WITHIN THE LAW

From The Play Of Bayard Veiller

By Marvin Dana

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER

 I. The Panel of Light II. A Cheerful Prodigal III. Only Three Years IV. Kisses and Kleptomania V. The Victim of the Law VI. Inferno VII. Within the Law VIII. A Tip from Headquarters X. A Legal Document X. Marked Money XI. The Thief XII. A Bridegroom Spurned XIII. The Advent of Griggs XIV. A Wedding Announcement XV. Aftermath of Tragedy XVI. Burke Plots XVII. Outside the Law XVIII. The Noiseless Death XIX. Within the Toils XX. Who Shot Griggs? XXI. Aggie at Bay XXII. The Trap That Failed XXIII. The Confession XXIV. Anguish and Bliss

CHAPTER I. THE PANEL OF LIGHT

The lids of the girl's eyes lifted slowly, and she stared at the panelof light in the wall. Just at the outset, the act of seeing made not theleast impression on her numbed brain. For a long time she continued toregard the dim illumination in the wall with the same passive fixityof gaze. Apathy still lay upon her crushed spirit. In a vague way, sherealized her own inertness, and rested in it gratefully, subtly fearfullest she again arouse to the full horror of her plight. In a curioussubconscious fashion, she was striving to hold on to this deadnessof sensation, thus to win a little respite from the torture that hadexhausted her soul. 

Of a sudden, her eyes noted the black lines that lay across the panelof light. And, in that instant, her spirit was quickened once again. Theclouds lifted from her brain. Vision was clear now. Understanding seizedthe full import of this hideous thing on which she looked.... For thepanel of light was a window, set high within a wall of stone. The rigidlines of black that crossed it were bars--prison bars. It was stilltrue, then: She was in a cell of the Tombs. 

The girl, crouching miserably on the narrow bed, maintained her fixedwatching of the window--that window which was a symbol of her utterdespair. Again, agony wrenched within her. She did not weep: long agoshe had exhausted the relief of tears. She did not pace to and fro inthe comfort of physical movement with which the caged beast finds amocking imitation of liberty: long ago, her physical vigors had beendrained under stress of anguish. Now, she was well-nigh incapable of anybodily activity. There came not even so much as the feeblest moan fromher lips. The torment was far too racking for such futile fashion oflamentation. She merely sat there in a posture of collapse. To alloutward seeming, nerveless, emotionless, an abject creature. Eventhe eyes, which held so fixedly their gaze on the window, were quiteexpressionless. Over them lay a film, like that which veils the eyes ofsome dead thing. Only an occasional languid motion of the lids revealedthe life that remained. 

So still the body. Within the soul, fury raged uncontrolled. For all thedesolate calm of outer seeming, the tragedy of her fate was being actedwith frightful vividness there in memory. In that dreadful remembrance, her spirit was rent asunder anew by realization of that which had becomeher portion.... It was then, as once again the horrible injustice of herfate racked consciousness with its tortures, that the seeds of revoltwere implanted in her heart. The thought of revenge gave to her thefirst meager gleam of comfort that had lightened her moods through manymiserable days and nights. Those seeds of revolt were to be nourishedwell, were to grow into their flower--a poison flower, developed throughthe three years of convict life to which the judge had sentenced her. 

The girl was appalled by the mercilessness of a destiny that had sooutraged right. She was wholly innocent of having done any wrong. Shehad struggled through years of privation to keep herself clean andwholesome, worthy of those gentlefolk from whom she drew her blood. And earnest effort had ended at last under an overwhelmingaccusation--false, yet none the less fatal to her. This accusation, after soul-wearying delays, had culminated to-day in conviction. Thesentence of the court had been imposed upon her: that for three yearsshe should be imprisoned.... This, despite her innocence. She hadendured much--miserably much!--for honesty's sake. There wrought theirony of fate. She had endured bravely for honesty's sake. And the endof it all was shame unutterable. There was nought left her save a wilddream of revenge against the world that had martyrized her. "Vengeanceis mine. I will repay, saith the Lord. "... The admonition could nottouch her now. Why should she care for the decrees of a God who hadabandoned her!

There had been nothing in the life of Mary Turner, before thecatastrophe came, to distinguish it from many another. Its mostsignificant details were of a sordid kind, familiar to poverty. Herfather had been an unsuccessful man, as success is esteemed by thisgeneration of Mammon-worshipers. He was a gentleman, but the trivialfact is of small avail to-day. He was of good birth, and he was thepossessor of an inherited competence. He had, as well, intelligence, butit was not of a financial sort. 

So, little by little, his fortune became shrunken toward nothingness, by reason of injudicious investments. He married a charming woman, who, after a brief period of wedded happiness, gave her life to the birthof the single child of the union, Mary. Afterward, in his distress overthis loss, Ray Turner seemed even more incompetent for the management ofbusiness affairs. As the years passed, the daughter grew toward maturityin an experience of ever-increasing penury. Nevertheless, there was noactual want of the necessities of life, though always a woful lack ofits elegancies. The girl was in the high-school, when her father finallygave over his rather feeble effort of living. Between parent and child, the intimacy had been unusually close. At his death, the father left hera character well instructed in the excellent principles that had beenhis own. That was his sole legacy to her. Of worldly goods, not thevalue of a pin. 

Yet, measured according to the stern standards of adversity, Mary wasfortunate. Almost at once, she procured a humble employment in theEmporium, the great department store owned by Edward Gilder. To besure, the wage was infinitesimal, while the toil was body-breakingsoul-breaking. Still, the pittance could be made to sustain life, andMary was blessed with both soul and body to sustain much. So she mergedherself in the army of workers--in the vast battalion of those that givetheir entire selves to a labor most stern and unremitting, and most illrewarded. 

Mary, nevertheless, avoided the worst perils of her lot. She did notflinch under privation, but went her way through it, if not serenely, atleast without ever a thought of yielding to those temptations that beseta girl who is at once poor and charming. Fortunately for her, thosein closest authority over her were not so deeply smitten as to makeobligatory on her a choice between complaisance and loss of position. She knew of situations like that, the cul-de-sac of chastity, worsethan any devised by a Javert. In the store, such things were matters ofcourse. There is little innocence for the girl in the modern city. There can be none for the worker thrown into the storm-center of a greatcommercial activity, humming with vicious gossip, all alive withquips from the worldly wise. At the very outset of her employment, thesixteen-year-old girl learned that she might eke out the six dollarsweekly by trading on her personal attractiveness to those of theopposite sex. The idea was repugnant to her; not only from the maidenlyinstinct of purity, but also from the moral principles woven into hercharacter by the teachings of a father wise in most things, though afool in finance. Thus, she remained unsmirched, though well informed asto the verities of life. She preferred purity and penury, rather than aslight pampering of the body to be bought by its degradation. Among herfellows were some like herself; others, unlike. Of her own sort, in thissingle particular, were the two girls with whom she shared a cheap room. Their common decency in attitude toward the other sex was the uniquebond of union. In their association, she found no real companionship. Nevertheless, they were wholesome enough. Otherwise they wereilliterate, altogether uncongenial. 

In such wise, through five dreary years, Mary Turner lived. Nine hoursdaily, she stood behind a counter. She spent her other waking hoursin obligatory menial labors: cooking her own scant meals over the gas;washing and ironing, for the sake of that neat appearance which wasrequired of her by those in authority at the Emporium--yet, moreespecially, necessary for her own self-respect. With a mind keen andearnest, she contrived some solace from reading and studying, sincethe free library gave her this opportunity. So, though engaged instultifying occupation through most of her hours, she was able to findfood for mental growth. Even, in the last year, she had reached a pointof development whereat she began to study seriously her own position inthe world's economy, to meditate on a method of bettering it. Under thisimpulse, hope mounted high in her heart. Ambition was born. By candidcomparison of herself with others about her, she realized the fact thatshe possessed an intelligence beyond the average. The training by herfather, too, had been of a superior kind. There was as well, at the backvaguely, the feeling of particular self-respect that belongs inevitablyto the possessor of good blood. Finally, she demurely enjoyed a modestappreciation of her own physical advantages. In short, she hadbeauty, brains and breeding. Three things of chief importance to anywoman--though there be many minds as to which may be chief among thethree. 

I have said nothing specific thus far as to the outer being of MaryTurner--except as to filmed eyes and a huddled form. But, in a happiersituation, the girl were winning enough. Indeed, more! She was one ofthose that possess an harmonious beauty, with, too, the penetrant charmthat springs from the mind, with the added graces born of the spirit. Just now, as she sat, a figure of desolation, there on the bed inthe Tombs cell, it would have required a most analytical observer todetermine the actualities of her loveliness. Her form was disguised bythe droop of exhaustion. Her complexion showed the pallor of sorrowfulvigils. Her face was no more than a mask of misery. Yet, the shrewdobserver, if a lover of beauty, might have found much for delight, evendespite the concealment imposed by her present condition. Thus, thestormy glory of her dark hair, great masses that ran a riot of shiningripples and waves. And the straight line of the nose, not too thin, yetfine enough for the rapture of a Praxiteles. And the pink daintiness ofthe ear-tips, which peered warmly from beneath the pall of tresses. Onecould know nothing accurately of the complexion now. But it were easy toguess that in happier places it would show of a purity to entice, with agentle blooming of roses in the cheeks. Even in this hour of unmitigatedevil, the lips revealed a curving beauty of red--not quite crimson, though near enough for the word; not quite scarlet either; only, a redgently enchanting, which turned one's thoughts toward tenderness--witha hint of desire. It was, too, a generous mouth, not too large; still, happily, not so small as those modeled by Watteau. It wasaltogether winsome--more, it was generous and true, desirable forkisses--yes!--more desirable for strength and for faith. 

Like every intelligent woman, Mary had taken the trouble to reinforcethe worth of her physical attractiveness. The instinct of sex wasstrong in her, as it must be in every normal woman, since that appeal isnature's law. She kept herself supple and svelte by many exercises, atwhich her companions in the chamber scoffed, with the prudent warningthat more work must mean more appetite. With arms still aching fromthe lifting of heavy bolts of cloth to and fro from the shelves, shenevertheless was at pains nightly to brush with the appointed twohundred strokes the thick masses of her hair. Even here, in the sordiddesolation of the cell, the lustrous sheen witnessed the fidelity ofher care. So, in each detail of her, the keen observer might have foundadequate reason for admiration. There was the delicacy of the hands, with fingers tapering, with nails perfectly shaped, neither too dullnor too shining. And there were, too, finally, the trimly shod feet, setrather primly on the floor, small, and arched like those of a SpanishInfanta. In truth, Mary Turner showed the possibilities at least, if notjust now the realities, of a very beautiful woman. 

Naturally, in this period of grief, the girl's mind had no concern withsuch external merits over which once she had modestly exulted. Allher present energies were set to precise recollection of the ghastlyexperience into which she had been thrust. 

In its outline, the event had been tragically simple. 

There had been thefts in the store. They had been traced eventually to acertain department, that in which Mary worked. The detective was alert. Some valuable silks were missed. Search followed immediately. The goodswere found in Mary's locker. That was enough. She was charged with thetheft. She protested innocence--only to be laughed at in derision byher accusers. Every thief declares innocence. Mr. Gilder himself wasemphatic against her. The thieving had been long continued. An examplemust be made. The girl was arrested. 

The crowded condition of the court calendar kept her for three months inthe Tombs, awaiting trial. She was quite friendless. To the world, shewas only a thief in duress. At the last, the trial was very short. Herlawyer was merely an unfledged practitioner assigned to her defense asa formality of the court. This novice in his profession was so gratefulfor the first recognition ever afforded him that he rather assisted thanotherwise the District Attorney in the prosecution of the case. 

At the end, twelve good men and true rendered a verdict of guiltyagainst the shuddering girl in the prisoner's dock. 

So simple the history of Mary Turner's trial.... The sentence of thejudge was lenient--only three years!

CHAPTER II. A CHEERFUL PRODIGAL. 

That which was the supreme tragedy to the broken girl in the cell merelyafforded rather agreeable entertainment to her former fellows of thedepartment store. Mary Turner throughout her term of service there hadbeen without real intimates, so that now none was ready to mourn overher fate. Even the two room-mates had felt some slight offense, sincethey sensed the superiority of her, though vaguely. Now, they founda smug satisfaction in the fact of her disaster as emphasizing verypleasurably their own continuance in respectability. 

As many a philosopher has observed, we secretly enjoy the misfortunes ofothers, particularly of our friends, since they are closest to us. Mostpersons hasten to deny this truth in its application to themselves. Theydo so either because from lack of clear understanding they are not quitehonest with themselves, from lack of clear introspection, or because, asmay be more easily believed, they are not quite honest in the assertion. As a matter of fact, we do find a singular satisfaction in the troublesof others. Contemplation of such suffering renders more striking thecontrasted well-being of our own lot. We need the pains of othersto serve as background for our joys--just as sin is essential as thebackground for any appreciation of virtue, even any knowledge of itsexistence.... So now, on the day of Mary Turner's trial, there was asubtle gaiety of gossipings to and fro through the store. The girl'splight was like a shuttlecock driven hither and yon by the battledoresof many tongues. It was the first time in many years that one of theemployees had been thus accused of theft. Shoplifters were so common asto be a stale topic. There was a refreshing novelty in this case, where one of themselves was the culprit. Her fellow workers chatteddesultorily of her as they had opportunity, and complacently thankedtheir gods that they were not as she--with reason. Perhaps, a very fewwere kindly hearted enough to feel a touch of sympathy for this ruin ofa life. 

Of such was Smithson, a member of the executive staff, who did nothesitate to speak his mind, though none too forcibly. As for that, Smithson, while the possessor of a dignity nourished by years offloor-walking, was not given to the holding of vigorous opinions. Yet, his comment, meager as it was, stood wholly in Mary's favor. And hespoke with a certain authority, since he had given official attention tothe girl. 

Smithson stopped Sarah Edwards, Mr. Gilder's private secretary, as shewas passing through one of the departments that morning, to ask her ifthe owner had yet reached his office. 

"Been and gone, " was the secretary's answer, with the tersenesscharacteristic of her. 

"Gone!" Smithson repeated, evidently somewhat disturbed by theinformation. "I particularly wanted to see him. "

"He'll be back, all right, " Sarah vouchsafed, amiably. "He wentdown-town, to the Court of General Sessions. The judge sent for himabout the Mary Turner case. "

"Oh, yes, I remember now, " Smithson exclaimed. Then he added, with atrace of genuine feeling, "I hope the poor girl gets off. She was a nicegirl--quite the lady, you know, Miss Edwards. "

"No, I don't know, " Sarah rejoined, a bit tartly. Truth to tell, thesecretary was haunted by a grim suspicion that she herself was not quitethe lady of her dreams, and never would be able to acquire the graces ofthe Vere De Vere. For Sarah, while a most efficient secretary, was notin her person of that slender elegance which always characterized herfavorite heroines in the novels she affected. On the contrary, she wasof a sort to have gratified Byron, who declared that a woman in hermaturity should be plump. Now, she recalled with a twinge of envy thatthe accused girl had been of an aristocratic slimness of form. "Oh, didyou know her?" she questioned, without any real interest. 

Smithson answered with that bland stateliness of manner which was thefruit of floor-walking politeness. 

"Well, I couldn't exactly say I knew her, and yet I might say, after amanner of speaking, that I did--to a certain extent. You see, they puther in my department when she first came here to work. She was a goodsaleswoman, as saleswomen go. For the matter of that, " he added with asudden access of energy, "she was the last girl in the world I'd takefor a thief. " He displayed some evidences of embarrassment over thehonest feeling into which he had been betrayed, and made haste torecover his usual business manner, as he continued formally. "Will youplease let me know when Mr. Gilder arrives? There are one or two littlematters I wish to discuss with him. "

"All right!" Sarah agreed briskly, and she hurried on toward the privateoffice. 

The secretary was barely seated at her desk when the violent opening ofthe door startled her, and, as she looked up, a cheery voice cried out:

"Hello, Dad!"

At the same moment, a young man entered, with an air of care-freeassurance, his face radiant. But, as his glance went to the emptyarm-chair at the desk, he halted abruptly, and his expression changed toone of disappointment. 

"Not here!" he grumbled. Then, once again the smile was on his lipsas his eyes fell on the secretary, who had now risen to her feet in aflutter of excitement. 

"Why, Mr. Dick!" Sarah gasped. 

"Hello, Sadie!" came the genial salutation. The young man advanced andshook hands with her warmly. "I'm home again. Where's Dad?"

Even as he asked the question, the quick sobering of his face borewitness to his disappointment over not finding his father in the office. For such was the relationship of the owner of the department store tothis new arrival on the scene. And in the patent chagrin under which theson now labored was to be found a certain indication of character notto be disregarded. Unlike many a child, he really loved his father. Thedeath of the mother years before had left him without other opportunityfor affection in the home, since he had neither brother nor sister. Heloved his father with a depth of feeling that made between the two areal camaraderie, despite great differences in temperament. In thatsimple and sincere regard which he bore for his father, the boy revealeda heart ready for love, willing to give of itself its best for the onebeloved. Beyond that, as yet, there was little to be said of him withexactness. He was a spoiled child of fortune, if you wish to have itso. Certainly, he was only a drone in the world's hive. Thus far, hehad enjoyed the good things of life, without ever doing aught to deservethem by contributing in return--save by his smiles and his genial air ofhappiness. 

In the twenty-three years of his life, every gift that money couldlavish had been his. If the sum total of benefit was small, at leastthere remained the consoling fact that the harm was even less. Luxuryhad not sapped the strength of him. He had not grown vicious, as have somany of his fellows among the sons of the rich. Some instinct held himaloof from the grosser vices. His were the trifling faults that hadtheir origin chiefly in the joy of life, which manifest occasionally inriotous extravagancies, of a sort actually to harm none, however absurdand useless they may be. 

So much one might see by a glance into the face. He was well groomed, of course; healthy, all a-tingle with vitality. And in the clear eyes, which avoided no man's gaze, nor sought any woman's unseemly, thereshowed a soul untainted, not yet developed, not yet debased. Through allhis days, Dick Gilder had walked gladly, in the content that springs tothe call of one possessed of a capacity for enjoyment; possessed, too, of every means for the gratification of desire. As yet, the man of himwas unrevealed in its integrity. No test had been put upon him. Thefires of suffering had not tried the dross of him. What real worth mightlie under this sunny surface the future must determine. There showed nowonly this one significant fact: that, in the first moment of his returnfrom journeyings abroad, he sought his father with all eagerness, andwas sorely grieved because the meeting must still be delayed. It was alittle thing, perhaps. Yet, it was capable of meaning much concerningthe nature of the lad. It revealed surely a tender heart, one responsiveto a pure love. And to one of his class, there are many forces everpresent to atrophy such simple, wholesome power of loving. The abilityto love cleanly and absolutely is the supreme virtue. 

Sarah explained that Mr. Gilder had been called to the Court of GeneralSessions by the judge. 

Dick interrupted her with a gust of laughter. 

"What's Dad been doing now?" he demanded, his eyes twinkling. Then, a reminiscent grin shaped itself on his lips. "Remember the time thatfresh cop arrested him for speeding? Wasn't he wild? I thought he wouldhave the whole police force discharged. " He smiled again. "The troubleis, " he declared sedately, "that sort of thing requires practice. Now, when I'm arrested for speeding, I'm not in the least flustered--oh, nota little bit! But poor Dad! That one experience of his almost soured hiswhole life. It was near the death of him--also, of the city's finest. "

By this time, the secretary had regained her usual poise, which had beensomewhat disturbed by the irruption of the young man. Her round faceshone delightedly as she regarded him. There was a maternal note ofrebuke in her voice as she spoke:

"Why, we didn't expect you back for two or three months yet. "

Once again, Dick laughed, with an infectious gaiety that brought a smileof response to the secretary's lips. 

"Sadie, " he explained confidentially, "don't you dare ever to let theold man know. He would be all swollen up. It's bad to let a parent swellup. But the truth is, Sadie, I got kind of homesick for Dad--yes, justthat!" He spoke the words with a sort of shamefaced wonder. It is noteasy for an Anglo-Saxon to confess the realities of affection invital intimacies. He repeated the phrase in a curiously appreciativehesitation, as one astounded by his own emotion. "Yes, homesick forDad!"

Then, to cover an excess of sincere feeling, he continued, with a burstof laughter:

"Besides, Sadie, I was broke. "

The secretary sniffed. 

"The cable would have handled that end of it, I guess, " she said, succinctly. 

There was no word of contradiction from Dick, who, from ampleexperience, knew that any demand for funds would have received answerfrom the father. 

"But what is Dad doing in court?" he demanded. 

Sarah explained the matter with her usual conciseness:

"One of the girls was arrested for stealing. "

The nature of the son was shown then clearly in one of its best aspects. At once, he exhibited his instinct toward the quality of mercy, and, too, his trust in the father whom he loved, by his eager comment. 

"And Dad went to court to get her out of the scrape. That's just likethe old man!"

Sarah, however, showed no hint of enthusiasm. Her mind was ever of theprosaic sort, little prone to flights. In that prosaic quality, was tobe found the explanation of her dependability as a private secretary. So, now, she merely made a terse statement. 

"She was tried to-day, and convicted. The judge sent for Mr. Gilder tocome down this morning and have a talk with him about the sentence. "

There was no lessening of the expression of certainty on the young man'sface. He loved his father, and he trusted where he loved. 

