under his cloak and set it on the table. "Cut it in two if you prefer
that plan," said he; "I tried to save it from destruction."

He was a passionate lover of music and could himself play the
concertina with expression and feeling.

I said: "I do not question the purity of your motive: it would be
presumptuous of me to sit in judgment on my father. But business is
business, and with this axe I am going to effect a dissolution of our
partnership unless you will consent in all future burglaries to wear a
bell-punch."

"No," he said, after some reflection, "no, I could not do that; it
would look like a confession of dishonesty. People would say that you
distrusted me."

I could not help admiring his spirit and sensitiveness; for a moment I
was proud of him and disposed to overlook his fault, but a glance at
the richly jeweled music-box decided me, and, as I said, I removed the
old man from this vale of tears. Having done so, I was a trifle
uneasy. Not only was he my father--the author of my being--but the
body would be certainly discovered. It was now broad daylight and my
mother was likely to enter the library at any moment. Under the
circumstances, I thought it expedient to remove her also, which I did.
Then I paid off all the servants and discharged them.

That afternoon I went to the chief of police, told him what I had done
and asked his advice. It would be very painful to me if the facts
became publicly known. My conduct would be generally condemned; the
newspapers would bring it up against me if ever I should run for