When he opened his eyes he found he was lying upon the floor in the
entrance hall of the residence, and he gazed upon two pairs of
handcuffs, one of which was clasped around his wrists, while the other
held his ankles in their steel embrace, while above him, watching his
every movement, was a man dressed in the uniform of a captain of police
who in a most menacing manner fingered the trigger of a revolver, which
Jim recognized as the same weapon that he had attempted to steal off the
parlor table.

Jim could not speak, as his badly crushed throat would not permit this
even had he wished to do so, but he further saw the same charitable lady
who had been so willing to purchase his last needle case, bending over
him, and while she looked at him as he lay there upon the floor before
her, handcuffed like a hardened, dangerous criminal, he heard her plead
with him. "Boy," she said, while her pitying eyes looked straight into
his own, "is there not somewhere in this world a good mother who has
taught you that honesty is always the best policy?" And while tears of
bitter repentance commenced to course down the poor boy's cheeks she
repeated the question, which caused the now heart-broken lad to sob
aloud in his anguish.

A moment later the police patrol was heard clanging in the distance--it
had been called by telephone. It stopped in front of the house and
presently two blue-coats saluted their superior and then picked up the
boy, but before they carried him to the waiting police patrol the
captain told them that as he had come home for dinner a little earlier
than usual, he had divested himself of his heavy pistol and then, while
he was taking a mid-day rest upon the parlor lounge he had watched the
boy sneaking into the room, picking up the revolver from the center
table, and then he pictured to the policemen how he had quietly arisen