"It will be all right, " he declared, in a tone of entire conviction. "Dad's heart is as big as a barrel. He'll get her off. "

Then, of a sudden, Dick gave a violent start. He added a convincinggroan. 

"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, dismally. There was shame in his voice. "Iforgot all about it!"

The secretary regarded him with an expression of amazement. 

"All about what?" she questioned. 

Dick assumed an air vastly more confidential than at any time hitherto. He leaned toward the secretary's desk, and spoke with a new seriousnessof manner:

"Sadie, have you any money? I'm broker My taxi' has been waiting outsideall this time. "

"Why, yes, " the secretary said, cheerfully. "If you will----"

Dick was discreet enough to turn his attention to a picture on thewall opposite while Sarah went through those acrobatic performancesobligatory on women who take no chances of losing money by carrying itin purses. 

"There!" she called after a few panting seconds, and exhibited a flushedface. 

Dick turned eagerly and seized the banknote offered him. 

"Mighty much obliged, Sadie, " he said, enthusiastically. "But I mustrun. Otherwise, this wouldn't be enough for the fare!" And, so saying, he darted out of the room. 

CHAPTER III. ONLY THREE YEARS. 

When, at last, the owner of the store entered the office, his faceshowed extreme irritation. He did not vouchsafe any greeting to thesecretary, who regarded him with an accurate perception of his mood. With a diplomacy born of long experience, in her first speech Sarahafforded an agreeable diversion to her employer's line of thought. 

"Mr. Hastings, of the Empire store, called you up, Mr. Gilder, and askedme to let him know when you returned. Shall I get him on the wire?"

The man's face lightened instantly, and there was even the beginning ofa smile on his lips as he seated himself at the great mahogany desk. 

"Yes, yes!" he exclaimed, with evident enthusiasm. The smile grew inthe short interval before the connection was made. When, finally, he addressed his friend over the telephone, his tones were of thecheerfulest. 

"Oh, good morning. Yes, certainly. Four will suit me admirably.... Sunday? Yes, if you like. We can go out after church, and have luncheonat the country club. " After listening a moment, he laughed in a pleasedfashion that had in it a suggestion of conscious superiority. "My dearfellow, " he declared briskly, "you couldn't beat me in a thousand years. Why, I made the eighteen holes in ninety-two only last week. " He laughedagain at the answer over the wire, then hung up the receiver and pushedthe telephone aside, as he turned his attention to the papers neatlyarranged on the desk ready to his hand. 

The curiosity of the secretary could not be longer delayed. 

"What did they do with the Turner girl?" she inquired in an elaboratelycasual manner. 

Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answered ratherharshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding. 

"I don't know--I couldn't wait, " he said. He made a petulant gesture ashe went on: "I don't see why Judge Lawlor bothered me about the matter. He is the one to impose sentence, not I. I am hours behind with my worknow. "

For a few minutes he gave himself up to the routine of business, distributing the correspondence and other various papers for the actionof subordinates, and speaking his orders occasionally to the attentivesecretary with a quickness and precision that proclaimed the capableexecutive. The observer would have realized at once that here was aman obviously fitted to the control of large affairs. The ability thatmarches inevitably to success showed unmistakably in the face and form, and in the fashion of speech. Edward Gilder was a big man physically, plainly the possessor of that abundant vital energy which is a primerequisite for achievement in the ordering of modern business concerns. Force was, indeed, the dominant quality of the man. His tall figure wasproportionately broad, and he was heavily fleshed. In fact, the body wastoo ponderous. Perhaps, in that characteristic might be found a clueto the chief fault in his nature. For he was ponderous, spiritually andmentally, as well as materially. The fact was displayed suggestively inthe face, which was too heavy with its prominent jowls and aggressivechin and rather bulbous nose. But there was nothing flabby anywhere. The ample features showed no trace of weakness, only a rude, aboundingstrength. There was no lighter touch anywhere. Evidently a just manaccording to his own ideas, yet never one to temper justice with mercy. He appeared, and was, a very practical and most prosaic business man. Hewas not given to a humorous outlook on life. He took it and himself withthe utmost seriousness. He was almost entirely lacking in imagination, that faculty which is essential to sympathy. 

"Take this, " he directed presently, when he had disposed of the mattersbefore him. Forthwith, he dictated the following letter, and now hisvoice took on a more unctuous note, as of one who is appreciative of hisown excellent generosity. 

"THE EDITOR, "The New York Herald. 

"DEAR SIR: Inclosed please find my check for a thousand dollars for yourfree-ice fund. It is going to be a very hard summer for the poor, andI hope by thus starting the contributions for your fine charity atthis early day that you will be able to accomplish even more good thanusually. 

"Very truly yours. "

He turned an inquiring glance toward Sarah. 

"That's what I usually give, isn't it?"

The secretary nodded energetically. 

"Yes, " she agreed in her brisk manner, "that's what you have given everyyear for the last ten years. "

The statement impressed Gilder pleasantly. His voice was more mellow ashe made comment. His heavy face was radiant, and he smiled complacently. 

"Ten thousand dollars to this one charity alone!" he exclaimed. "Well, it is pleasant to be able to help those less fortunate than ourselves. "He paused, evidently expectant of laudatory corroboration from thesecretary. 

But Sarah, though she could be tactful enough on occasion, did notchoose to meet her employer's anticipations just now. For that matter, her intimate services permitted on her part some degree of familiaritywith the august head of the establishment. Besides, she did not stand inawe of Gilder, as did the others in his service. No man is a hero tohis valet, or to his secretary. Intimate association is hostile tohero-worship. So, now, Sarah spoke nonchalantly, to the indignation ofthe philanthropist:

"Oh, yes, sir. Specially when you make so much that you don't miss it. "

Gilder's thick gray brows drew down in a frown of displeasure, while hiseyes opened slightly in sheer surprise over the secretary's unexpectedremark. He hesitated for only an instant before replying with an airof great dignity, in which was a distinct note of rebuke for the girl'spresumption. 

"The profits from my store are large, I admit, Sarah. But I neithersmuggle my goods, take rebates from railroads, conspire against smallcompetitors, nor do any of the dishonest acts that disgrace otherlines of business. So long as I make my profits honestly, I am honestlyentitled to them, no matter how big they are. "

The secretary, being quite content with the havoc she had wrought in heremployer's complacency over his charitableness, nodded, and contentedherself with a demure assent to his outburst. 

"Yes, sir, " she agreed, very meekly. 

Gilder stared at her for a few seconds, somewhat indignantly. Then, he bethought himself of a subtle form of rebuke by emphasizing hisgenerosity. 

"Have the cashier send my usual five hundred to the CharitiesOrganization Society, " he ordered. With this new evidence of hisgenerous virtue, the frown passed from his brows. If, for a fleetingmoment, doubt had assailed him under the spur of the secretary's words, that doubt had now vanished under his habitual conviction as to hissterling worth to the world at large. 

It was, therefore, with his accustomed blandness of manner that hepresently acknowledged the greeting of George Demarest, the chief of thelegal staff that looked after the firm's affairs. He was aware withoutbeing told that the lawyer had called to acquaint him with the issue inthe trial of Mary Turner. 

"Well, Demarest?" he inquired, as the dapper attorney advanced into theroom at a rapid pace, and came to a halt facing the desk, after a livelynod in the direction of the secretary. 

The lawyer's face sobered, and his tone as he answered was tinged withconstraint. 

"Judge Lawlor gave her three years, " he replied, gravely. It was plainfrom his manner that he did not altogether approve. 

But Gilder was unaffected by the attorney's lack of satisfaction overthe result. On the contrary, he smiled exultantly. His oritund voicetook on a deeper note, as he turned toward the secretary. 

"Good!" he exclaimed. "Take this, Sarah. " And he continued, as the girlopened her notebook and poised the pencil: "Be sure to have Smithsonpost a copy of it conspicuously in all the girls' dressing-rooms, and inthe reading-room, and in the lunch-rooms, and in the assembly-room. " Hecleared his throat ostentatiously and proceeded to the dictation of thenotice:

"Mary Turner, formerly employed in this store, was to-day sentenced toprison for three years, having been convicted for the theft of goodsvalued at over four hundred dollars. The management wishes again todraw attention on the part of its employees to the fact that honesty isalways the best policy.... Got that?"

"Yes, sir. " The secretary's voice was mechanical, without any trace offeeling. She was not minded to disturb her employer a second time thismorning by injudicious comment. 

"Take it to Smithson, " Gilder continued, "and tell him that I wish himto attend to its being posted according to my directions at once. "

Again, the girl made her formal response in the affirmative, then leftthe room. 

Gilder brought forth a box of cigars from a drawer of the desk, openedit and thrust it toward the waiting lawyer, who, however, shook hishead in refusal, and continued to move about the room rather restlessly. Demarest paid no attention to the other's invitation to a seat, but thecourtesy was perfunctory on Gilder's part, and he hardly perceivedthe perturbation of his caller, for he was occupied in selecting andlighting a cigar with the care of a connoisseur. Finally, he spokeagain, and now there was an infinite contentment in the rich voice. 

"Three years--three years! That ought to be a warning to the rest of thegirls. " He looked toward Demarest for acquiescence. 

The lawyer's brows were knit as he faced the proprietor of the store. 

"Funny thing, this case!" he ejaculated. "In some features, one of themost unusual I have seen since I have been practicing law. "

The smug contentment abode still on Gilder's face as he puffed inleisurely ease on his cigar and uttered a trite condolence. 

"Very sad!--quite so! Very sad case, I call it. " Demarest went onspeaking, with a show of feeling: "Most unusual case, in my estimation. You see, the girl keeps on declaring her innocence. That, of course, iscommon enough in a way. But here, it's different. The point is, somehow, she makes her protestations more convincing than they usually do. Theyring true, as it seems to me. "

Gilder smiled tolerantly. 

"They didn't ring very true to the jury, it would seem, " he retorted. And his voice was tart as he added: "Nor to the judge, since he deemedit his duty to give her three years. "

"Some persons are not very sensitive to impressions in such cases, Iadmit, " Demarest returned, coolly. If he meant any subtlety of allusionto his hearer, it failed wholly to pierce the armor of complacency. 

"The stolen goods were found in her locker, " Gilder declared in atone of finality. "Some of them, I have been given to understand, wereactually in the pocket of her coat. "

"Well, " the attorney said with a smile, "that sort of thing makesgood-enough circumstantial evidence, and without circumstantial evidencethere would be few convictions for crime. Yet, as a lawyer, I'm free toadmit that circumstantial evidence alone is never quite safe as proof ofguilt. Naturally, she says some one else must have put the stolen goodsthere. As a matter of exact reasoning, that is quite within the measureof possibility. That sort of thing has been done countless times. "

Gilder sniffed indignantly. 

"And for what reason?" he demanded. "It's too absurd to think about. "

"In similar cases, " the lawyer answered, "those actually guilty of thethefts have thus sought to throw suspicion on the innocent in orderto avoid it on themselves when the pursuit got too hot on their trail. Sometimes, too, such evidence has been manufactured merely to satisfy aspite against the one unjustly accused. "

"It's too absurd to think about, " Gilder repeated, impatiently. "Thejudge and the jury found no fault with the evidence. "

Demarest realized that this advocacy in behalf of the girl was hardlyfitting on the part of the legal representative of the store she wassupposed to have robbed, so he abruptly changed his line of argument. 

"She says that her record of five years in your employ ought to countsomething in her favor. "

Gilder, however, was not disposed to be sympathetic as to a matter soflagrantly opposed to his interests. 

"A court of justice has decreed her guilty, " he asserted once again, in his ponderous manner. His emphasis indicated that there the affairended. 

Demarest smiled cynically as he strode to and fro. 

"Nowadays, " he shot out, "we don't call them courts of justice: we callthem courts of law. "

Gilder yielded only a rather dubious smile over the quip. This much hefelt that he could afford, since those same courts served his personalpurposes well in deed. 

"Anyway, " he declared, becoming genial again, "it's out of our hands. There's nothing we can do, now. "

"Why, as to that, " the lawyer replied, with a hint of hesitation, "I amnot so sure. You see, the fact of the matter is that, though I helped toprosecute the case, I am not a little bit proud of the verdict. "

Gilder raised his eyebrows in unfeigned astonishment. Even yet, he wasquite without appreciation of the attorney's feeling in reference to theconduct of the case. 

"Why?" he questioned, sharply. 

"Because, " the lawyer said, again halting directly before the desk, "inspite of all the evidence against her, I am not sure that Mary Turner isguilty--far from it, in fact!"

Gilder uttered an ejaculation of contempt, but Demarest went onresolutely. 

"Anyhow, " he explained, "the girl wants to see you, and I wish to urgeyou to grant her an interview. "

Gilder flared at this suggestion, and scowled wrathfully on the lawyer, who, perhaps with professional prudence, had turned away in his rapidpacing of the room. 

"What's the use?" Gilder stormed. A latent hardness revealed itself atthe prospect of such a visitation. And along with this hardness cameanother singular revelation of the nature of the man. For there wasconsternation in his voice, as he continued in vehement expostulationagainst the idea. If there was harshness in his attitude there was, too, a fugitive suggestion of tenderness alarmed over the prospect ofundergoing such an interview with a woman. 

"I can't have her crying all over the office and begging for mercy, " heprotested, truculently. But a note of fear lay under the petulance. 

Demarest's answer was given with assurance, "You are mistaken about that. The girl doesn't beg for mercy. In fact, that's the whole point of the matter. She demands justice--strange asthat may seem, in a court of law!--and nothing else. The truth is, she'sa very unusual girl, a long way beyond the ordinary sales-girl, both inbrains and in education. "

"The less reason, then, for her being a thief, " Gilder grumbled in hisheaviest voice. 

"And perhaps the less reason for believing her to be a thief, " thelawyer retorted, suavely. He paused for a moment, then went on. Therewas a tone of sincere determination in his voice. "Just before the judgeimposed sentence, he asked her if she had anything to say. You know, it's just a usual form--a thing that rarely means much of anything. But this case was different, let me tell you. She surprised us all byanswering at once that she had. It's really a pity, Gilder, that youdidn't wait. Why, that poor girl made a--damn--fine speech!"

The lawyer's forensic aspirations showed in his honest appreciation ofthe effectiveness of such oratory from the heart as he had heard in thecourtroom that day. 

"Pooh! pooh!" came the querulous objection. "She seems to havehypnotized you. " Then, as a new thought came to the magnate, he spokewith a trace of anxiety. There were always the reporters, looking forspace to fill with foolish vaporings. 

"Did she say anything against me, or the store?"

"Not a word, " the lawyer replied, gravely. His smile of appreciation wasdiscreetly secret. "She merely told us how her father died when she wassixteen years old. She was compelled after that to earn her own living. Then she told how she had worked for you for five years steadily, without there ever being a single thing against her. She said, too, thatshe had never seen the things found in her locker. And she said morethan that! She asked the judge if he himself understood what it meansfor a girl to be sentenced to prison for something she hadn't done. Somehow, Gilder, the way she talked had its effect on everybody in thecourtroom. I know! It's my business to understand things like that. Andwhat she said rang true. What she said, and the way she said it, take brains and courage. The ordinary crook has neither. So, I had asuspicion that she might be speaking the truth. You see, Gilder, it allrang true! And it's my business to know how things ring in thatway. " There was a little pause, while the lawyer moved back and forthnervously. Then, he added: "I believe Lawlor would have suspendedsentence if it hadn't been for your talk with him. "

There were not wanting signs that Gilder was impressed. But the gentlerfibers of the man were atrophied by the habits of a lifetime. What hearthe had once possessed had been buried in the grave of his young wife, tobe resurrected only for his son. In most things, he was consistently ahard man. Since he had no imagination, he could have no real sympathy. 

He whirled about in his swivel chair, and blew a cloud of smoke from hismouth. When he spoke, his voice was deeply resonant. 

"I simply did my duty, " he said. "You are aware that I did not seekany consultation with Judge Lawlor. He sent for me, and asked me what Ithought about the case--whether I thought it would be right to let thegirl go on a suspended sentence. I told him frankly that I believed thatan example should be made of her, for the sake of others who might betempted to steal. Property has some rights, Demarest, although it seemsto be getting nowadays so that anybody is likely to deny it. " Then thefretful, half-alarmed note sounded in his voice again, as he continued:"I can't understand why the girl wants to see me. "

The lawyer smiled dryly, since he had his back turned at the moment. 

"Why, " he vouchsafed, "she just said that, if you would see her for tenminutes, she would tell you how to stop the thefts in this store. "

Gilder displayed signs of triumph. He brought his chair to a level andpounded the desk with a weighty fist. 

"There!" he cried. "I knew it. The girl wants to confess. Well, it'sthe first sign of decent feeling she's shown. I suppose it ought to beencouraged. Probably there have been others mixed up in this. "

Demarest attempted no denial. 

"Perhaps, " he admitted, though he spoke altogether without conviction. "But, " he continued insinuatingly, "at least it can do no harm if yousee her. I thought you would be willing, so I spoke to the DistrictAttorney, and he has given orders to bring her here for a few minutes onthe way to the Grand Central Station. They're taking her up to Burnsing, you know. I wish, Gilder, you would have a little talk with her. No harmin that!" With the saying, the lawyer abruptly went out of the office, leaving the owner of the store fuming. 

CHAPTER IV. KISSES AND KLEPTOMANIA. 

"Hello, Dad!"

After the attorney's departure, Gilder had been rather fussily goingover some of the papers on his desk. He was experiencing a vague feelingof injury on account of the lawyer's ill-veiled efforts to arouse hissympathy in behalf of the accused girl. In the instinct of strengtheninghimself against the possibility of yielding to what he deemed weakness, the magnate rehearsed the facts that justified his intolerance, and, indeed, soon came to gloating over the admirable manner in whichrighteousness thrives in the world. And it was then that an interruptioncame in the utterance of two words, words of affection, of love, criedout in the one voice he most longed to hear--for the voice was that ofhis son. Yet, he did not look up. The thing was altogether impossible!The boy was philandering, junketing, somewhere on the Riviera. Hisfirst intimation as to the exact place would come in the form of a cableasking for money. Somehow, his feelings had been unduly stirred thatmorning; he had grown sentimental, dreaming of pleasant things.... Allthis in a second. Then, he looked up. Why, it was true! It was Dick'sface there, smiling in the doorway. Yes, it was Dick, it was Dickhimself! Gilder sprang to his feet, his face suddenly grown younger, radiant. 

"Dick!" The big voice was softened to exquisite tenderness. 

As the eyes of the two met, the boy rushed forward, and in the nextmoment the hands of father and son clasped firmly. They were silent inthe first emotion of their greeting. Presently, Gilder spoke, with aneffort toward harshness in his voice to mask how much he was shaken. But the tones rang more kindly than any he had used for many a day, tremulous with affection. 

"What brought you back?" he demanded. 

Dick, too, had felt the tension of an emotion far beyond that of theusual things. He was forced to clear his throat before he answeredwith that assumption of nonchalance which he regarded as befitting theoccasion. 

"Why, I just wanted to come back home, " he said; lightly. A suddenrecollection came to give him poise in this time of emotionaldisturbance, and he added hastily: "And, for the love of heaven, giveSadie five dollars. I borrowed it from her to pay the taxi'. You see, Dad, I'm broke. "

"Of course!" With the saying, Edward Gilder roared Gargantuan laughter. In the burst of merriment, his pent feelings found their vent. Hewas still chuckling when he spoke, sage from much experience of oceantravel. "Poker on the ship, I suppose. "

The young man, too, smiled reminiscently as he answered:

"No, not that, though I did have a little run in at Monte Carlo. But itwas the ship that finished me, at that. You see, Dad, they hired CaptainKidd and a bunch of pirates as stewards, and what they did to littleRichard was something fierce. And yet, that wasn't the real trouble, either. The fact is, I just naturally went broke. Not a hard thing to doon the other side. "

"Nor on this, " the father interjected, dryly. 

"Anyhow, it doesn't matter much, " Dick replied, quite unabashed. "Tellme, Dad, how goes it?"

Gilder settled himself again in his chair, and gazed benignantly on hisson. 

"Pretty well, " he said contentedly; "pretty well, son. I'm glad to seeyou home again, my boy. " There was a great tenderness in the usuallyrather cold gray eyes. 

The young man answered promptly, with delight in his manner of speech, and a sincerity that revealed the underlying merit of his nature. 

"And I'm glad to be home, Dad, to be"--there was again that clearing ofthe throat, but he finished bravely--"with you. "

The father avoided a threatening display of emotion by an abrupt changeof subject to the trite. 

"Have a good time?" he inquired casually, while fumbling with the paperson the desk. 

Dick's face broke in a smile of reminiscent happiness. 

"The time of my young life!" He paused, and the smile broadened. Therewas a mighty enthusiasm in his voice as he continued: "I tell you, Dad, it's a fact that I did almost break the bank at Monte Carlo. I'd havedone it sure, if only my money had held out. "

"It seems to me that I've heard something of the sort before, " wasGilder's caustic comment. But his smile was still wholly sympathetic. Hetook a curious vicarious delight in the escapades of his son, probablybecause he himself had committed no follies in his callow days. "Whydidn't you cable me?" he asked, puzzled at such restraint on the part ofhis son. 

Dick answered with simple sincerity. 

