couldn’t bear telling any one but you that I done it,” said Teddy in a low voice.

“Well, sir, and, now you have told me, you will please walk out of this office, and never enter it again.  I did not imagine, that, in all these months, you were preparing such a pleasant surprise for me.  One question, however:  did your mother know who the child was?”

“No, sir:  never.”

“Then you may thank her that I let you off so easily; but I never desire to see either of you again after to-day.  Wait here for one hour, while I go with a detective to hear your mother’s story and to get a description of this organ-grinder.  At two o’clock, leave the office; and take with you whatever belongs to yourself, and nothing more.”

Mechanically obeying his master’s gesture, Teddy staggered out of the room.  Mr. Burroughs followed him, and, locking the door of the inner office, put the key in his pocket, and went out.

“He thinks I’m a thief!” was the bitter thought that darted through Teddy’s mind; and then, “And how could I steal more than when I stole her?  He’s right to lock up from me.”