"Because it gave me a capital excuse for coming home. "

It was Sarah who afforded a diversion. She had known Dick while he wasyet a child, had bought him candy, had felt toward him a maternal likingthat increased rather than diminished as he grew to manhood. Now, herface lighted at sight of him, and she smiled a welcome. 

"I see you have found him, " she said, with a ripple of laughter. 

Dick welcomed this interruption of the graver mood. 

"Sadie, " he said, with a manner of the utmost seriousness, "you arelooking finer than ever. And how thin you have grown!"

The girl, eager with fond fancies toward the slender ideal, accepted thecompliment literally. 

"Oh, Mr. Dick!" she exclaimed, rapturously. "How much do you think Ihave lost?"

The whimsical heir of the house of Gilder surveyed his victimcritically, then spoke with judicial solemnity. 

"About two ounces, Sadie. "

There came a look of deep hurt on Sadie's face at the flippant jest, which Dick himself was quick to note. 

He had not guessed she was thus acutely sensitive concerning herplumpness. Instantly, he was all contrition over his unwitting offenseinflicted on her womanly vanity. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sadie, " he exclaimed penitently. "Please don't be reallyangry with me. Of course, I didn't mean----"

"To twit on facts!" the secretary interrupted, bitterly. 

"Pooh!" Dick cried, craftily. "You aren't plump enough to be sensitiveabout it. Why, you're just right. " There was something very boyish abouthis manner, as he caught at the girl's arm. A memory of the days whenshe had cuddled him caused him to speak warmly, forgetting the presenceof his father. "Now, don't be angry, Sadie. Just give me a little kiss, as you used to do. " He swept her into his arms, and his lips met hersin a hearty caress. "There!" he cried. "Just to show there's no illfeeling. "

The girl was completely mollified, though in much embarrassment. 

"Why, Mr. Dick!" she stammered, in confusion. "Why, Mr. Dick!"

Gilder, who had watched the scene in great astonishment, now interposedto end it. 

"Stop, Dick!" he commanded, crisply. "You are actually making Sarahblush. I think that's about enough, son. "

But a sudden unaccustomed gust of affection swirled in the breast ofthe lad. Plain Anglo-Saxon as he was, with all that implies as to theavoidance of displays of emotion, nevertheless he had been for along time in lands far from home, where the habits of impulsive andaffectionate peoples were radically unlike our own austerer forms. Sonow, under the spur of an impulse suggested by the dalliance with thebuxom secretary, he grinned widely and went to his father. 

"A little kiss never hurts any one, " he declared, blithely. Then headded vivaciously: "Here, I'll show you!"

With the words, he clasped his arms around his father's neck, and, before that amazed gentleman could understand his purpose, he had kissedsoundly first the one cheek and then the other, each with a hearty, wholesome smack of filial piety. This done, he stood back, still beaminghappily, while the astounded Sarah tittered bewilderedly. For his ownpart, Dick was quite unashamed. He loved his father. For once, he hadexpressed that fondness in a primitive fashion, and he was glad. 

The older man withdrew a step, and there rested motionless, under thesway of an emotion akin to dismay. He stood staring intently at his sonwith a perplexity in his expression that was almost ludicrous. When, atlast, he spoke, his voice was a rumble of strangely shy pleasure. 

"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, violently. Then he raised a hand, andrubbed first one cheek, and after it its fellow, with a gentleness thatwas significant. The feeling provoked by the embrace showed plainly inhis next words. "Why, that's the first time you have kissed me, Dick, since you were a little boy. God bless my soul!" he repeated. And nowthere was a note of jubilation. 

The son, somewhat disturbed by this emotion he had aroused, neverthelessanswered frankly with the expression of his own feeling, as he advancedand laid a hand on his father's shoulder. 

"The fact is, Dad, " he said quietly, with a smile that was good to see, "I am awfully glad to see you again. "

"Are you, son?" the father cried happily. Then, abruptly his mannerchanged, for he felt himself perilously close to the maudlin in this newyielding to sentimentality. Such kisses of tenderness, however agreeablein themselves, were hardly fitting to one of his dignity. "You clear outof here, boy, " he commanded, brusquely. "I'm a working man. But here, wait a minute, " he added. He brought forth from a pocket a neat sheaf ofbanknotes, which he held out. "There's carfare for you, " he said with achuckle. "And now clear out. I'll see you at dinner. "

Dick bestowed the money in his pocket, and again turned toward the door. 

"You can always get rid of me on the same terms, " he remarked slyly. Andthen the young man gave evidence that he, too, had some of his father'sability in things financial. For, in the doorway he turned with a finalspeech, which was uttered in splendid disregard for the packet of moneyhe had just received--perhaps, rather, in a splendid regard for it. "Oh, Dad, please don't forget to give Sadie that five dollars I borrowed fromher for the taxi'. " And with that impertinent reminder he was gone. 

The owner of the store returned to his labors with a new zest, for themeeting with his son had put him in high spirits. Perhaps it might havebeen better for Mary Turner had she come to him just then, while hewas yet in this softened mood. But fate had ordained that other eventsshould restore him to his usual harder self before their interview. Theeffect was, indeed, presently accomplished by the advent of Smithsoninto the office. He entered with an expression of discomfiture on hisrather vacuous countenance. He walked almost nimbly to the desk andspoke with evident distress, as his employer looked up interrogatively. 

"McCracken has detained--er--a--lady, sir, " he said, feebly. "She hasbeen searched, and we have found about a hundred dollars worth of laceson her. "

"Well?" Gilder demanded, impatiently. Such affairs were too common inthe store to make necessary this intrusion of the matter on him. "Whydid you come to me about it?" His staff knew just what to do withshoplifters. 

At once, Smithson became apologetic, while refusing to retreat. 

"I'm very sorry, sir, " he said haltingly, "but I thought it wiser, sir, to--er--to bring the matter to your personal attention. "

"Quite unnecessary, Smithson, " Gilder returned, with asperity. "You knowmy views on the subject of property. Tell McCracken to have the thiefarrested. "

Smithson cleared his throat doubtfully, and in his stress of feelinghe even relaxed a trifle that majestical erectness of carriage that hadmade him so valuable as a floor-walker. 

"She's not exactly a--er--a thief, " he ventured. 

"You are trifling, Smithson, " the owner of the store exclaimed, in highexasperation. "Not a thief! And you caught her with a hundred dollarsworth of laces that she hadn't bought. Not a thief! What in heaven'sname do you call her, then?"

"A kleptomaniac, " Smithson explained, retaining his manner of mildinsistence. "You see, sir, it's this way. The lady happens to be thewife of J. W. Gaskell, the banker, you know. "

Yes, Gilder did know. The mention of the name was like a spell in theeffect it wrought on the attitude of the irritated owner of the store. Instantly, his expression changed. While before his features had beenset grimly, while his eyes had flashed wrathfully, there was now onlyannoyance over an event markedly unfortunate. 

"How extremely awkward!" he cried; and there was a very real concernin his voice. He regarded Smithson kindly, whereat that rather pulinggentleman once again assumed his martial bearing. "You were quiteright in coming to me. " For a moment he was silent, plunged in thought. Finally he spoke with the decisiveness characteristic of him. "Ofcourse, there's nothing we can do. Just put the stuff back on thecounter, and let her go. "

But Smithson had not yet wholly unburdened himself. Instead ofimmediately leaving the room in pursuance of the succinct instructionsgiven him, he again cleared his throat nervously, and made known afurther aggravating factor in the situation. 

"She's very angry, Mr. Gilder, " he announced, timidly. "She--er--shedemands an--er--an apology. "

The owner of the store half-rose from his chair, then threw himself backwith an exclamation of disgust. He again ejaculated the words with whichhe had greeted his son's unexpected kisses, but now there was a vastdifference in the intonation. 

"God bless my soul!" he cried. From his expression, it was clear that apious aspiration was farthest from his thought. On the contrary! Again, he fell silent, considering the situation which Smithson had presented, and, as he reflected, his frown betrayed the emotion natural enoughunder the circumstances. At last, however, he mastered his irritation tosome degree, and spoke his command briefly. "Well, Smithson, apologizeto her. It can't be helped. " Then his face lighted with a sardonicamusement. "And, Smithson, " he went on with a sort of elephantineplayfulness, "I shall take it as a personal favor if you will tactfullyadvise the lady that the goods at Altman and Stern's are really evenfiner than ours. "

When Smithson had left the office, Gilder turned to his secretary. 

"Take this, " he directed, and he forthwith dictated the following letterto the husband of the lady who was not a thief, as Smithson had sopainstakingly pointed out:

"J. W. GASKELL, ESQ. , "Central National Bank, New York. 

"MY DEAR Mr. GASKELL: I feel that I should be doing less than my duty asa man if I did not let you know at once that Mrs. Gaskell is in urgentneed of medical attention. She came into our store to-day, and----"

He paused for a moment. "No, put it this way, " he said finally:

"We found her wandering about our store to-day in a very nervouscondition. In her excitement, she carried away about one hundreddollars' worth of rare laces. Not recognizing her, our store detectivedetained her for a short time. Fortunately for us all, Mrs. Gaskell wasable to explain who she was, and she has just gone to her home. Hopingfor Mrs. Gaskell's speedy recovery, and with all good wishes, I am, "Yours very truly. "

Yet, though he had completed the letter, Gilder did not at once take upanother detail of his business. Instead, he remained plunged in thought, and now his frown was one of simple bewilderment. A number of minutespassed before he spoke, and then his words revealed distinctly what hadbeen his train of meditation. 

"Sadie, " he said in a voice of entire sincerity, "I can't understandtheft. It's a thing absolutely beyond my comprehension. "

On the heels of this ingenuous declaration, Smithson entered the office, and that excellent gentleman appeared even more perturbed than before. 

"What on earth is the matter now?" Gilder spluttered, suspiciously. 

"It's Mrs. Gaskell still, " Smithson replied in great trepidation. "Shewants you personally, Mr. Gilder, to apologize to her. She says that theaction taken against her is an outrage, and she is not satisfied withthe apologies of all the rest of us. She says you must make one, too, and that the store detective must be discharged for intolerableinsolence. "

Gilder bounced up from his chair angrily. 

"I'll be damned if I'll discharge McCracken, " he vociferated, glaring onSmithson, who shrank visibly. 

But that mild and meek man had a certain strength of pertinacity. Besides, in this case, he had been having multitudinous troubles ofhis own, which could be ended only by his employer's placating of theoffended kleptomaniac. 

"But about the apology, Mr. Gilder, " he reminded, speaking verydeferentially, yet with insistence. 

Business instinct triumphed over the magnate's irritation, and his facecleared. 

"Oh, I'll apologize, " he said with a wry smile of discomfiture. "I'llmake things even up a bit when I get an apology from Gaskell. I shrewdlysuspect that that estimable gentleman is going to eat humble pie, of mybaking, from his wife's recipe. And his will be an honest apology--whichmine won't, not by a damned sight!" With the words, he left the room, inhis wake a hugely relieved Smithson. 

Alone in the office, Sarah neglected her work for a few minutes to broodover the startling contrast of events that had just forced itself on herattention. She was not a girl given to the analysis of either persons orthings, but in this instance the movement of affairs had come close toher, and she was compelled to some depth of feeling by the two aspectsof life on which to-day she looked. In the one case, as she knew it, agirl under the urge of poverty had stolen. That thief had been promptlyarrested, finally she had been tried, had been convicted, had beensentenced to three years in prison. In the other case, a woman of wealthhad stolen. There had been no punishment. A euphemism of kleptomania hadbeen offered and accepted as sufficient excuse for her crime. A politelie had been written to her husband, a banker of power in the city. Toher, the proprietor of the store was even now apologizing in courteousphrases of regret.... And Mary Turner had been sentenced to three yearsin prison. Sadie shook her head in dolorous doubt, as she again bentover the keys of her typewriter. Certainly, some happenings in thisworld of ours did not seem quite fair. 

CHAPTER V. THE VICTIM OF THE LAW. 

It was on this same day that Sarah, on one of her numerous trips throughthe store in behalf of Gilder, was accosted by a salesgirl, whose name, Helen Morris, she chanced to know. It was in a spot somewhere out ofthe crowd, so that for the moment the two were practically alone. The salesgirl showed signs of embarrassment as she ventured to lay adetaining hand on Sarah's arm, but she maintained her position, despitethe secretary's manner of disapproval. 

"What on earth do you want?" Sarah inquired, snappishly. 

The salesgirl put her question at once. 

"What did they do to Mary Turner?"

"Oh, that!" the secretary exclaimed, with increased impatience overthe delay, for she was very busy, as always. "You will all know soonenough. "

"Tell me now. " The voice of the girl was singularly compelling; therewas something vividly impressive about her just now, though her pallid, prematurely mature face and the thin figure in the regulation blackdress and white apron showed ordinarily only insignificant. "Tell menow, " she repeated, with a monotonous emphasis that somehow moved Sarahto obedience against her will, greatly to her own surprise. 

"They sent her to prison for three years, " she answered, sharply. 

"Three years?" The salesgirl had repeated the words in a tone that wasindefinable, yet a tone vehement in its incredulous questioning. "Threeyears?" she said again, as one refusing to believe. 

"Yes, " Sarah said, impressed by the girl's earnestness; "three years. "

"Good God!" There was no irreverence in the exclamation that broke fromthe girl's lips. Instead, only a tense horror that touched to the rootsof emotion. 

Sarah regarded this display of feeling on the part of the young womanbefore her with an increasing astonishment. It was not in her own natureto be demonstrative, and such strong expression of emotion as this shedeemed rather suspicious. She recalled, in addition, the fact that hiswas not the first time that Helen Morris had shown a particular interestin the fate of Mary Turner. Sarah wondered why. 

"Say, " she demanded, with the directness habitual to her, "why are youso anxious about it? This is the third time you have asked me about MaryTurner. What's it to you, I'd like to know?"

The salesgirl started violently, and a deep flush drove the accustomedpallor from her cheeks. She was obviously much disturbed by thequestion. 

"What is it to me?" she repeated in an effort to gain time. "Why, nothing--nothing at all!" Her expression of distress lightened a littleas she hit on an excuse that might serve to justify her interest. "Nothing at all, only--she's a friend of mine, a great friend of mine. Oh, yes!" Then, in an instant, the look of relief vanished, as onceagain the terrible reality hammered on her consciousness, and anoverwhelming dejection showed in the dull eyes and in the droopingcurves of the white lips. There was a monotone of desolation as shewent on speaking in a whisper meant for the ears of no other. "It'sawful--three years! Oh, I didn't understand! It's awful!--awful!" Withthe final word, she hurried off, her head bowed. She was still murmuringbrokenly, incoherently. Her whole attitude was of wondering grief. 

Sarah stared after the girl in complete mystification. She could not atfirst guess any possible cause for an emotion so poignant. Presently, however, her shrewd, though very prosaic, commonsense suggested a simpleexplanation of the girl's extraordinary distress. 

"I'll bet that girl has been tempted to steal. But she didn't, becauseshe was afraid. " With this satisfactory conclusion of her wonderment, the secretary hurried on her way, quite content. It never occurred toher that the girl might have been tempted to steal--and had not resistedthe temptation. 

It was on account of this brief conversation with the salesgirl thatSarah was thinking intently of Mary Turner, after her return to theoffice, from which Gilder himself happened to be absent for the moment. As the secretary glanced up at the opening of the door, she did not atfirst recognize the figure outlined there. She remembered Mary Turneras a tall, slender girl, who showed an underlying vitality in everymovement, a girl with a face of regular features, in which was acomplexion of blended milk and roses, with a radiant joy of life shiningthrough all her arduous and vulgar conditions. Instead of this, now, shesaw a frail form that stood swaying in the opening of the doorway, thatbent in a sinister fashion which told of bodily impotence, while theface was quite bloodless. And, too, there was over all else a pall ofhelplessness--helplessness that had endured much, and must still endureinfinitely more. 

As a reinforcement of the dread import of that figure of wo, a man stoodbeside it, and one of his hands was clasped around the girl's wrist, aman who wore his derby hat somewhat far back on his bullet-shaped head, whose feet were conspicuous in shoes with very heavy soles and verysquare toes. 

It was the man who now took charge of the situation. Cassidy, fromHeadquarters, spoke in a rough, indifferent voice, well suited to hisappearance of stolid strength. 

"The District Attorney told me to bring this girl here on my way to theGrand Central Station with her. "

Sarah got to her feet mechanically. Somehow, from the raucous notes ofthe policeman's voice, she understood in a flash of illumination thatthe pitiful figure there in the doorway was that of Mary Turner, whomshe had remembered so different, so frightfully different. She spokewith a miserable effort toward her usual liveliness. 

"Mr. Gilder will be right back. Come in and wait. " She wished to saysomething more, something of welcome or of mourning, to the girl there, but she found herself incapable of a single word for the moment, andcould only stand dumb while the man stepped forward, with his chargefollowing helplessly in his clutch. 

The two went forward very slowly, the officer, carelessly conscious ofhis duty, walking with awkward steps to suit the feeble movements of thegirl, the girl letting herself be dragged onward, aware of the futilityof any resistance to the inexorable power that now had her in itsgrip, of which the man was the present agent. As the pair came thusfalteringly into the center of the room, Sarah at last found her voicefor an expression of sympathy. 

"I'm sorry, Mary, " she said, hesitatingly. "I'm terribly sorry, terriblysorry!"

The girl, who had halted when the officer halted, as a matter of course, did not look up. She stood still, swaying a little as if from weakness. Her voice was lifeless. 

"Are you?" she said. "I did not know. Nobody has been near me the wholetime I have been in the Tombs. " There was infinite pathos in the tonesas she repeated the words so fraught with dreadfulness. "Nobody has beennear me!"

The secretary felt a sudden glow of shame. She realized the justice ofthat unconscious accusation, for, till to-day, she had had no thought ofthe suffering girl there in the prison. To assuage remorse, she soughtto give evidence as to a prevalent sympathy. 

"Why, " she exclaimed, "there was Helen Morris to-day! She has beenasking about you again and again. She's all broken up over yourtrouble. "

But the effort on the secretary's part was wholly without success. 

"Who is Helen Morris?" the lifeless voice demanded. There was nointerest in the question. 

Sarah experienced a momentary astonishment, for she was stillremembering the feverish excitement displayed by the salesgirl, who haddeclared herself to be a most intimate friend of the convict. But themystery was to remain unsolved, since Gilder now entered the office. Hewalked with the quick, bustling activity that was ordinarily expressedin his every movement. He paused for an instant, as he beheld thetwo visitors in the center of the room, then he spoke curtly to thesecretary, while crossing to his chair at the desk. 

"You may go, Sarah. I will ring when I wish you again. "

There followed an interval of silence, while the secretary was leavingthe office and the girl with her warder stood waiting on his pleasure. Gilder cleared his throat twice in an embarrassment foreign to him, before finally he spoke to the girl. At last, the proprietor ofthe store expressed himself in a voice of genuine sympathy, for thespectacle of wo presented there before his very eyes moved him to a realdistress, since it was indeed actual, something that did not depend onan appreciation to be developed out of imagination. 

"My girl, " Gilder said gently--his hard voice was softened by an honestregret--"my girl, I am sorry about this. "

"You should be!" came the instant answer. Yet, the words were utteredwith a total lack of emotion. It seemed from their intonation thatthe speaker voiced merely a statement concerning a recondite matter oftruth, with which sentiment had nothing whatever to do. But the effecton the employer was unfortunate. It aroused at once his antagonismagainst the girl. His instinct of sympathy with which he had greetedher at the outset was repelled, and made of no avail. Worse, it wastransformed into an emotion hostile to the one who thus offended him byrejection of the well-meant kindliness of his address

"Come, come!" he exclaimed, testily. "That's no tone to take with me. "

"Why? What sort of tone do you expect me to take?" was the retort inthe listless voice. Yet, now, in the dullness ran a faint suggestion ofsomething sinister. 

"I expected a decent amount of humility from one in your position, " wasthe tart rejoinder of the magnate. 

Life quickened swiftly in the drooping form of the girl. Her musclestensed. She stood suddenly erect, in the vigor of her youth again. Herface lost in the same second its bleakness of pallor. The eyes openedwidely, with startling abruptness, and looked straight into those of theman who had employed her. 

"Would you be humble, " she demanded, and now her voice was become softlymusical, yet forbidding, too, with a note of passion, "would you behumble if you were going to prison for three years--for something youdidn't do?"

There was anguish in the cry torn from the girl's throat in the suddenaccess of despair. The words thrilled Gilder beyond anything that hehad supposed possible in such case. He found himself in this emergencytotally at a loss, and moved in his chair doubtfully, wishing to saysomething, and quite unable. He was still seeking some question, somecriticism, some rebuke, when he was unfeignedly relieved to hear thepoliceman's harsh voice. 

"Don't mind her, sir, " Cassidy said. He meant to make his manner veryreassuring. "They all say that. They are innocent, of course! Yep--theyall say it. It don't do 'em any good, but just the same they all swearthey're innocent. They keep it up to the very last, no matter how rightthey've been got. "

The voice of the girl rang clear. There was a note of insistencethat carried a curious dignity of its own. The very simplicity of herstatement might have had a power to convince one who listened withoutprejudice, although the words themselves were of the trite sort that anyprotesting criminal might utter. 

"I tell you, I didn't do it!"

Gilder himself felt the surge of emotion that swung through thesemoments, but he would not yield to it. With his lack of imagination, he could not interpret what this time must mean to the girl before him. Rather, he merely deemed it his duty to carry through this unfortunateaffair with a scrupulous attention to detail, in the fashion that hadalways been characteristic of him during the years in which he hadsteadily mounted from the bottom to the top. 

"What's the use of all this pretense?" he demanded, sharply. "You weregiven a fair trial, and there's an end of it. "

The girl, standing there so feebly, seeming indeed to cling for supportto the man who always held her thus closely by the wrist, spoke againwith an astonishing clearness, even with a sort of vivacity, as if sheexplained easily something otherwise in doubt. 

"Oh, no, I wasn't!" she contradicted bluntly, with a singular confidenceof assertion. "Why, if the trial had been fair, I shouldn't be here. "

The harsh voice of Cassidy again broke in on the passion of the girlwith a professional sneer. 

"That's another thing they all say. "

But the girl went on speaking fiercely, impervious to the man's coarsesarcasm, her eyes, which had deepened almost to purple, still fixedpiercingly on Gilder, who, for some reason wholly inexplicable to him, felt himself strangely disturbed under that regard. 

"Do you call it fair when the lawyer I had was only a boy--one whom thecourt told me to take, a boy trying his first case--my case, thatmeant the ruin of my life? My lawyer! Why, he was just gettingexperience--getting it at my expense!" The girl paused as if exhaustedby the vehemence of her emotion, and at last the sparkling eyes droopedand the heavy lids closed over them. She swayed a little, so that theofficer tightened his clasp on her wrist. 

There followed a few seconds of silence. Then Gilder made an effort toshake off the feeling that had so possessed him, and to a certain degreehe succeeded. 

"The jury found you guilty, " he asserted, with an attempt to make hisvoice magisterial in its severity. 

Instantly, Mary was aroused to a new outburst of protest. Once again, her eyes shot their fires at the man seated behind the desk, and shewent forward a step imperiously, dragging the officer in her wake. 

"Yes, the jury found me guilty, " she agreed, with fine scorn in themusical cadences of her voice. "Do you know why? I can tell you, Mr. Gilder. It was because they had been out for three hours withoutreaching a decision. The evidence didn't seem to be quite enough forsome of them, after all. Well, the judge threatened to lock them up allnight. The men wanted to get home. The easy thing to do was to find meguilty, and let it go at that. Was that fair, do you think? And that'snot all, either. Was it fair of you, Mr. Gilder? Was it fair of you tocome to the court this morning, and tell the judge that I should be sentto prison as a warning to others?"

A quick flush burned on the massive face of the man whom she thusaccused, and his eyes refused to meet her steady gaze of reproach. 

"You know!" he exclaimed, in momentary consternation. Again, her moodhad affected his own, so that through a few hurrying seconds he felthimself somehow guilty of wrong against this girl, so frank and sorebuking. 

"I heard you in the courtroom, " she said. "The dock isn't very far fromthe bench where you spoke to the judge about my case. Yes, I heard you. It wasn't: Did I do it? Or, didn't I do it? No; it was only that I mustbe made a warning to others. "

Again, silence fell for a tense interval. Then, finally, the girl spokein a different tone. Where before her voice had been vibrant with theinstinct of complaint against the mockery of justice under which shesuffered, now there was a deeper note, that of most solemn truth. 

"Mr. Gilder, " she said simply, "as God is my judge, I am going to prisonfor three years for something I didn't do. "

But the sincerity of her broken cry fell on unheeding ears. The coarsenature of the officer had long ago lost whatever elements of softnessthere might have been to develop in a gentler occupation. As for theowner of the store, he was not sufficiently sensitive to feel the verityin the accents of the speaker. Moreover, he was a man who followed theconventional, with never a distraction due to imagination and sympathy. Just now, too, he was experiencing a keen irritation against himselfbecause of the manner in which he had been sensible to the influenceof her protestation, despite his will to the contrary. That irritationagainst himself only reacted against the girl, and caused him tosteel his heart to resist any tendency toward commiseration. So, thisdeclaration of innocence was made quite in vain--indeed, served ratherto strengthen his disfavor toward the complainant, and to make hismanner harsher when she voiced the pitiful question over which she hadwondered and grieved. 

"Why did you ask the judge to send me to prison?"

"The thieving that has been going on in this store for over a year hasgot to stop, " Gilder answered emphatically, with all his usual energyof manner restored. As he spoke, he raised his eyes and met the girl'sglance fairly. Thought of the robberies was quite enough to make himpitiless toward the offender. 

"Sending me to prison won't stop it, " Mary Turner said, drearily. 

"Perhaps not, " Gilder sternly retorted. "But the discovery andpunishment of the other guilty ones will. " His manner changed to abusiness-like alertness. "You sent word to me that you could tell me howto stop the thefts in the store. Well, my girl, do this, and, while Ican make no definite promise, I'll see what can be done about gettingyou out of your present difficulty. " He picked up a pencil, pulled apad of blank paper convenient to his hand, and looked at the girlexpectantly, with aggressive inquiry in his gaze. "Tell me now, " heconcluded, "who were your pals?"

The matter-of-fact manner of this man who had unwittingly wronged her sofrightfully was the last straw on the girl's burden of suffering. Underit, her patient endurance broke, and she cried out in a voice of utterdespair that caused Gilder to start nervously, and even impelled thestolid officer to a frown of remonstrance. 

"I have no pals!" she ejaculated, furiously. "I never stole anything inmy life. Must I go on telling you over and over again?" Her voice rosein a wail of misery. "Oh, why won't any one believe me?"

Gilder was much offended by this display of an hysterical grief, whichseemed to his phlegmatic temperament altogether unwarranted by thecircumstances. He spoke decisively. 

"Unless you can control yourself, you must go. " He pushed away the padof paper, and tossed the pencil aside in physical expression of hisdispleasure. "Why did you send that message, if you have nothing tosay?" he demanded, with increasing choler. 

But now the girl had regained her former poise. She stood a littledrooping and shaken, where for a moment she had been erect and tensed. There was a vast weariness in her words as she answered. 

"I have something to tell you, Mr. Gilder, " she said, quietly. "Only, I--I sort of lost my grip on the way here, with this man by my side. "

"Most of 'em do, the first time, " the officer commented, with a certaingrim appreciation. 

"Well?" Gilder insisted querulously, as the girl hesitated. 

At once, Mary went on speaking, and now a little increase of vigortrembled in her tones. 

"When you sit in a cell for three months waiting for your trial, as Idid, you think a lot. And, so, I got the idea that if I could talk toyou, I might be able to make you understand what's really wrong. And ifI could do that, and so help out the other girls, what has happened tome would not, after all, be quite so awful--so useless, somehow. " Hervoice lowered to a quick pleading, and she bent toward the man at thedesk. "Mr. Gilder, " she questioned, "do you really want to stop thegirls from stealing?"

"Most certainly I do, " came the forcible reply. 

The girl spoke with a great earnestness, deliberately. 

"Then, give them a fair chance. "

The magnate stared in sincere astonishment over this absurd, this futilesuggestion for his guidance. 

"What do you mean?" he vociferated, with rising indignation. There wasan added hostility in his demeanor, for it seemed to him that this thiefof his goods whom he had brought to justice was daring to trifle withhim. He grew wrathful over the suspicion, but a secret curiosity stillheld his temper within bounds "What do you mean?" he repeated; and nowthe full force of his strong voice set the room trembling. 

The tones of the girl came softly musical, made more delicately resonantto the ear by contrast with the man's roaring. 

"Why, " she said, very gently, "I mean just this: Give them a livingchance to be honest. "

"A living chance!" The two words were exploded with dynamic violence. The preposterousness of the advice fired Gilder with resentment sopervasive that through many seconds he found himself unable to expressthe rage that flamed within him. 

The girl showed herself undismayed by his anger. 

"Yes, " she went on, quietly; "that's all there is to it. Give them aliving chance to get enough food to eat, and a decent room to sleep in, and shoes that will keep their feet off the pavement winter mornings. Doyou think that any girl wants to steal? Do you think that any girl wantsto risk----?"

By this time, however, Gilder had regained his powers of speech, and heinterrupted stormily. 

"And is this what you have taken up my time for? You want to make amaudlin plea for guilty, dishonest girls, when I thought you reallymeant to bring me facts. "

Nevertheless, Mary went on with her arraignment uncompromisingly. Therewas a strange, compelling energy in her inflections that penetrated eventhe pachydermatous officer, so that, though he thought her raving, helet her rave on, which was not at all his habit of conduct, and didindeed surprise him mightily. As for Gilder, he felt helpless in somepuzzling fashion that was totally foreign to his ordinary self. He wasstill glowing with wrath over the method by which he had been victimizedinto giving the girl a hearing. Yet, despite his chagrin, he realizedthat he could not send her from him forthwith. By some inexplicablespell she bound him impotent. 

"We work nine hours a day, " the quiet voice went on, a curious pathosin the rich timbre of it; "nine hours a day, for six days in the week. That's a fact, isn't it? And the trouble is, an honest girl can't liveon six dollars a week. She can't do it, and buy food and clothes, andpay room-rent and carfare. That's another fact, isn't it?"

Mary regarded the owner of the store with grave questioning in herviolet eyes. Under the urgency of emotion, color crept into the pallidcheeks, and now her face was very beautiful--so beautiful, indeed, thatfor a little the charm of its loveliness caught the man's gaze, and hewatched her with a new respect, born of appreciation for her femininedelightfulness. The impression was far too brief. Gilder was not givento esthetic raptures over women. Always, the business instinct was thedominant. So, after the short period of amazed admiration over suchunexpected winsomeness, his thoughts flew back angrily to the matterswhereof she spoke so ridiculously. 

"I don't care to discuss these things, " he declared peremptorily, as thegirl remained silent for a moment. 

"And I have no wish to discuss anything, " Mary returned evenly. "Ionly want to give you what you asked for--facts. " A faint smile ofreminiscence curved the girl's lips. "When they first locked me up, " sheexplained, without any particular evidence of emotion, "I used to sitand hate you. "

"Oh, of course!" came the caustic exclamation from Gilder. 

"And then, I thought that perhaps you did not understand, " Marycontinued; "that, if I were to tell you how things really are, it mightbe you would change them somehow. "

At this ingenuous statement, the owner of the store gave forth a gasp ofsheer stupefaction. 

"I!" he cried, incredulously. "I change my business policy because youask me to!"

There was something imperturbable in the quality of the voice as thegirl went resolutely forward with her explanation. It was as if shewere discharging a duty not to be gainsaid, not to be thwarted byany difficulty, not even the realization that all the effort must beultimately in vain. 

"Do you know how we girls live?--but, of course, you don't. Three of usin one room, doing our own cooking over the two-burner gas-stove, andour own washing and ironing evenings, after being on our feet for ninehours. "

The enumeration of the sordid details left the employer absolutelyunmoved, since he lacked the imagination necessary to sympathizeactually with the straining evil of a life such as the girl had known. Indeed, he spoke with an air of just remonstrance, as if the girl'scharges were mischievously faulty. 

"I have provided chairs behind the counters, " he stated. 

There was no especial change in the girl's voice as she answered hisdefense. It continued musically low, but there was in it the insistentnote of sincerity. 

"But have you ever seen a girl sitting in one of them?" she questioned, coldly. "Please answer me. Have you? Of course not, " she said, after alittle pause during which the owner had remained silent. She shookher head in emphatic negation. "And do you understand why? It's simplybecause every girl knows that the manager of her department would thinkhe could get along without her, if he were to see her sitting down----loafing, you know! So, she would be discharged. All it amounts tois that, after being on her feet for nine hours, the girl usually walkshome, in order to save carfare. Yes, she walks, whether sick or well. Anyhow, you are generally so tired, it don't make much difference whichyou are. "

Gilder was fuming under these strictures, which seemed to him altogetherbaseless attacks on himself. His exasperation steadily waxed against thegirl, a convicted felon, who thus had the audacity to beard him. 

"What has all this to do with the question of theft in the store?"he rumbled, huffily. "That was the excuse for your coming here. And, instead of telling me something, you rant about gas-stoves and carfare. "

The inexorable voice went on in its monotone, as if he had not spoken. 

"And, when you are really sick, and have to stop work, what are yougoing to do then? Do you know, Mr. Gilder, that the first time astraight girl steals, it's often because she had to have a doctor--orsome luxury like that? And some of them do worse than steal. Yes, theydo--girls that started straight, and wanted to stay that way. But, ofcourse, some of them get so tired of the whole grind that--that----"

The man who was the employer of hundreds concerning whom these grimtruths were uttered, stirred uneasily in his chair, and there came atouch of color into the healthy brown of his cheeks as he spoke hisprotest. 

"I'm not their guardian. I can't watch over them after they leave thestore. They are paid the current rate of wages--as much as any otherstore pays. " As he spoke, the anger provoked by this unexpectedassault on him out of the mouth of a convict flamed high in virtuousrepudiation. "Why, " he went on vehemently, "no man living does morefor his employees than I do. Who gave the girls their fine rest-roomsupstairs? I did! Who gave them the cheap lunch-rooms? I did!"

"But you won't pay them enough to live on!" The very fact that the wordswere spoken without any trace of rancor merely made this statement ofindisputable truth obnoxious to the man, who was stung to more savageresentment in asserting his impugned self-righteousness. 

"I pay them the same as the other stores do, " he repeated, sullenly. 

Yet once again, the gently cadenced voice gave answer, an answerinformed with that repulsive insistence to the man who sought to resisther indictment of him. 

"But you won't pay them enough to live on. " The simple lucidity of thecharge forbade direct reply. 

Gilder betook himself to evasion by harking back to the establishedground of complaint. 

"And, so, you claim that you were forced to steal. That's the plea youmake for yourself and your friends. "

"I wasn't forced to steal, " came the answer, spoken in the monotone thathad marked her utterance throughout most of the interview. "I wasn'tforced to steal, and I didn't steal. But, all the same, that's the plea, as you call it, that I'm making for the other girls. There are hundredsof them who steal because they don't get enough to eat. I said I wouldtell you how to stop the stealing. Well, I have done it. Give the girlsa fair chance to be honest. You asked me for the names, Mr. Gilder. There's only one name on which to put the blame for the wholebusiness--and that name is Edward Gilder!... Now, won't you do somethingabout it?"

At that naked question, the owner of the store jumped up from hischair, and stood glowering at the girl who risked a request so full ofvituperation against himself. 

"How dare you speak to me like this?" he thundered. 

There was no disconcertion exhibited by the one thus challenged. On thecontrary, she repeated her question with a simple dignity that stillfurther outraged the man. 

"Won't you, please, do something about it?"

"How dare you?" he shouted again. Now, there was stark wonder in hiseyes as he put the question. 

"Why, I dared, " Mary Turner explained, "because you have done all theharm you can to me. And, now, I'm trying to give you the chance to dobetter by the others. You ask me why I dare. I have a right to dare!I have been straight all my life. I have wanted decent food and warmclothes, and--a little happiness, all the time I have worked for you, and I have gone without those things, just to stay straight.... The endof it all is: You are sending me to prison for something I didn't do. That's why I dare!"

Cassidy, the officer in charge of Mary Turner, had stood patientlybeside her all this while, always holding her by the wrist. He hadbeen mildly interested in the verbal duel between the big man of thedepartment store and this convict in his own keeping. Vaguely, he hadmarveled at the success of the frail girl in declaiming of her injuriesbefore the magnate. He had felt no particular interest beyond that, merely looking on as one might at any entertaining spectacle. Thequestion at issue was no concern of his. His sole business was to takethe girl away when the interview should be ended. It occurred to him nowthat this might, in fact, be the time to depart. It seemed, indeed, thatthe insistent reiteration of the girl had at last left he owner of thestore quite powerless to answer. It was possible, then, that it werewiser the girl should be removed. With the idea in mind, he staredinquiringly at Gilder until he caught that flustered gentleman's eye. A nod from the magnate sufficed him. Gilder, in truth, could not trusthimself just then to an audible command. He was seriously disturbed bythe gently spoken truths that had issued from the girl's lips. He wasnot prepared with any answer, though he hotly resented every word ofher accusation. So, when he caught the question in the glance ofthe officer, he felt a guilty sensation of relief as he signified anaffirmative by his gesture. 

Cassidy faced about, and in his movement there was a tug at the wristof the girl that set her moving toward the door. Her realization of whatthis meant was shown in her final speech. 

"Oh, he can take me now, " she said, bitterly. Then her voice rose abovethe monotone that had contented her hitherto. Into the music of hertones beat something sinister, evilly vindictive, as she faced about atthe doorway to which Cassidy had led her. Her face, as she scrutinizedonce again the man at the desk, was coldly malignant. 

"Three years isn't forever, " she said, in a level voice. "When I comeout, you are going to pay for every minute of them, Mr. Gilder. Therewon't be a day or an hour that I won't remember that at the last it wasyour word sent me to prison. And you are going to pay me for that. Youare going to pay me for the five years I have starved making money foryou--that, too! You are going to pay me for all the things I am losingtoday, and----"

The girl thrust forth her left hand, on that side where stood theofficer. So vigorous was her movement that Cassidy's clasp was thrownoff the wrist. But the bond between the two was not broken, for fromwrist to wrist showed taut the steel chain of the manacles. The girlshook the links of the handcuffs in a gesture stronger than words. Inher final utterance to the agitated man at the desk, there was a coldthreat, a prophecy of disaster. From the symbol of her degradation, shelooked to the man whose action had placed it there. In the clashing oftheir glances, hers won the victory, so that his eyes fell before themenace in hers. 

"You are going to pay me for this!" she said. Her voice was little morethan a whisper, but it was loud in the listener's heart. "Yes, you aregoing to pay--for this!"

CHAPTER VI. INFERNO. 

They were grim years, those three during which Mary Turner served hersentence in Burnsing. There was no time off for good behavior. The girllearned soon that the favor of those set in authority over her couldonly be won at a cost against which her every maidenly instinctrevolted. So, she went through the inferno of days and nights in adreariness of suffering that was deadly. Naturally, the life there wasaltogether an evil thing. There was the material ill ever present inthe round of wearisome physical toil, the coarse, distasteful food, thehard, narrow couch, the constant, gnawing irksomeness of imprisonment, away from light and air, away from all that makes life worth while. 

Yet, these afflictions were not the worst injuries to mar the girlconvict's life. That which bore upon her most weightily and incessantlywas the degradation of this environment from which there was never anyrespite, the viciousness of this spot wherein she had been cast throughno fault of her own. Vileness was everywhere, visibly in the faces ofmany, and it was brimming from the souls of more, subtly hideous. Thegirl held herself rigidly from any personal intimacy with her fellows. To some extent, at least, she could separate herself from theircorruption in the matter of personal association. But, ever present, there was a secret energy of vice that could not be escaped sosimply--nor, indeed, by any device; that breathed in the spiritualatmosphere itself of the place. Always, this mysterious, invisible, yethorribly potent, power of sin was like a miasma throughout the prison. Always, it was striving to reach her soul, to make her of its own. Shefought the insidious, fetid force as best she might. She was not evilby nature. She had been well grounded in principles of righteousness. Nevertheless, though she maintained the integrity of her character, that character suffered from the taint. There developed over the girl'soriginal sensibility a shell of hardness, which in time would surelycome to make her less scrupulous in her reckoning of right and wrong. 

Yet, as a rule, character remains the same throughout life as to itsprime essentials, and, in this case, Mary Turner at the end of her termwas vitally almost as wholesome as on the day when she began the servingof the sentence. The change wrought in her was chiefly of an externalsort. The kindliness of her heart and her desire for the seemly joys oflife were unweakened. But over the better qualities of her naturewas now spread a crust of worldly hardness, a denial of appeal to hersensibilities. It was this that would eventually bring her perilouslyclose to contented companioning with crime. 

The best evidence of the fact that Mary Turner's soul was not fatallysoiled must be found in the fact that still, at the expiration of hersentence, she was fully resolved to live straight, as the saying iswhich she had quoted to Gilder. This, too, in the face of sure knowledgeas to the difficulties that would beset the effort, and in the face ofthe temptations offered to follow an easier path. 

There was, for example, Aggie Lynch, a fellow convict, with whom shehad a slight degree of acquaintance, nothing more. This young woman, acriminal by training, offered allurements of illegitimate employment inthe outer world when they should be free. Mary endured the companionshipwith this prisoner because a sixth sense proclaimed the fact that herewas one unmoral, rather than immoral--and the difference is mighty. Forthat reason, Aggie Lynch was not actively offensive, as were most of theothers. She was a dainty little blonde, with a baby face, in which wereset two light-blue eyes, of a sort to widen often in demure wonder overmost things in a surprising and naughty world. She had been convicted ofblackmail, and she made no pretense even of innocence. Instead, she wasinclined to boast over her ability to bamboozle men at her will. Shewas a natural actress of the ingenue role, and in that pose she couldunfailingly beguile the heart of the wisest of worldly men. 

Perhaps, the very keen student of physiognomy might have discoveredgrounds for suspecting her demureness by reason of the thick, levelbrows that cast a shadow on the bland innocence of her face. For therest, she possessed a knack of rather harmless perversity, a fairsmattering of grammar and spelling, and a lively sense of humor withinher own limitations, with a particularly small intelligence in otherdirections. Her one art was histrionics of the kind that made anindividual appeal. In such, she was inimitable. She had been reared in acriminal family, which must excuse much. Long ago, she had lost trackof her father; her mother she had never known. Her one relation was abrother of high standing as a pickpocket. One principal reason of hersuccess in leading on men to make fools of themselves over her, to theireverlasting regret afterward, lay in the fact that, in spite of all thegross irregularities of her life, she remained chaste. She deserved nocredit for such restraint, since it was a matter purely of temperament, not of resolve. 

The girl saw in Mary Turner the possibilities of a ladylike personalitythat might mean much financial profit in the devious ways of which shewas a mistress. With the frankness characteristic of her, she proceededto paint glowing pictures of a future shared to the undoing of ardentand fatuous swains. Mary Turner listened with curiosity, but she was inno wise moved to follow such a life, even though it did not necessitateanything worse than a fraudulent playing at love, without physicaldegradation. So, she steadfastly continued her refusals, to the greatastonishment of Aggie, who actually could not understand in the least, even while she believed the other's declaration of innocence of thecrime for which she was serving a sentence. But, for her own part, suchinnocence had nothing to do with the matter. Where, indeed, could bethe harm in making some old sinner pay a round price for his folly? Andalways, in response to every argument, Mary shook her head in negation. She would live straight. 

Then, the heavy brows of Aggie would draw down a little, and the babyface would harden. 

"You will find that you are up against a hell of a frost, " she woulddeclare, brutally. 

Mary found the profane prophecy true. Back in New York, she experienceda poverty more ravaging than any she had known in those five lean yearsof her working in the store. She had been absolutely penniless for twodays, and without food through the gnawing hours, when she at last foundemployment of the humblest in a milliner's shop. Followed a blessedinterval in which she worked contentedly, happy over the meager stipend, since it served to give her shelter and food honestly earned. 

But the ways of the police are not always those of ordinary decency. Indue time, an officer informed Mary's employer concerning the fact ofher record as a convict, and thereupon she was at once discharged. Theunfortunate victim of the law came perilously close to despair then. Yet, her spirit triumphed, and again she persevered in that resolveto live straight. Finally, for the second time, she secured a cheapposition in a cheap shop--only to be again persecuted by the police, sothat she speedily lost the place. 

Nevertheless, indomitable in her purpose, she maintained the struggle. A third time she obtained work, and there, after a little, she toldher employer, a candy manufacturer in a small way, the truth as to herhaving been in prison. The man had a kindly heart, and, in addition, he ran little risk in the matter, so he allowed her to remain. When, presently, the police called his attention to the girl's criminalrecord, he paid no heed to their advice against retaining her services. But such action on his part offended the greatness of the law's dignity. The police brought pressure to bear on the man. They even called in theassistance of Edward Gilder himself, who obligingly wrote a very severeletter to the girl's employer. In the end, such tactics alarmed theman. For the sake of his own interests, though unwillingly enough, hedismissed Mary from his service. 

It was then that despair did come upon the girl. She had tried with allthe strength of her to live straight. Yet, despite her innocence, the world would not let her live according to her own conscience. Itdemanded that she be the criminal it had branded her--if she were tolive at all. So, it was despair! For she would not turn to evil, andwithout such turning she could not live. She still walked the streetsfalteringly, seeking some place; but her heart was gone from the quest. Now, she was sunken in an apathy that saved her from the worst pangsof misery. She had suffered so much, so poignantly, that at last heremotions had grown sluggish. She did not mind much even when her tinyhoard of money was quite gone, and she roamed the city, starving.... Came an hour when she thought of the river, and was glad!

Mary remembered, with a wan smile, how, long ago, she had thought withamazed horror of suicide, unable to imagine any trouble sufficientto drive one to death as the only relief. Now, however, the thing wassimple to her. Since there was nothing else, she must turn to that--todeath. Indeed, it was so very simple, so final, and so easy, after theagonies she had endured, that she marveled over her own folly in nothaving sought such escape before.... Even with the first wild fancy, shehad unconsciously bent her steps westward toward the North River. Now, she quickened her pace, anxious for the plunge that should set the termto sorrow. In her numbed brain was no flicker of thought as to whatevermight come to her afterward. Her sole guide was that compellingpassion of desire to be done with this unbearable present. Nothing elsemattered--not in the least!

So, she came through the long stretch of ill-lighted streets, crossedsome railroad tracks to a pier, over which she hurried to the far end, where it projected out to the fiercer currents of the Hudson. There, without giving herself a moment's pause for reflection or hesitation, she leaped out as far as her strength permitted into the coil ofwaters.... But, in that final second, natural terror in the face ofdeath overcame the lethargy of despair--a shriek burst from her lips. 

But for that scream of fear, the story of Mary Turner had ended thereand then. Only one person was anywhere near to catch the sound. And thatsingle person heard. On the south side of the pier a man had just tiedup a motor-boat. He stood up in alarm at the cry, and was just in timeto gain a glimpse of a white face under the dim moonlight as it sweptdown with the tide, two rods beyond him. On the instant, he threw offhis coat and sprang far out after the drifting body. He came to it in afew furious strokes, caught it. Then began the savage struggle to saveher and himself. The currents tore at him wrathfully, but he foughtagainst them with all the fierceness of his nature. He had strengtha-plenty, but it needed all of it, and more, to win out of the river'shungry clutch. What saved the two of them was the violent temper of theman. Always, it had been the demon to set him aflame. To-night, therein the faint light, within the grip of the waters, he was moved toinsensate fury against the element that menaced. His rage mounted, andgave him new power in the battle. Maniacal strength grew out of supremewrath. Under the urge of it, he conquered--at last brought himself andhis charge to the shore. 

When, finally, the rescuer was able to do something more than gaspchokingly, he gave anxious attention to the woman whom he had broughtout from the river. Yet, at the outset, he could not be sure that shestill lived. She had shown no sign of life at any time since he hadfirst seized her. That fact had been of incalculable advantage to himin his efforts to reach the shore with her. Now, however, it alarmed himmightily, though it hardly seemed possible that she could have drowned. So far as he could determine, she: had not even sunk once beneath thesurface. Nevertheless, she displayed no evidence of vitality, thoughhe chafed her hands for a long time. The shore here was very lonely; itwould take precious time to summon aid. It seemed, notwithstanding, thatthis must be the only course. Then just as the man was about to leaveher, the girl sighed, very faintly, with an infinite weariness, andopened her eyes. The man echoed the sigh, but his was of joy, since nowhe knew that his strife in the girl's behalf had not been in vain. 

Afterward, the rescuer experienced no great difficulty in carryingout his work to a satisfactory conclusion. Mary revived to clearconsciousness, which was at first inclined toward hysteria, but thisphase yielded soon under the sympathetic ministrations of the man. Hisrather low voice was soothing to her tired soul, and his whole airwas at once masterful and gently tender. Moreover, there was aninexpressible balm to her spirit in the very fact that some one was thusministering to her. It was the first time for many dreadful years thatany one had taken thought for her welfare. The effect of it was like adraught of rarest wine to warm her heart. So, she rested obediently ashe busied himself with her complete restoration, and, when finally shewas able to stand, and to walk with the support of his arm, she wentforward slowly at his side without so much even as a question ofwhither. 

And, curiously, the man himself shared the gladness that touchedthe mood of the girl, for he experienced a sudden pride in hisaccomplishment of the night, a pride that delighted a starved part ofhis nature. Somewhere in him were the seeds of self-sacrifice, theseeds of a generous devotion to others. But those seeds had been leftundeveloped in a life that had been lived since early boyhood outsidethe pale of respectability. To-night, Joe Garson had performed, perhaps, his first action with no thought of self at the back of it. He hadrisked his life to save that of a stranger. The fact astonished him, while it pleased him hugely. The sensation was at once novel andthrilling. Since it was so agreeable, he meant to prolong the glow ofself-satisfaction by continuing to care for this waif of the river. Hemust make his rescue complete. It did not occur to him to question hisfitness for the work. His introspection did not reach to a point ofsuspecting that he, an habitual criminal, was necessarily of a sort tobe most objectionable as the protector of a young girl. Indeed, had anyone suggested the thought to him, he would have met it with a sneer, tothe effect that a wretch thus tired of life could hardly object to anyone who constituted himself her savior. 

In this manner, Joe Garson, the notorious forger, led the dripping girleastward through the squalid streets, until at last they came to anadequately lighted avenue, and there a taxicab was found. It carriedthem farther north, and to the east still, until at last it came to ahalt before an apartment house that was rather imposing, set in a streetof humbler dwellings. Here, Garson paid the fare, and then helpedthe girl to alight, and on into the hallway. Mary went with him quiteunafraid, though now with a growing curiosity. Strange as it all was, she felt that she could trust this man who had plucked her from death, who had worked over her with so much of tender kindliness. So, shewaited patiently; only, watched with intentness as he pressed the buttonof a flat number. She observed with interest the thick, wavy gray ofhis hair, which contradicted pleasantly the youthfulness of hisclean-shaven, resolute face, and the spare, yet well-muscled form. 

The clicking of the door-latch sounded soon, and the two entered, andwent slowly up three flights of stairs. On the landing beyond the thirdflight, the door of a rear flat stood open, and in the doorway appearedthe figure of a woman. 

"Well, Joe, who's the skirt?" this person demanded, as the man and hischarge halted before her. Then, abruptly, the round, baby-like face ofthe woman puckered in amazement. Her voice rose shrill. "My Gawd, if itain't Mary Turner!"

At that, the newcomer's eyes opened swiftly to their widest, and shestared astounded in her turn. 

"Aggie!" she cried. 

CHAPTER VII. WITHIN THE LAW. 

In the time that followed, Mary lived in the flat which Aggie Lynchoccupied along with her brother, Jim, a pickpocket much esteemed amonghis fellow craftsmen. The period wrought transformations of radical andbewildering sort in both the appearance and the character of the girl. Joe Garson, the forger, had long been acquainted with Aggie and herbrother, though he considered them far beneath him in the social scale, since their criminal work was not of that high kind on which he pridedhimself. But, as he cast about for some woman to whom he might take thehapless girl he had rescued, his thoughts fell on Aggie, and forthwithhis determination was made, since he knew that she was respectable, viewed according to his own peculiar lights. He was relieved rather thanotherwise to learn that there was already an acquaintance between thetwo women, and the fact that his charge had served time in prison didnot influence him one jot against her. On the contrary, it increased insome measure his respect for her as one of his own kind. By the time hehad learned as well of her innocence, he had grown so interestedthat even her folly, as he was inclined to deem it, did not cause anywavering in his regard. 

Now, at last, Mary Turner let herself drift. It seemed to her that shehad abandoned herself to fate in that hour when she threw herself intothe river. Afterward, without any volition on her part, she had beenrestored to life, and set within an environment new and strange to her, in which soon, to her surprise, she discovered a vivid pleasure. So, she fought no more, but left destiny to work its will unhampered byher futile strivings. For the first time in her life, thanks to thehospitality of Aggie Lynch, secretly reinforced from the funds of JoeGarson, Mary found herself living in luxurious idleness, while her everywish could be gratified by the merest mention of it. She was fed on thedaintiest of fare, for Aggie was a sybarite in all sensuous pleasuresthat were apart from sex. She was clothed with the most delicaterichness for the first time as to those more mysterious garments whichwomen love, and she soon had a variety of frocks as charming as hergraceful form demanded. In addition, there were as many of books andmagazines as she could wish. Her mind, long starved like her body, seized avidly on the nourishment thus afforded. In this interest, Aggiehad no share--was perhaps a little envious over Mary's absorption inprinted pages. But for her consolation were the matters of food anddress, and of countless junketings. In such directions, Aggie was theleader, an eager, joyous one always. She took a vast pride in her guest, with the unmistakable air of elegance, and she dared to dream of greattriumphs to come, though as yet she carefully avoided any suggestion toMary of wrong-doing. 

In the end, the suggestion came from Mary Turner herself, to the greatsurprise of Aggie, and, truth to tell, of herself. 

There were two factors that chiefly influenced her decision. The firstwas due to the feeling that, since the world had rejected her, sheneed no longer concern herself with the world's opinion, or retain anyscruples over it. Back of this lay her bitter sentiment toward the manwho had been the direct cause of her imprisonment, Edward Gilder. Itseemed to her that the general warfare against the world might well bemade an initial step in the warfare she meant to wage, somehow, sometime, against that man personally, in accordance with the hystericalthreat she had uttered to his face. 

The factor that was the immediate cause of her decision on an irregularmode of life was an editorial in one of the daily newspapers. This wasa scathing arraignment of a master in high finance. The point of thewriter's attack was the grim sarcasm for such methods of thievery as arekept within the law. That phrase held the girl's fancy, and she read thearticle again with a quickened interest. Then, she began to meditate. She herself was in a curious, indeterminate attitude as far as concernedthe law. It was the law that had worked the ruin of her life, which shehad striven to make wholesome. In consequence, she felt for the law nogenuine respect, only detestation as for the epitome of injustice. Yet, she gave it a superficial respect, born of those three years ofsuffering which had been the result of the penalty inflicted on her. Itwas as an effect of this latter feeling that she was determined on onething of vital importance: that never would she be guilty of anythingto pit her against the law's decrees. She had known too many hoursof anguish in the doom set on her life because she had been deemed aviolator of the law. No, never would she let herself take any positionin which the law could accuse her.... But there remained the fact thatthe actual cause of her long misery was this same law, manipulated bythe man she hated. It had punished her, though she had been withoutfault. For that reason, she must always regard it as her enemy, must, indeed, hate it with an intensity beyond words--with an intensity equalto that she bore the man, Gilder. Now, in the paragraph she had justread she found a clue to suggestive thought, a hint as to a means bywhich she might satisfy her rancor against the law that had outragedher--and this in safety since she would attempt nought save that withinthe law. 

Mary's heart leaped at the possibility back of those three words, "within the law. " She might do anything, seek any revenge, work anyevil, enjoy any mastery, as long as she should keep within the law. There could be no punishment then. That was the lesson taught by thecaptain in high finance. He was at pains always in his stupendousrobberies to keep within the law. To that end, he employed lawyers ofmighty cunning and learning to guide his steps aright in such tortuouspaths. 

There, then, was the secret. Why should she not use the like means? Why, indeed? She had brains enough to devise, surely. Beyond that, sheneeded only to keep her course most carefully within those limits ofwrong-doing permitted by the statutes. For that, the sole requirementwould be a lawyer equally unscrupulous and astute. At once, Mary's mindwas made up. After all, the thing was absurdly simple. It was merely amatter for ingenuity and for prudence in alliance.... Moreover, therewould come eventually some adequate device against her arch-enemy, Edward Gilder. 

Mary meditated on the idea for many days, and ever it seemedincreasingly good to her. Finally, it developed to a point where shebelieved it altogether feasible, and then she took Joe Garson intoher confidence. He was vastly astonished at the outset and not quitepleased. To his view, this plan offered merely a fashion of settingdifficulties in the way of achievement. Presently, however, thesincerity and persistence of the girl won him over. The task ofconvincing him would have been easier had he himself ever known thetorment of serving a term in prison. Thus far, however, the forgerhad always escaped the penalty for his crimes, though often close toconviction. But Mary's arguments were of a compelling sort as she setthem forth in detail, and they made their appeal to Garson, who was byno means lacking in a shrewd native intelligence. He agreed that theexperiment should be made, notwithstanding the fact that he felt noparticular enthusiasm over the proposed scheme of working. It is likelythat his own strong feeling of attraction toward the girl whom he hadsaved from death, who now appeared before him as a radiantly beautifulyoung woman, was more persuasive than the excellent ideas which shepresented so emphatically, and with a logic so impressive. 

An agreement was made by which Joe Garson and certain of his moretrusted intimates in the underworld were to put themselves under theorders of Mary concerning the sphere of their activities. Furthermore, they bound themselves not to engage in any devious business without herconsent. Aggie, too, was one of the company thus constituted, but shefigured little in the preliminary discussions, since neither Mary northe forger had much respect for the intellectual capabilities of theadventuress, though they appreciated to the full her remarkable powersof influencing men to her will. 

It was not difficult to find a lawyer suited to the necessities of theundertaking. Mary bore in mind constantly the high financier's relianceon the legal adviser competent to invent a method whereby to baffle thelaw at any desired point, and after judicious investigation she selectedan ambitious and experienced Jew named Sigismund Harris, just in theprime of his mental vigors, who possessed a knowledge of the law only tobe equalled by his disrespect for it. He seemed, indeed, preciselythe man to fit the situation for one desirous of outraging the lawremorselessly, while still retaining a place absolutely within it. 

Forthwith, the scheme was set in operation. As a first step, Mary Turnerbecame a young lady of independent fortune, who had living with her acousin, Miss Agnes Lynch. The flat was abandoned. In its stead was anapartment in the nineties on Riverside Drive, in which the ladieslived alone with two maids to serve them. Garson had rooms in theneighborhood, but Jim Lynch, who persistently refused the conditionsof such an alliance, betook himself afar, to continue his recklessgathering of other folk's money in such wise as to make him amenable tothe law the very first time he should be caught at it. 

A few tentative ventures resulted in profits so large that the companygrew mightily enthusiastic over the novel manner of working. In eachinstance, Harris was consulted, and made his confidential statement asto the legality of the thing proposed. Mary gratified her eager mindby careful studies in this chosen line of nefariousness. After afew perfectly legal breach-of-promise suits, due to Aggie's winsomeinnocence of demeanor, had been settled advantageously out of court, Mary devised a scheme of greater elaborateness, with the legal acumen ofthe lawyer to endorse it in the matter of safety. 

This netted thirty thousand dollars. It was planned as the swindlingof a swindler--which, in fact, had now become the secret principle inMary's morality. 

A gentleman possessed of some means, none too scrupulous himself, butwith high financial aspirations, advertised for a partner to investcapital in a business sure to bring large returns. This advertisementcaught the eye of Mary Turner, and she answered it. An introductorycorrespondence encouraged her to hope for the victory in a game ofcunning against cunning. She consulted with the perspicacious Mr. Harris, and especially sought from him detailed information as topartnership law. His statements gave her such confidence that presentlyshe entered into a partnership with the advertiser. By the termsof their agreement, each deposited thirty thousand dollars to thepartnership account. This sum of sixty thousand dollars was ostensiblyto be devoted to the purchase of a tract of land, which should afterwardbe divided into lots, and resold to the public at enormous profit. Asa matter of fact, the advertiser planned to make a spurious purchaseof the tract in question, by means of forged deeds granted by anaccomplice, thus making through fraud a neat profit of thirty thousanddollars. The issue was, however, disappointing to him in the extreme. Nosooner was the sixty thousand dollars on deposit in the bank than MaryTurner drew out the whole amount, as she had a perfect right to dolegally. When the advertiser learned of this, he was, naturally enough, full to overflowing with wrath. But after an interview with Harris heswallowed this wrath as best he might. He found that his adversary knewa dangerous deal as to his various swindling operations. In short, hecould not go into court with clean hands, which is a prime stipulationof the law--though often honored in the breach. But the advertiser'shands were too perilously filthy, so he let himself be mulcted in ragingsilence. 

The event established Mary as the arbiter in her own coterie. Here was, in truth, a new game, a game most entertaining, and most profitable, and not in the least risky. Immediately after the adventure with theadvertiser, Mary decided that a certain General Hastings would make anexcellent sacrifice on the altar of justice--and to her own financialprofit. The old man was a notorious roue, of most unsavory reputationas a destroyer of innocence. It was probable that he would easily fall avictim to the ingenuous charms of Aggie. As for that precocious damsel, she would run no least risk of destruction by the satyr. So, presently, there were elaborate plottings. General Hastings met Aggie in themost casual way. He was captivated by her freshness and beauty, herdemureness, her ignorance of all things vicious. Straightway, he set hissnares, being himself already limed. He showered every gallant attentionon the naive bread-and-butter miss, and succeeded gratifyingly soon inwinning her heart--to all appearance. But he gained nothing more, forthe coy creature abruptly developed most effective powers of resistanceto every blandishment that went beyond strictest propriety. His ardorcooled suddenly when Harris filed the papers in a suit for ten thousanddollars damages for breach of promise. 

Even while this affair was still in the course of execution, Maryfound herself engaged in a direction that offered at least the hopeof attaining her great desire, revenge against Edward Gilder. Thisopportunity came in the person of his son, Dick. After much contriving, she secured an introduction to that young man. Forthwith, she showedherself so deliciously womanly, so intelligent, so daintily feminine, so singularly beautiful, that the young man was enamored almost at once. The fact thrilled Mary to the depths of her heart, for in this son ofthe man whom she hated she saw the instrument of vengeance for whichshe had so longed. Yet, this one thing was so vital to her that she saidnothing of her purposes, not even to Aggie, though that observant personmay have possessed suspicions more or less near the truth. 

It was some such suspicion that lay behind her speech as, in negligee, she sat cross-legged on the bed, smoking a cigarette in a very knowingway, while watching Mary, who was adjusting her hat before the mirror ofher dressing-table, one pleasant spring morning. 

"Dollin' up a whole lot, ain't you?" Aggie remarked, affably, with thatlaxity of language which characterized her natural moods. 

"I have a very important engagement with Dick Gilder, " Mary replied, tranquilly. She vouchsafed nothing more definite as to her intentions. 

"Nice boy, ain't he?" Aggie ventured, insinuatingly. 

"Oh, I suppose so, " came the indifferent answer from Mary, as she tiltedthe picture hat to an angle a trifle more jaunty. 

The pseudo cousin sniffed. 

"You s'pose that, do you? Well, anyhow, he's here so much we ought tobe chargin' him for his meal-ticket. And yet I ain't sure that you evenknow whether he's the real goods, or not. "

The fair face of Mary Turner hardened the least bit. There shone anexpression of inscrutable disdain in the violet eyes, as she turned toregard Aggie with a level glance. 

"I know that he's the son--the only son!--of Edward Gilder. The fact isenough for me. "

The adventuress of the demure face shook her head in token of completebafflement. Her rosy lips pouted in petulant dissatisfaction. 

"I don't get you, Mary, " she admitted, querulously. "You never used tolook at the men. The way you acted when you first run round with me, I thought you sure was a suffragette. And then you met this youngGilder--and--good-night, nurse!"

The hardness remained in Mary's face, as she continued to regard herfriend. But, now, there was something quizzical in the glance with whichshe accompanied the monosyllable:

"Well?"

Again, Aggie shook her head in perplexity. 

"His old man sends you up for a stretch for something you didn't do--andyou take up with his son like----"

"And yet you don't understand!" There was scorn for such gross stupidityin the musical voice. 

Aggie choked a little from the cigarette smoke, as she gave a gasp whensuspicion of the truth suddenly dawned on her slow intelligence. 

"My Gawd!" Her voice came in a treble shriek of apprehension. "I'mwise!"

"But you must understand this, " Mary went on, with an authoritativenote in her voice. "Whatever may be between young Gilder and me is to bestrictly my own affair. It has absolutely nothing to do with the rest ofyou, or with our schemes for money-making. And, what is more, Agnes, Idon't want to talk about it. But----"

"Yes?" queried Aggie, encouragingly, as the other paused. She hopefullyawaited further confidences. 

"But I do want to know, " Mary continued with some severity, "whatyou meant by talking in the public street yesterday with a commonpickpocket. "

Aggie's childlike face changed swiftly its expression from a slyeagerness to sullenness. 

"You know perfectly well, Mary Turner, " she cried indignantly, "thatI only said a few words in passin' to my brother Jim. And he ain't nocommon pickpocket. Hully Gee! He's the best dip in the business. "

"But you must not be seen speaking with him, " Mary directed, with acertain air of command now become habitual to her among the members ofher clique. "My cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch, must be very careful as to herassociates. "

The volatile Agnes was restored to good humor by some subtle quality inthe utterance, and a family pride asserted itself. 

"He just stopped me to say it's been the best year he ever had, " sheexplained, with ostentatious vanity. 

Mary appeared sceptical. 

"How can that be, " she demanded, "when the dead line now is JohnStreet?"

"The dead line!" Aggie scoffed. A peal of laughter rang merrily from hercurving lips. 

"Why, Jim takes lunch every day in the Wall Street Delmonico's. Yes, "she went on with increasing animation, "and only yesterday he went downto Police Headquarters, just for a little excitement, 'cause Jim doessure hate a dull life. Say, he told me they've got a mat at thedoor with 'Welcome' on it--in letters three feet high. Now, what--do--you--think--of that!" Aggie teetered joyously, the whileshe inhaled a shockingly large mouthful of smoke. "And, oh, yes!"she continued happily, "Jim, he lifted a leather from a bull who wasstanding in the hallway there at Headquarters! Jim sure does loveexcitement. "

Mary lifted her dark eyebrows in half-amused inquiry. 

"It's no use, Agnes, " she declared, though without entire sincerity; "Ican't quite keep up with your thieves' argot--your slang, you know. Justwhat did this brother of yours do?"

"Why, he copped the copper's kale, " Aggie translated, glibly. 

Mary threw out her hands in a gesture of dismay. 

Thereupon, the adventuress instantly assumed a most ladylike and mincingair which ill assorted with the cigarette that she held between herlips. 

"He gently removed a leathern wallet, " she said sedately, "containinga large sum of money from the coat pocket of a member of the detectiveforce. " The elegance of utterance was inimitably done. But in the nextinstant, the ordinary vulgarity of enunciation was in full play again. "Oh, Gee!" she cried gaily. "He says Inspector Burke's got a gold watchthat weighs a ton, an' all set with diamon's!--which was give to 'imby--admirin' friends!... We didn't contribute. "

"Given to him, " Mary corrected, with a tolerant smile. 

Aggie sniffed once again. 

"What difference does it make?" she demanded, scornfully. "He's got it, ain't he?" And then she added with avaricious intensity: "Just as soonas I get time, I'm goin' after that watch--believe me!"

Mary shook her head in denial. 

"No, you are not, " she said, calmly. "You are under my orders now. Andas long as you are working with us, you will break no laws. "

"But I can't see----" Aggie began to argue with the petulance of aspoiled child. 

Mary's voice came with a certainty of conviction born of fact. 

"When you were working alone, " she said gravely, did you have a homelike this?"

"No, " was the answer, spoken a little rebelliously. 

"Or such clothes? Most of all, did you have safety from the police?"

"No, " Aggie admitted, somewhat more responsively. "But, just the same, Ican't see----"

Mary began putting on her gloves, and at the same time strove to givethis remarkable young woman some insight into her own point of view, though she knew the task to be one well-nigh impossible. 

"Agnes, " she said, didactically, "the richest men in this country havemade their fortunes, not because of the law, but in spite of the law. They made up their minds what they wanted to do, and then they engagedlawyers clever enough to show them how they could do it, and still keepwithin the law. Any one with brains can get rich in this country if hewill engage the right lawyer. Well, I have the brains--and Harris isshowing me the law--the wonderful twisted law that was made for therich! Since we keep inside the law, we are safe. "

Aggie, without much apprehension of the exact situation, was moved to adimpled mirth over the essential humor of the method indicated. 

"Gee, that's funny, " she cried happily. "You an' me an' Joe Garsonhandin' it to 'em, an' the bulls can't touch us! Next thing you know, Harris will be havin' us incorporated as the American Legal CrimeSociety. "

"I shouldn't be in the least surprised, " Mary assented, as she finishedbuttoning her gloves. She smiled, but there was a hint of grimness inthe bending of her lips. That grimness remained, as she glanced atthe clock, then went toward the door of the room, speaking over hershoulder. 

"And, now I must be off to a most important engagement with Mr. DickGilder. "

CHAPTER VIII. A TIP FROM HEADQUARTERS. 

Presently, when she had finished the cigarette, Aggie proceeded to herown chamber and there spent a considerable time in making a toilettecalculated to set off to its full advantage the slender daintiness ofher form. When at last she was gowned to her satisfaction, she wentinto the drawing-room of the apartment and gave herself over to morecigarettes, in an easy chair, sprawled out in an attitude of comfortnever taught in any finishing school for young ladies. She at the sametime indulged her tastes in art and literature by reading the jokes andstudying the comic pictures in an evening paper, which the maid broughtin at her request. She had about exhausted this form of amusement whenthe coming of Joe Garson, who was usually in and out of the apartmenta number of times daily, provided a welcome diversion. After a casualgreeting between the two, Aggie explained, in response to his question, that Mary had gone out to keep an engagement with Dick Gilder. 

There was a little period of silence while the man, with the resoluteface and the light gray eyes that shone so clearly underneath the thick, waving silver hair, held his head bent downward as if in intent thought. When, finally, he spoke, there was a certain quality in his voice thatcaused Aggie to regard him curiously. 

"Mary has been with him a good deal lately, " he said, halfquestioningly. 

"That's what, " was the curt agreement. 

Garson brought out his next query with the brutal bluntness of his kind;and yet there was a vague suggestion of tenderness in his tones underthe vulgar words. 

"Think she's stuck on him?" He had seated himself on a settee oppositethe girl, who did not trouble on his account to assume a posture moredecorous, and he surveyed her keenly as he waited for a reply. 

"Why not?" Aggie retorted. "Bet your life I'd be, if I had a chance. He's a swell boy. And his father's got the coin, too. "

At this the man moved impatiently, and his eyes wandered to the window. Again, Aggie studied him with a swift glance of interrogation. Not beingthe possessor of an over-nice sensibility as to the feelings of others, she now spoke briskly. 

"Joe, if there's anything on your mind, shoot it. "

Garson hesitated for a moment, then decided to unburden himself, for hecraved precise knowledge in this matter. 

"It's Mary, " he explained, with some embarrassment; "her and youngGilder. "

"Well?" came the crisp question. 

"Well, somehow, " Garson went on, still somewhat confusedly, "I can't seeany good of it, for her. "

"Why?" Aggie demanded, in surprise. 

Garson's manner grew easier, now that the subject was well broached. 

"Old man Gilder's got a big pull, " he vouchsafed, "and if he caught onto his boy's going with Mary, he'd be likely to send the police afterus--strong! Believe me, I ain't looking for any trip up the river. "

Aggie shook her head, quite unaffected by the man's suggestion ofpossible peril in the situation. 

"We ain't done nothin' they can touch us for, " she declared, withassurance. "Mary says so. "

Garson, however, was unconvinced, notwithstanding his deference to thejudgment of his leader. 

"Whether we've done anything, or whether we haven't, don't matter, " heobjected. "Once the police set out after you, they'll get you. Russiaain't in it with some of the things I have seen pulled off in thistown. "

"Oh, can that 'fraid talk!" Aggie exclaimed, roughly. "I tell you theycan't get us. We've got our fingers crossed. "

She would have said more, but a noise at the hall door interrupted her, and she looked up to see a man in the opening, while behind him appearedthe maid, protesting angrily. 

"Never mind that announcing thing with me, " the newcomer rasped to theexpostulating servant, in a voice that suited well his thick-set figure, with the bullet-shaped head and the bull-like neck. Then he turned tothe two in the drawing-room, both of whom had now risen to their feet. 

"It's all right, Fannie, " Aggie said hastily to the flustered maid. "Youcan go. "

As the servant, after an indignant toss of the head, departed along thepassage, the visitor clumped heavily forward and stopped in the centerof the room, looking first at one and then the other of the two with asmile that was not pleasant. He was not at pains to remove the derbyhat which he wore rather far back on his head. By this single sign, onemight have recognized Cassidy, who had had Mary Turner in his chargeon the occasion of her ill-fated visit to Edward Gilder's office, fouryears before, though now the man had thickened somewhat, and his ruddyface was grown even coarser. 

"Hello, Joe!" he cried, familiarly. "Hello, Aggie!"

The light-gray eyes of the forger had narrowed perceptibly as herecognized the identity of the unceremonious caller, while the lines ofhis firmly set mouth took on an added fixity. 

"Well?" he demanded. His voice was emotionless. 

"Just a little friendly call, " Cassidy announced, in his strident voice. "Where's the lady of the house?"

"Out. " It was Aggie who spoke, very sharply. 

"Well, Joe, " Cassidy went on, without paying further heed to the girlfor a moment, "when she comes back, just tell her it's up to her to makea get-away, and to make it quick. "

But Aggie was not one to be ignored under any circumstances. Now, shespoke with some acerbity in her voice, which could at will be wondroussoft and low. 

"Say!" she retorted viciously, "you can't throw any scare into us. Youhadn't got anything on us. See?"

Cassidy, in response to this outburst, favored the girl with a longstare, and there was hearty amusement in his tones as he answered. 

"Nothing on you, eh? Well, well, let's see. " He regarded Garson with agrin. "You are Joe Garson, forger. " As he spoke, the detective took anote-book from a pocket, found a page, and then read: "First arrested in1891, for forging the name of Edwin Goodsell to a check for ten thousanddollars. Again arrested June 19, 1893, for forgery. Arrested in April, 1898, for forging the signature of Oscar Hemmenway to a series of bondsthat were counterfeit. Arrested as the man back of the Reilly gang, in1903. Arrested in 1908 for forgery. "

There was no change in the face or pose of the man who listened to thereading. When it was done, and the officer looked up with a resumptionof his triumphant grin, Garson spoke quietly. 

"Haven't any records of convictions, have you?"

The grin died, and a snarl sprang in its stead. 

"No, " he snapped, vindictively. "But we've got the right dope on you, all right, Joe Garson. " He turned savagely on the girl, who now hadregained her usual expression of demure innocence, but with herrather too heavy brows drawn a little lower than their wont, under theinfluence of an emotion otherwise concealed. 

"And you're little Aggie Lynch, " Cassidy declared, as he thrust thenote-book back into his pocket. "Just now, you're posing as MaryTurner's cousin. You served two years in Burnsing for blackmail. Youwere arrested in Buffalo, convicted, and served your stretch. Nothing onyou? Well, well!" Again there was triumph in the officer's chuckle. 

Aggie showed no least sign of perturbation in the face ofthis revelation of her unsavory record. Only an expression ofhalf-incredulous wonder and delight beamed from her widely opened blueeyes and was emphasized in the rounding of the little mouth. 

"Why, " she cried, and now there was softness enough in the cooing notes, "my Gawd! It looks as though you had actually been workin'!"

The sarcasm was without effect on the dull sensibilities of the officer. He went on speaking with obvious enjoyment of the extent to which hisknowledge reached. 

"And the head of the gang is Mary Turner. Arrested four years ago forrobbing the Emporium. Did her stretch of three years. "

"Is that all you've got about her?" Garson demanded, with suchabruptness that Cassidy forgot his dignity sufficiently to answer withan unqualified yes. 

The forger continued speaking rapidly, and now there was an undercurrentof feeling in his voice. 

"Nothing in your record of her about her coming out without a friendin the world, and trying to go straight? You ain't got nothing in thatpretty little book of your'n about your going to the millinery storewhere she finally got a job, and tipping them off to where she comefrom?"

"Sure, they was tipped off, " Cassidy answered, quite unmoved. And headded, swelling visibly with importance: "We got to protect the city. "

"Got anything in that record of your'n, " Garson went on venomously, "about her getting another job, and your following her up again, andhaving her thrown out? Got it there about the letter you had old Gilderwrite, so that his influence would get her canned?"

"Oh, we had her right the first time, " Cassidy admitted, complacently. 

Then, the bitterness of Garson's soul was revealed by the fierceness inhis voice as he replied. 

"You did not! She was railroaded for a job she never done. She went inhonest, and she came out honest. "

The detective indulged himself in a cackle of sneering merriment. 

"And that's why she's here now with a gang of crooks, " he retorted. 

Garson met the implication fairly. 

"Where else should she be?" he demanded, violently. "You ain't gotnothing in that record about my jumping into the river after her?" Theforger's voice deepened and trembled with the intensity of his emotion, which was now grown so strong that any who listened and looked mightguess something of the truth as to his feeling toward this woman of whomhe spoke. "That's where I found her--a girl that never done nobody anyharm, starving because you police wouldn't give her a chance to work. Inthe river because she wouldn't take the only other way that was left herto make a living, because she was keeping straight!... Have you got anyof that in your book?"

Cassidy, who had been scowling in the face of this arraignment, suddenlygave vent to a croaking laugh of derision. 

"Huh!" he said, contemptuously. "I guess you're stuck on her, eh?"

At the words, an instantaneous change swept over Garson. Hitherto, hehad been tense, his face set with emotion, a man strong and sullen, with eyes as clear and heartless as those of a beast in the wild. Now, without warning, a startling transformation was wrought. His formstiffened to rigidity after one lightning-swift step forward, and hisface grayed. The eyes glowed with the fires of a man's heart in a spasmof hate. He was the embodiment of rage, as he spoke huskily, his voice awhisper that was yet louder than any shout. 

"Cut that!"

The eyes of the two men locked. Cassidy struggled with all his prideagainst the dominant fury this man hurled on him. 

"What?" he demanded, blusteringly. But his tone was weaker than itswont. 

"I mean, " Garson repeated, and there was finality in his accents, adeadly quality that was appalling, "I mean, cut it out--now, here, andall the time! It don't go!" The voice rose slightly. The effect of itwas more penetrant than a scream. "It don't go!... Do you get me?"

There was a short interval of silence, then the officer's eyes at lastfell. It was Aggie who relieved the tension of the scene. 

"He's got you, " she remarked, airily. "Oi, oi! He's got you!"

There were again a few seconds of pause, and then Cassidy made anobservation that revealed in some measure the shock of the experience hehad just undergone. 

"You would have been a big man, Joe, if it hadn't been for that temperof yours. It's got you into trouble once or twice already. Some timeit's likely to prove your finish. "

Garson relaxed his immobility, and a little color crept into his cheeks. 

"That's my business, " he responded, dully. 

"Anyway, " the officer went on, with a new confidence, now that his eyeswere free from the gaze that had burned into his soul, "you've got toclear out, the whole gang of you--and do it quick. "

Aggie, who as a matter of fact began to feel that she was not receivingher due share of attention, now interposed, moving forward till her facewas close to the detective's. 

"We don't scare worth a cent, " she snapped, with the virulence of avixen. "You can't do anything to us. We ain't broke the law. " There camea sudden ripple of laughter, and the charming lips curved joyously, asshe added: "Though perhaps we have bent it a bit. "

Cassidy sneered, outraged by such impudence on the part of anex-convict. 

"Don't make no difference what you've done, " he growled. "Gee!" he wenton, with a heavy sneer. "But things are coming to a pretty pass when agang of crooks gets to arguing about their rights. That's funny, thatis!"

"Then laugh!" Aggie exclaimed, insolently, and made a face at theofficer. "Ha, ha, ha!"

"Well, you've got the tip, " Cassidy returned, somewhat disconcerted, after a stolid fashion of his own. "It's up to you to take it, that'sall. If you don't, one of you will make a long visit with some peopleout of town, and it'll probably be Mary. Remember, I'm giving it to youstraight. "

Aggie assumed her formal society manner, exaggerated to the point ofextravagance. 

"Do come again, little one, " she chirruped, caressingly. "I've enjoyedyour visit so much!"

But Cassidy paid no apparent attention to her frivolousness; only turnedand went noisily out of the drawing-room, offering no return to herdaintily inflected good-afternoon. 

For her own part, as she heard the outer door close behind thedetective, Aggie's expression grew vicious, and the heavy brows drewvery low, until the level line almost made her prettiness vanish. 

"The truck-horse detective!" she sneered. "An eighteen collar, and asix-and-a-half hat! He sure had his nerve, trying to bluff us!"

But it was plain that Garson was of another mood. There was anxiety inhis face, as he stood staring vaguely out of the window. 

"Perhaps it wasn't a bluff, Aggie, " he suggested. 

"Well, what have we done, I'd like to know?" the girl demanded, confidently. She took a cigarette and a match from the tabouret besideher, and stretched her feet comfortably, if very inelegantly, on a chairopposite. 

Garson answered with a note of weariness that was unlike him. 

"It ain't what you have done, " he said, quietly. "It's what they canmake a jury think you've done. And, once they set out to get you--God, how they can frame things! If they ever start out after Mary----" He didnot finish the sentence, but sank down into his chair with a groan thatwas almost of despair. 

The girl replied with a burst of careless laughter. 

"Joe, " she said gaily, "you're one grand little forger, all right, allright. But Mary's got the brains. Pooh, I'll string along with her asfar as she wants to go. She's educated, she is. She ain't like you andme, Joe. She talks like a lady, and, what's a damned sight harder, she acts like a lady. I guess I know. Wake me up any old night and askme--just ask me, that's all. She's been tryin' to make a lady out ofme!"

The vivaciousness of the girl distracted the man for the moment fromthe gloom of his thoughts, and he turned to survey the speaker with acynical amusement. 

"Swell chance!" he commented, drily. 

"Oh, I'm not so worse! Just you watch out. " The lively girl sprangup, discarded the cigarette, adjusted an imaginary train, and spokelispingly in a society manner much more moderate and convincing thanthat with which she had favored the retiring Cassidy. Voice, pose andgesture proclaimed at least the excellent mimic. 

"How do you do, Mrs. Jones! So good of you to call!... My dear MissSmith, this is indeed a pleasure. " She seated herself again, quiteprimly now, and moved her hands over the tabouret appropriately to herwords. "One lump, or two?... Yes, I just love bridge. No, I don't play, "she continued, simpering; "but, just the same, I love it. " With thisabsurd ending, Aggie again arranged her feet according to her liking onthe opposite chair. "That's the kind of stuff she's had me doing, " sherattled on in her coarser voice, "and believe me, Joe, it's damned nearkilling me. But all the same, " she hurried on, with a swift revulsionof mood to the former serious topic, "I'm for Mary strong! You stick toher, Joe, and you'll wear diamon's.... And that reminds me! I wish she'dlet me wear mine, but she won't. She says they're vulgar for an innocentcountry girl like her cousin, Agnes Lynch. Ain't that fierce?... How cananything be vulgar that's worth a hundred and fifty a carat?"

CHAPTER IX. A LEGAL DOCUMENT. 

Mary Turner spent less than an hour in that mysteriously importantengagement with Dick Gilder, of which she had spoken to Aggie. Afterseparating from the young man, she went alone down Broadway, walking thefew blocks of distance to Sigismund Harris's office. On a corner, herattention was caught by the forlorn face of a girl crossing into theside street. A closer glance showed that the privation of the gauntfeatures was emphasized by the scant garments, almost in tatters. Instantly, Mary's quick sympathies were aroused, the more particularlysince the wretched child seemed of about the age she herself had beenwhen her great suffering had befallen. So, turning aside, she sooncaught up with the girl and spoke an inquiry. 

It was the familiar story, a father out of work, a sick mother, a broodof hungry children. Some confused words of distress revealed the factthat the wobegone girl was even then fighting the final battle of purityagainst starvation. That she still fought on in such case proved enoughas to her decency of nature, wholesome despite squalid surroundings. Mary's heart was deeply moved, and her words of comfort came with asimple sincerity that was like new life to the sorely beset waif. Shepromised to interest herself in securing employment for the father, such care as the mother and children might need, along with a propersituation for the girl herself. In evidence of her purpose, she took herengagement-book from her bag, and set down the street and number of theEast Side tenement where the family possessed the one room thatmocked the word home, and she gave a banknote to the girl to serve theimmediate needs. 

When she went back to resume her progress down Broadway, Mary feltherself vastly cheered by the warm glow within, which is the reward ofa kindly act, gratefully received. And, on this particular morning, shecraved such assuagement of her spirit, for the conscience that, inspite of all her misdeeds, still lived was struggling within her. Inher revolt against a world that had wantonly inflicted on her the worsttorments, Mary Turner had thought that she might safely disregard thoseprinciples in which she had been so carefully reared. She had believedthat by the deliberate adoption of a life of guile within limits allowedby the law, she would find solace for her wants, while feeling that thusshe avenged herself in some slight measure for the indignities she hadundergone unjustly. Yet, as the days passed, days of success as far asher scheming was concerned, this brilliant woman, who had tried to deemherself unscrupulous, found that lawlessness within the law failed tosatisfy something deep within her soul. The righteousness that washer instinct was offended by the triumphs achieved through so deviousdevices, though she resolutely set her will to suppress any spiritualrebellion. 

There was, as well, another grievance of her nature, yet more subtle, infinitely more painful. This lay in her craving for tenderness. Shewas wholly woman, notwithstanding the virility of her intelligence, its audacity, its aggressiveness. She had a heart yearning for themultitudinous affections that are the prerogative of the feminine; shehad a heart longing for love, to receive and to give in full measure.... And her life was barren. Since the death of her father, there had beennone on whom she could lavish the great gifts of her tenderness. Throughthe days of her working in the store, circumstances had shut her outfrom all association with others congenial. No need to rehearse theimpossibilities of companionship in the prison life. Since then, thesituation had not vitally improved, in spite of her better worldlycondition. For Garson, who had saved her from death, she felt a strongand lasting gratitude--nothing that relieved the longing for nobleraffections. There was none other with whom she had any intimacy exceptthat, of a sort, with Aggie Lynch, and by no possibility could theadventuress serve as an object of deep regard. The girl was amusingenough, and, indeed, a most likable person at her best. But she was, after all, a shallow-pated individual, without a shred of principle ofany sort whatsoever, save the single merit of unswerving loyalty to her"pals. " Mary cherished a certain warm kindliness for the first womanwho had befriended her in any way, but beyond this there was no finerfeeling. 

Nevertheless, it is not quite accurate to say that Mary Turner had hadno intimacy in which her heart might have been seriously engaged. In oneinstance, of recent happening, she had been much in association with ayoung man who was of excellent standing in the world, who was of goodbirth, good education, of delightful manners, and, too, wholesome andagreeable beyond the most of his class. This was Dick Gilder, and, sinceher companionship with him, Mary had undergone a revulsion greater thanever before against the fate thrust on her, which now at last she hadchosen to welcome and nourish by acquiescence as best she might. 

Of course, she could not waste tenderness on this man, for she haddeliberately set out to make him the instrument of her vengeance againsthis father. For that very reason, she suffered much from a consciencenewly clamorous. Never for an instant did she hesitate in herlong-cherished plan of revenge against the one who had brought ruin onher life, yet, through all her satisfaction before the prospect of finalvictory after continued delay, there ran the secret, inescapable sorrowover the fact that she must employ this means to attain her end. She hadno thought of weakening, but the better spirit within her warred againstthe lust to repay an eye for an eye. It was the new Gospel against theold Law, and the fierceness of the struggle rent her. Just now, thedoing of the kindly act seemed somehow to gratify not only her maternalinstinct toward service of love, but, too, to muffle for a little therebuking voice of her inmost soul. 

So she went her way more at ease, more nearly content again with herselfand with her system of living. Indeed, as she was shown into the privateoffice of the ingenious interpreter of the law, there was not a hint ofany trouble beneath the bright mask of her beauty, radiantly smiling. 

Harris regarded his client with an appreciative eye, as he bowed ingreeting, and invited her to a seat. The lawyer was a man of finephysique, with a splendid face of the best Semitic type, in which werelarge, dark, sparkling eyes--eyes a Lombroso perhaps might have judgedrather too closely set. As a matter of fact, Harris had suffered aflagrant injustice in his own life from a suspicion of wrong-doing whichhe had not merited by any act. This had caused him a loss of prestige inhis profession. He presently adopted the wily suggestion of the adage, that it is well to have the game if you have the name, and he resolutelyset himself to the task of making as much money as possible by any meansconvenient. Mary Turner as a client delighted his heart, both because ofthe novelty of her ideas and for the munificence of the fees which sheungrudgingly paid with never a protest. So, as he beamed on her now, andspoke a compliment, it was rather the lawyer than the man that was movedto admiration. 

"Why, Miss Turner, how charming!" he declared, smiling. "Really, my dearyoung lady, you look positively bridal. "

"Oh, do you think so?" Mary rejoined, with a whimsical pout, as sheseated herself. For the moment her air became distrait, but she quicklyregained her poise, as the lawyer, who had dropped back into hischair behind the desk, went on speaking. His tone now was crisplybusiness-like. 

"I sent your cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch, the release which she is tosign, " he explained, "when she gets that money from General Hastings. I wish you'd look it over, when you have time to spare. It's all right, I'm sure, but I confess that I appreciate your opinion of things, Miss Turner, even of legal documents--yes, indeed, I do!--perhapsparticularly of legal documents. "

"Thank you, " Mary said, evidently a little gratified by the frank praiseof the learned gentleman for her abilities. "And have you heard fromthem yet?" she inquired. 

"No, " the lawyer replied. "I gave them until to-morrow. If I don'thear then, I shall start suit at once. " Then the lawyer's manner becameunusually bland and self-satisfied as he opened a drawer of the deskand brought forth a rather formidable-appearing document, bearing amost impressive seal. "You will be glad to know, " he went on unctuously, "that I was entirely successful in carrying out that idea of yours as tothe injunction. My dear Miss Turner, " he went on with florid compliment, "Portia was a squawking baby, compared with you. "

"Thank you again, " Mary answered, as she took the legal paper which heheld outstretched toward her. Her scarlet lips were curved happily, andthe clear oval of her cheeks blossomed to a deeper rose. For a moment, her glance ran over the words of the page. Then she looked up at thelawyer, and there were new lusters in the violet eyes. 

"It's splendid, " she declared. "Did you have much trouble in gettingit?"

Harris permitted himself the indulgence of an unprofessional chuckle ofkeenest amusement before he answered. 

"Why, no!" he declared, with reminiscent enjoyment in his manner. "Thatis, not really!" There was an enormous complacency in his air over theevent. "But, at the outset, when I made the request, the judge justnaturally nearly fell off the bench. Then, I showed him that Detroitcase, to which you had drawn my attention, and the upshot of it allwas that he gave me what I wanted without a whimper. He couldn't helphimself, you know. That's the long and the short of it. "

That mysterious document with the imposing seal, the request for whichhad nearly caused a judge to fall off the bench, reposed safely inMary's bag when she, returned to the apartment after the visit to thelawyer's office. 

CHAPTER X. MARKED MONEY. 

Mary had scarcely received from Aggie an account of Cassidy'sthreatening invasion, when the maid announced that Mr. Irwin had called. 

"Show him in, in just two minutes, " Mary directed. 

"Who's the gink?" Aggie demanded, with that slangy diction which was herhabit. 

"You ought to know, " Mary returned, smiling a little. "He's thelawyer retained by General Hastings in the matter of a certainbreach-of-promise suit. "

"Oh, you mean yours truly, " Aggie exclaimed, not in the least abashed byher forgetfulness in an affair that concerned herself so closely. "Hopehe's brought the money. What about it?"

"Leave the room now, " Mary ordered, crisply. "When I call to you, comein, but be sure and leave everything to me. Merely follow my lead. And, Agnes--be very ingenue. "

"Oh, I'm wise--I'm wise, " Aggie nodded, as she hurried out toward herbedroom. "I'll be a squab--surest thing you know!"

Next moment, Mary gave a formal greeting to the lawyer who representedthe man she planned to mulct effectively, and invited him to a chairnear her, while she herself retained her place at the desk, within adrawer of which she had just locked the formidable-appearing documentreceived from Harris. 

Irwin lost no time in coming to the point. 

"I called in reference to this suit, which Miss Agnes Lynch threatens tobring against my client, General Hastings. "

Mary regarded the attorney with a level glance, serenely expressionlessas far as could be achieved by eyes so clear and shining, and her voicewas cold as she replied with significant brusqueness. 

"It's not a threat, Mr. Irwin. The suit will be brought. "

The lawyer frowned, and there was a strident note in his voice when heanswered, meeting her glance with an uncompromising stare of hostility. 

"You realize, of course, " he said finally, "that this is merely plainblackmail. "

There was not the change of a feature in the face of the woman wholistened to the accusation. Her eyes steadfastly retained their cleargaze into his; her voice was still coldly formal, as before. 

"If it's blackmail, Mr. Irwin, why don't you consult the police?"she inquired, with manifest disdain. Mary turned to the maid, who nowentered in response to the bell she had sounded a minute before. "Fanny, will you ask Miss Lynch to come in, please?" Then she faced the lawyeragain, with an aloofness of manner that was contemptuous. "Really, Mr. Irwin, " she drawled, "why don't you take this matter to the police?"

The reply was uttered with conspicuous exasperation. 

"You know perfectly well, " the lawyer said bitterly, "that GeneralHastings cannot afford such publicity. His position would bejeopardized. "

"Oh, as for that, " Mary suggested evenly, and now there was a trace offlippancy in her fashion of speaking, "I'm sure the police would keepyour complaint a secret. Really, you know, Mr. Irwin, I think you hadbetter take your troubles to the police, rather than to me. You will getmuch more sympathy from them. "

The lawyer sprang up, with an air of sudden determination. 

"Very well, I will then, " he declared, sternly. "I will!"

Mary, from her vantage point at the desk across from him, smiled asmile that would have been very engaging to any man under more favorablecircumstances, and she pushed in his direction the telephone that stoodthere. 

"3100, Spring, " she remarked, encouragingly, "will bring an officeralmost immediately. " She leaned back in her chair, and surveyed thebaffled man amusedly. 

The lawyer was furious over the failure of his effort to intimidate thisextraordinarily self-possessed young woman, who made a mock of his everythrust. But he was by no means at the end of his resources. 

"Nevertheless, " he rejoined, "you know perfectly well that GeneralHastings never promised to marry this girl. You know----" He broke offas Aggie entered the drawing-room, Now, the girl was demure in seeming almost beyond belief, a childishcreature, very fair and dainty, guileless surely, with those untroubledeyes of blue, those softly curving lips of warmest red and the moredelicate bloom in the rounded cheeks. There were the charms of innocenceand simplicity in the manner of her as she stopped just within thedoorway, whence she regarded Mary with a timid, pleading gaze, herslender little form poised lightly as if for flight

"Did you want me, dear?" she asked. There was something half-plaintivein the modulated cadences of the query. 

"Agnes, " Mary answered affectionately, "this is Mr. Irwin, who has cometo see you in behalf of General Hastings. "

"Oh!" the girl murmured, her voice quivering a little, as the lawyer, after a short nod, dropped again into his seat; "oh, I'm so frightened!"She hurried, fluttering, to a low stool behind the desk, beside Mary'schair, and there she sank down, drooping slightly, and catching hold ofone of Mary's hands as if in mute pleading for protection against thefear that beset her chaste soul. 

"Nonsense!" Mary exclaimed, soothingly. "There's really nothing at allto be frightened about, my dear child. " Her voice was that with whichone seeks to cajole a terrified infant. "You mustn't be afraid, Agnes. Mr. Irwin says that General Hastings did not promise to marry you. Ofcourse, you understand, my dear, that under no circumstances must yousay anything that isn't strictly true, and that, if he did not promiseto marry you, you have no case--none at all. Now, Agnes, tell me: didGeneral Hastings promise to marry you?"

"Oh, yes--oh, yes, indeed!" Aggie cried, falteringly. "And I wish hewould. He's such a delightful old gentleman!" As she spoke, the girl letgo Mary's hand and clasped her own together ecstatically. 

The legal representative of the delightful old gentleman scowleddisgustedly at this outburst. His voice was portentous, as he put aquestion. 

"Was that promise made in writing?"

"No, " Aggie answered, gushingly. "But all his letters were in writing, you know. Such wonderful letters!" She raised her blue eyes towardthe ceiling in a naive rapture. "So tender, and so--er--interesting!"Somehow, the inflection on the last word did not altogether suggest theingenuous. 

"Yes, yes, I dare say, " Irwin agreed, hastily, with some evidences ofchagrin. He had no intention of dwelling on that feature of the letters, concerning which he had no doubt whatsoever, since he knew the amorousGeneral very well indeed. They would be interesting, beyond shadow ofquestioning, horribly interesting. Such was the confessed opinion of theswain himself who had written them in his folly--horribly interestingto all the reading public of the country, since the General was aconspicuous figure. 

Mary intervened with a suavity that infuriated the lawyer almost beyondendurance. 

"But you're quite sure, Agnes, " she questioned gently, "that GeneralHastings did promise to marry you?" The candor of her manner wasperfect. 

And the answer of Aggie was given with a like convincing emphasis. 

"Oh, yes!" she declared, tensely. "Why, I would swear to it. " The limpideyes, so appealing in their soft lusters, went first to Mary, then gazedtrustingly into those of the routed attorney. 

"You see, Mr. Irwin, she would swear to that, " emphasized Mary. 

"We're beaten, " he confessed, dejectedly, turning his glance towardMary, whom, plainly, he regarded as his real adversary in the combat onhis client's behalf. "I'm going to be quite frank with you, MissTurner, quite frank, " he stated with more geniality, though with a verycrestfallen air. Somehow, indeed, there was just a shade too much ofthe crestfallen in the fashion of his utterance, and the woman whom headdressed watched warily as he continued. "We can't afford any scandal, so we're going to settle at your own terms. " He paused expectantly, butMary offered no comment; only maintained her alert scrutiny of theman. The lawyer, therefore, leaned forward with a semblance of frankeagerness. Instantly, Aggie had become agog with greedily blissfulanticipations, and she uttered a slight ejaculation of joy; but Irwinpaid no heed to her. He was occupied in taking from his pocket a thickbill-case, and from this presently a sheaf of banknotes, which he laidon the desk before Mary, with a little laugh of discomfiture over havingbeen beaten in the contest. 

As he did so, Aggie thrust forth an avaricious hand, but it was caughtand held by Mary before it reached above the top of the desk, and theavaricious gesture passed unobserved by the attorney. 

"We can't fight where ladies are concerned, " he went on, assuming, asbest he might contrive, a chivalrous tone. "So, if you will just handover General Hastings' letters, why, here's your money. "

Much to the speaker's surprise, there followed an interval of silence, and his puzzlement showed in the knitting of his brows. "You have theletters, haven't you?" he demanded, abruptly. 

Aggie coyly took a thick bundle from its resting place on her roundedbosom. 

"They never leave me, " she murmured, with dulcet passion. There wasin her voice a suggestion of desolation--a desolation that was theblighting effect of letting the cherished missives go from her. 

"Well, they can leave you now, all right, " the lawyer remarkedunsympathetically, but with returning cheerfulness, since he saw the endof his quest in visible form before him. He reached quickly forward forthe packet, which Aggie extended willingly enough. But it was Mary who, with a swift movement, caught and held it. 

"Not quite yet, Mr. Irwin, I'm afraid, " she said, calmly. 

The lawyer barely suppressed a violent ejaculation of annoyance. 

"But there's the money waiting for you, " he protested, indignantly. 

The rejoinder from Mary was spoken with great deliberation, yet witha note of determination that caused a quick and acute anxiety to theGeneral's representative. 

"I think, " Mary explained tranquilly, "that you had better see ourlawyer, Mr. Harris, in reference to this. We women know nothing of suchdetails of business settlement. "

"Oh, there's no need for all that formality, " Irwin urged, with a greatappearance of bland friendliness. 

"Just the same, " Mary persisted, unimpressed, "I'm quite sure you wouldbetter see Mr. Harris first. " There was a cadence of insistence in hervoice that assured the lawyer as to the futility of further pretense onhis part. 

"Oh, I see, " he said disagreeably, with a frown to indicate his completesagacity in the premises. 

"I thought you would, Mr. Irwin, " Mary returned, and now she smiled ina kindly manner, which, nevertheless, gave no pleasure to the chagrinedman before her. As he rose, she went on crisply: "If you'll take themoney to Mr. Harris, Miss Lynch will meet you in his office at fouro'clock this afternoon, and, when her suit for damages for breachof promise has been legally settled out of court, you will get theletters.... Good-afternoon, Mr. Irwin. "

The lawyer made a hurried bow which took in both of the women, andwalked quickly toward the door. But he was arrested before he reachedit by the voice of Mary, speaking again, still in that imperturbableevenness which so rasped his nerves, for all its mellow resonance. Butthis time there was a sting, of the sharpest, in the words themselves. 

"Oh, you forgot your marked money, Mr. Irwin, " Mary said. 

The lawyer wheeled, and stood staring at the speaker with a certainsheepishness of expression that bore witness to the completeness of hisdiscomfiture. Without a word, after a long moment in which he perceivedintently the delicate, yet subtly energetic, loveliness of this slenderwoman, he walked back to the desk, picked up the money, and restored itto the bill-case. This done, at last he spoke, with a new respect in hisvoice, a quizzical smile on his rather thin lips. 

"Young woman, " he said emphatically, "you ought to have been a lawyer. "And with that laudatory confession of her skill, he finally tookhis departure, while Mary smiled in a triumph she was at no pains toconceal, and Aggie sat gaping astonishment over the surprising turn ofevents. 

It was the latter volatile person who ended the silence that followed onthe lawyer's going. 

"You've darn near broke my heart, " she cried, bouncing up violently, "letting all that money go out of the house.... Say, how did you know itwas marked?"

"I didn't, " Mary replied, blandly; "but it was a pretty good guess, wasn't it? Couldn't you see that all he wanted was to get the letters, and have us take the marked money? Then, my simple young friend, wewould have been arrested very neatly indeed--for blackmail. "

Aggie's innocent eyes rounded in an amazed consternation, which was notat all assumed. 

"Gee!" she cried. "That would have been fierce! And now?" shequestioned, apprehensively. 

Mary's answer repudiated any possibility of fear. 

"And now, " she explained contentedly, "he really will go to our lawyer. There, he will pay over that same marked money. Then, he will get theletters he wants so much. And, just because it's a strictly businesstransaction between two lawyers, with everything done according to legalethics----"

"What's legal ethics?" Aggie demanded, impetuously. "They sound sometasty!" With the comment, she dropped weakly into a chair. 

Mary laughed in care-free enjoyment, as well she might after winning thevictory in such a battle of wits. 

"Oh, " she said, happily, "you just get it legally, and you get twice asmuch!"

"And it's actually the same old game!" Aggie mused. She was doing herbest to get a clear understanding of the matter, though to her it wasall a mystery most esoteric. 

Mary reviewed the case succinctly for the other's enlightenment. 

"Yes, it's the same game precisely, " she affirmed. "A shameless old rouemakes love to you, and he writes you a stack of silly letters. "

The pouting lips of the listener took on a pathetic droop, and her voicequivered as she spoke with an effective semblance of virginal terror. 

"He might have ruined my life!"

Mary continued without giving much attention to these histrionics. 

"If you had asked him for all this money for the return of his letters, it would have been blackmail, and we'd have gone to jail in all humanprobability. But we did no such thing--no, indeed! What we did wasn'tanything like that in the eyes of the law. What we did was merely tohave your lawyer take steps toward a suit for damages for breach ofpromise of marriage for the sum of ten thousand dollars. Then, hislawyer appears in behalf of General Hastings, and there follow anumber of conferences between the legal representatives of the opposingparties. By means of these conferences, the two legal gentlemen run upvery respectable bills of expenses. In the end, we get our ten thousanddollars, and the flighty old General gets back his letters.... My dear, "Mary concluded vaingloriously, "we're inside the law, and so we'reperfectly safe. And there you are!"

CHAPTER XI. THE THIEF. 

Mary remained in joyous spirits after her victorious matching of brainsagainst a lawyer of high standing in his profession. For the time being, conscience was muted by gratified ambition. Her thoughts just then werefar from the miseries of the past, with their evil train of consequencesin the present. But that past was soon to be recalled to her with avividness most terrible. 

She had entered the telephone-booth, which she had caused to beinstalled out of an extra closet of her bedroom for the sake of greaterprivacy on occasion, and it was during her absence from the drawing-roomthat Garson again came into the apartment, seeking her. On being toldby Aggie as to Mary's whereabouts, he sat down to await her return, listening without much interest to the chatter of the adventuress.... Itwas just then that the maid appeared. 

"There's a girl wants to see Miss Turner, " she explained. 

The irrepressible Aggie put on her most finically elegant air. 

"Has she a card?" she inquired haughtily, while the maid titteredappreciation. 

"No, " was the answer. "But she says it's important. I guess the poorthing's in hard luck, from the look of her, " the kindly Fannie added. 

"Oh, then she'll be welcome, of course, " Aggie declared, and Garsonnodded in acquiescence. "Tell her to come in and wait, Fannie. MissTurner will be here right away. " She turned to Garson as the maid leftthe room. "Mary sure is an easy boob, " she remarked, cheerfully. "Blessher soft heart!"

A curiously gentle smile of appreciation softened the immobility of theforger's face as he again nodded assent. 

"We might just as well pipe off the skirt before Mary gets here, " Aggiesuggested, with eagerness. 

A minute later, a girl perhaps twenty years of age stepped just withinthe doorway, and stood there with eyes downcast, after one swift, furtive glance about her. Her whole appearance was that of dejection. Her soiled black gown, the cringing posture, the pallor of her face, proclaimed the abject misery of her state. 

Aggie, who was not exuberant in her sympathies for any one other thanherself, addressed the newcomer with a patronizing inflection, modulatedin her best manner. 

"Won't you come in, please?" she requested. 

The shrinking girl shot another veiled look in the direction of thespeaker. 

"Are you Miss Turner?" she asked, in a voice broken by nervous dismay. 

"Really, I am very sorry, " Aggie replied, primly; "but I am only hercousin, Miss Agnes Lynch. But Miss Turner is likely to be back anyminute now. "

"Can I wait?" came the timid question. 

"Certainly, " Aggie answered, hospitably. "Please sit down. "

As the girl obediently sank down on the nearest chair, Garson addressedher sharply, so that the visitor started uneasily at the unexpectedsound. 

"You don't know Miss Turner?"

"No, " came the faint reply. 

"Then, what do you want to see her about?"

There was a brief pause before the girl could pluck up courage enoughfor an answer. Then, it was spoken confusedly, almost in a whisper. 

"She once helped a girl friend of mine, and I thought--I thought----"

"You thought she might help you, " Garson interrupted. 

But Aggie, too, possessed some perceptive powers, despite the fact thatshe preferred to use them little in ordinary affairs. 

"You have been in stir--prison, I mean. " She hastily corrected the lapseinto underworld slang. 

Came a distressed muttering of assent from the girl. 

"How sad!" Aggie remarked, in a voice of shocked pity for one soinconceivably unfortunate. "How very, very sad!"

This ingenuous method of diversion was put to an end by the entrance ofMary, who stopped short on seeing the limp figure huddled in the chair. 

"A visitor, Agnes?" she inquired. 

At the sound of her voice, and before Aggie could hit on a fittinglyelegant form of reply, the girl looked up. And now, for the firsttime, she spoke with some degree of energy, albeit there was a sinisterundertone in the husky voice. 

"You're Miss Turner?" she questioned. 

"Yes, " Mary said, simply. Her words rang kindly; and she smiledencouragement. 

A gasp burst from the white lips of the girl, and she cowered as onestricken physically. 

"Mary Turner! Oh, my God! I----" She hid her face within her arms andsat bent until her head rested on her knees in an abasement of misery. 

Vaguely startled by the hysterical outburst from the girl, Mary'simmediate thought was that here was a pitiful instance of one sufferingfrom starvation. 

"Joe, " she directed rapidly, "have Fannie bring a glass of milk with anegg and a little brandy in it, right away. "

The girl in the chair was shaking soundlessly under the stress of heremotions. A few disjointed phrases fell from her quivering lips. 

"I didn't know--oh, I couldn't!"

"Don't try to talk just now, " Mary warned, reassuringly. "Wait untilyou've had something to eat. "

Aggie, who had observed developments closely, now lifted her voice intardy lamentations over her own stupidity. There was no affectation ofthe fine lady in her self-reproach. 

"Why, the poor gawk's hungry!" she exclaimed! "And I never got the dopeon her. Ain't I the simp!"

The girl regained a degree of self-control, and showed something offorlorn dignity. 

"Yes, " she said dully, "I'm starving. "

Mary regarded the afflicted creature with that sympathy born only ofexperience. 

"Yes, " she said softly, "I understand. " Then she spoke to Aggie. "Takeher to my room, and let her rest there for a while. Have her drink theegg and milk slowly, and then lie down for a few minutes anyhow. "

Aggie obeyed with an air of bustling activity. 

"Sure, I will!" she declared. She went to the girl and helped her tostand up. "We'll fix you out all right, " she said, comfortingly. "Comealong with me.... Hungry! Gee, but that's tough!"

Half an hour afterward, while Mary was at her desk, giving part of herattention to Joe Garson, who sat near, and part to a rather formidablepile of neatly arranged papers, Aggie reported with her charge, who, though still shambling of gait, and stooping, showed by some faint colorin her face and an increased steadiness of bearing that the food hadalready strengthened her much. 

"She would come, " Aggie explained. "I thought she ought to rest for awhile longer anyhow. " She half-shoved the girl into a chair opposite thedesk, in an absurd travesty on the maternal manner. 

"I'm all right, I tell you, " came the querulous protest. 

Whereupon, Aggie gave over the uncongenial task of mothering, andsettled herself comfortably in a chair, with her legs merely crossed asa compromise between ease and propriety. 

"Are you quite sure?" Mary said to the girl. And then, as the othernodded in assent, she spoke with a compelling kindliness. "Then youmust tell us all about it--this trouble of yours, you know. What is yourname?"

Once again the girl had recourse to the swift, searching, furtiveglance, but her voice was colorless as she replied, listlessly:

"Helen Morris. "

Mary regarded the girl with an expression that was inscrutable when shespoke again. 

"I don't have to ask if you have been in prison, " she said gravely. "Your face shows it. "

"I--I came out--three months ago, " was the halting admission. 

Mary watched the shrinking figure reflectively for a long minute beforeshe spoke again. Then there was a deeper resonance in her voice. 

"And you'd made up your mind to go straight?"

"Yes. " The word was a whisper. 

"You were going to do what the chaplain had told you, " Mary went on ina voice vibrant with varied emotions. "You were going to start all overagain, weren't you? You were going to begin a new life, weren't you?"The bent head of the girl bent still lower in assent. There came acynical note into Mary's utterance now. 

"It doesn't work very well, does it?" she asked, bitterly. 

The girl gave sullen agreement. 

"No, " she said dully; "I'm whipped. "

Mary's manner changed on the instant. She spoke cheerfully for the firsttime. 

"Well, then, " she questioned, "how would you like to work with us?"

The girl looked up for a second with another of her fleeting, stealthyglances. 

"You--you mean that----?"

Mary explained her intention in the matter very explicitly. Her voicegrew boastful. 

"Our kind of work pays well when you know how. Look at us. "

Aggie welcomed the opportunity for speech, too long delayed. 

"Hats from Joseph's, gowns from Lucile's, and cracked ice fromTiffany's. But it ain't ladylike to wear it, " she concluded with areproachful glance at her mentor. 

Mary disregarded the frivolous interruption, and went on speaking to thegirl, and now there was something pleasantly cajoling in her manner. 

"Suppose I should stake you for the present, and put you in with a goodcrowd. All you would have to do would be to answer advertisements forservant girls. I will see that you have the best of references. Then, when you get in with the right people, you will open the front door somenight and let in the gang. Of course, you will make a get-away when theydo, and get your bit as well. "

There flashed still another of the swift, sly glances, and the lips ofthe girl parted as if she would speak. But she did not; only, her headsagged even lower on her breast, and the shrunken form grew yet moreshrunken. Mary, watching closely, saw these signs, and in the sameinstant a change came over her. Where before there had been anunderlying suggestion of hardness, there was now a womanly warmth ofgenuine sympathy. 

"It doesn't suit you?" she said, very softly. "Good! I was in hopes itwouldn't. So, here's another plan. " Her voice had become very winning. "Suppose you could go West--some place where you would have a fairchance, with money enough so you could live like a human being till yougot a start?"

There came a tensing of the relaxed form, and the head lifted a littleso that the girl could look at her questioner. And, this time, theglance, though of the briefest, was less furtive. 

"I will give you that chance, " Mary said simply, "if you really wantit. "

That speech was like a current of strength to the wretched girl. She satsuddenly erect, and her words came eagerly. 

"Oh, I do!" And now her hungry gaze remained fast on the face of thewoman who offered her salvation. 

Mary sprang up and moved a step toward the girl who continued to stareat her, fascinated. She was now all wholesome. The memory of herown wrongs surged in her during this moment only to make her moreappreciative of the blessedness of seemly life. She was moved to adivine compassion over this waif for whom she might prove a beneficentprovidence. There was profound conviction in the emphasis with which shespoke her warning. 

"Then I have just one thing to say to you first. If you are going tolive straight, start straight, and then go through with it. Do you knowwhat that means?"

"You mean, keep straight all the time?" The girl spoke with a forcedrawn from the other's strength. 

"I mean more than that, " Mary went on earnestly. "I mean, forget thatyou were ever in prison. I don't know what you have done--I don't thinkI care. But whatever it was, you have paid for it--a pretty big price, too. " Into these last words there crept the pathos of one who knew. Thesympathy of it stirred the listener to fearful memories. 

"I have, I have!" The thin voice broke, wailing. 

"Well, then, " Mary went on, "just begin all over again, and be sure youstand up for your rights. Don't let them make you pay a second time. Gowhere no one knows you, and don't tell the first people who are kind toyou that you have been crooked. If they think you are straight, why, beit. Then nobody will have any right to complain. " Her tone grew suddenlypleading. "Will you promise me this?"

"Yes, I promise, " came the answer, very gravely, quickened with hope. 

"Good!" Mary exclaimed, with a smile of approval. "Wait a minute, " sheadded, and left the room. 

"Huh! Pretty soft for some people, " Aggie remarked to Garson, with asniff. She felt no alarm lest she wound the sensibilities of the girl. She herself had never let delicacy interfere between herself and money. It was really stranger that the forger, who possessed a more sympatheticnature, did not scruple to speak an assent openly. Somehow, he felt aninexplicable prejudice against this abject recipient of Mary's bounty, though not for the world would he have checked the generous impulse onthe part of the woman he so revered. It was his instinct on her behalfthat made him now vaguely uneasy, as if he sensed some malign influenceagainst her there present with them. 

Mary returned soon. In her hand she carried a roll of bills. She wentto the girl and held out the money. Her voice was business-like now, butvery kind. 

"Take this. It will pay your fare West, and keep you quite a while ifyou are careful. "

But, without warning, a revulsion seized on the girl. Of a sudden, sheshrank again, and turned her head away, and her body trembled. 

"I can't take it, " she stammered. "I can't! I can't!"

Mary stood silent for a moment from sheer amazement over the change. When she spoke, her voice had hardened a little. It is not agreeable tohave one's beneficence flouted. 

"Didn't you come here for help?" she demanded. 

"Yes, " was the faltering reply, "but--but--I didn't know--it was you!"The words came with a rush of desperation. 

"Then, you have met me before?" Mary said, quietly. 

"No, no!" The girl's voice rose shrill. 

Aggie spoke her mind with commendable frankness. 

"She's lying. "

And, once again, Garson agreed. His yes was spoken in a tone of completecertainty. That Mary, too, was of their opinion was shown in her nextwords. 

"So, you have met me before? Where?"

The girl unwittingly made confession in her halting words. 

"I--I can't tell you. " There was despair in her voice. 

"You must. " Mary spoke with severity. She felt that this mystery held init something sinister to herself. "You must, " she repeated imperiously. 

The girl only crouched lower. 

"I can't!" she cried again. She was panting as if in exhaustion. 

"Why can't you?" Mary insisted. She had no sympathy now for the girl'sdistress, merely a great suspicious curiosity. 

"Because--because----" The girl could not go on. 

Mary's usual shrewdness came to her aid, and she put her next questionin a different direction. 

"What were you sent up for?" she asked briskly. "Tell me. "

It was Garson who broke the silence that followed. 

"Come on, now!" he ordered. There was a savage note in his voice underwhich the girl visibly winced. Mary made a gesture toward him that heshould not interfere. Nevertheless, the man's command had in it athreat which the girl could not resist and she answered, though witha reluctance that made the words seem dragged from her by some outsideforce--as indeed they were. 

"For stealing. "

"Stealing what?" Mary said. 

"Goods. "

"Where from?"

A reply came in a breath so low that it was barely audible. 

"The Emporium. "

In a flash of intuition, the whole truth was revealed to the woman whostood looking down at the cowering creature before her. 

"The Emporium!" she repeated. There was a tragedy in the single word. Her voice grew cold with hate, the hate born of innocence long tortured. "Then you are the one who----"

The accusation was cut short by the girl's shriek. 

"I am not! I am not, I tell you. "

For a moment, Mary lost her poise. Her voice rose in a flare of rage. 

"You are! You are!"

The craven spirit of the girl could struggle no more. She could onlysit in a huddled, shaking heap of dread. The woman before her hadbeen disciplined by sorrow to sternest self-control. Though racked byemotions most intolerable, Mary soon mastered their expression to suchan extent that when she spoke again, as if in self-communion, her wordscame quietly, yet with overtones of a supreme wo. 

"She did it!" Then, after a little, she addressed the girl with acertain wondering before this mystery of horror. "Why did you throw theblame on me?"

The girl made several efforts before her mumbling became intelligible, and then her speech was gasping, broken with fear. 

"I found out they were watching me, and I was afraid they would catchme. So, I took them and ran into the cloak-room, and put them in alocker that wasn't close to mine, and some in the pocket of a coat thatwas hanging there. God knows I didn't know whose it was. I just put themthere--I was frightened----"

"And you let me go to prison for three years!" There was a menace inMary's voice under which the girl cringed again. 

"I was scared, " she whined. "I didn't dare to tell. "

"But they caught you later, " Mary went on inexorably. "Why didn't youtell then?"

"I was afraid, " came the answer from the shuddering girl. "I told themit was the first time I had taken anything and they let me off with ayear. "

Once more, the wrath of the victim flamed high. 

"You!" Mary cried. "You cried and lied, and they let you off with ayear. I wouldn't cry. I told the truth--and----" Her voice broke in atearless sob. The color had gone out of her face, and she stood rigid, looking down at the girl whose crime had ruined her life with anexpression of infinite loathing in her eyes. Garson rose from his chairas if to go to her, and his face passed swiftly from compassion toferocity as his gaze went from the woman he had saved from the riverto the girl who had been the first cause of her seeking a grave in thewaters. Yet, though he longed with every fiber of him to comfort thestricken woman, he did not dare intrude upon her in this time of heranguish, but quietly dropped back into his seat and sat watching witheyes now tender, now baleful, as they shifted their direction. 

Aggie took advantage of the pause. Her voice was acid. 

"Some people are sneaks--just sneaks!"

Somehow, the speech was welcome to the girl, gave her a touch of couragesufficient for cowardly protestations. It seemed to relieve the tensiondrawn by the other woman's torment. It was more like the abuse that wasfamiliar to her. A gush of tears came. 

"I'll never forgive myself, never!" she moaned. 

Contempt mounted in Mary's breast. 

"Oh, yes, you will, " she said, malevolently. "People forgive themselvespretty easily. " The contempt checked for a little the ravages of hergrief. "Stop crying, " she commanded harshly. "Nobody is going to hurtyou. " She thrust the money again toward the girl, and crowded it intothe half-reluctant, half-greedy hand. 

"Take it, and get out. " The contempt in her voice rang still sharper, mordant. 

Even the puling creature writhed under the lash of Mary's tones. Shesprang up, slinking back a step. 

"I can't take it!" she cried, whimpering. But she did not drop themoney. 

"Take the chance while you have it, " Mary counseled, still with thecontempt that pierced even the hardened girl's sense of selfishness. Shepointed toward the door. "Go!--before I change my mind. "

The girl needed, indeed, no second bidding. With the money stillclutched in her hand, she went forth swiftly, stumbling a little in herhaste, fearful lest, at the last moment, the woman she had so wrongedshould in fact change in mood, take back the money--ay, even give herover to that terrible man with the eyes of hate, to put her to death asshe deserved. 

Freed from the miasma of that presence, Mary remained motionless for along minute, then sighed from her tortured heart. She turned and wentslowly to her chair at the desk, and seated herself languidly, weakenedby the ordeal through which she had passed. 

"A girl I didn't know!" she said, bewilderedly; "perhaps had neverspoken to--who smashed my life like that! Oh, if it wasn't so awful, itwould be--funny! It would be funny!" A gust of hysterical laughter burstfrom her. "Why, it is funny!" she cried, wildly. "It is funny!"

"Mary!" Garson exclaimed sharply. He leaped across the room to face her. "That's no good!" he said severely. 

Aggie, too, rushed forward. 

"No good at all!" she declared loudly. 

The interference recalled the distressed woman to herself. She made adesperate effort for self-command. Little by little, the unmeaning lookdied down, and presently she sat silent and moveless, staring at the twowith stormy eyes out of a wan face. 

"You were right, " she said at last, in a lifeless voice. "It's done, andcan't be undone. I was a fool to let it affect me like that. I reallythought I had lost all feeling about it, but the sight of that girl--theknowledge that she had done it--brought it all back to me. Well, youunderstand, don't you?"

"We understand, " Garson said, grimly. But there was more than grimness, infinitely more, in the expression of his clear, glowing eyes. 

Aggie thought that it was her turn to voice herself, which she didwithout undue restraint. 

"Perhaps, we do, but I dunno! I'll tell you one thing, though. If anydame sent me up for three years and then wanted money from me, do youthink she'd get it? Wake me up any time in the night and ask me. Notmuch--not a little bit much! I'd hang on to it like an old woman to herlast tooth. " And that was Aggie's final summing up of her impressionsconcerning the scene she had just witnessed. 

CHAPTER XII. A BRIDEGROOM SPURNED. 

After Aggie's vigorous comment there followed a long silence. Thatvolatile young person, little troubled as she was by sensitiveness, guessed the fact that just now further discussion of the event would bedistasteful to Mary, and so she betook herself discreetly to a cigaretteand the illustrations of a popular magazine devoted to the stage. As forthe man, his reticence was really from a fear lest in speaking at allhe might speak too freely, might betray the pervasive violence of hisfeeling. So, he sat motionless and wordless, his eyes carefullyavoiding Mary in order that she might not be disturbed by the invisiblevibrations thus sent from one to another. Mary herself was shaken to thedepths. A great weariness, a weariness that cried the worthlessnessof all things, had fallen upon her. It rested leaden on her soul. Itweighed down her body as well, though that mattered little indeed. Yet, since she could minister to that readily, she rose and went to a setteeon the opposite side of the room where she arranged herself among thecushions in a posture more luxurious than her rather precise earlytraining usually permitted her to assume in the presence of others. There she rested, and soon felt the tides of energy again flowing inher blood, and that same vitality, too, wrought healing even for heragonized soul, though more slowly. The perfect health of her gave herstrength to recover speedily from the shock she had sustained. It wasthis health that made the glory of the flawless skin, white with aliving white that revealed the coursing blood beneath, and the crimsonlips that bent in smiles so tender, or so wistful, and the limpideyes in which always lurked fires that sometimes burst into flame, thelustrous mass of undulating hair that sparkled in the sunlight like anaureole to her face or framed it in heavy splendors with its shadows, and the supple erectness of her graceful carriage, the lithe dignity ofher every movement. 

But, at last, she stirred uneasily and sat up. Garson accepted this as asufficient warrant for speech. 

"You know--Aggie told you--that Cassidy was up here from Headquarters. He didn't put a name to it, but I'm on. " Mary regarded him inquiringly, and he continued, putting the fact with a certain brutal bluntnessafter the habit of his class. "I guess you'll have to quit seeing youngGilder. The bulls are wise. His father has made a holler. 

"Don't let that worry you, Joe, " she said tranquilly. She allowed a fewseconds go by, then added as if quite indifferent: "I was married toDick Gilder this morning. " There came a squeal of amazement from Aggie, a start of incredulity from Garson. 

"Yes, " Mary repeated evenly, "I was married to him this morning. Thatwas my important engagement, " she added with a smile toward Aggie. Forsome intuitive reason, mysterious to herself, she did not care to meetthe man's eyes at that moment. 

Aggie sat erect, her baby face alive with worldly glee. 

"My Gawd, what luck!" she exclaimed noisily. "Why, he's a king fish, heis. Gee! But I'm glad you landed him!"

"Thank you, " Mary said with a smile that was the result of her sense ofhumor rather than from any tenderness. 

It was then that Garson spoke. He was a delicate man in hissensibilities at times, in spite of the fact that he followed deviousmethods in his manner of gaining a livelihood. So, now, he put aquestion of vital significance. 

"Do you love him?"

The question caught Mary all unprepared, but she retained herself-control sufficiently to make her answer in a voice that to theordinary ear would have revealed no least tremor. 

"No, " she said. She offered no explanation, no excuse, merely stated thefact in all its finality. 

Aggie was really shocked, though for a reason altogether sordid, not onewhit romantic. 

"Ain't he young?" she demanded aggressively. "Ain't he good-looking, andloose with his money something scandalous? If I met up with a fellowas liberal as him, if he was three times his age, I could simply adorehim!"

It was Garson who pressed the topic with an inexorable curiosity born ofhis unselfish interest in the woman concerned. 

"Then, why did you marry him?" he asked. The sincerity of him was excuseenough for the seeming indelicacy of the question. Besides, he felthimself somehow responsible. He had given back to her the gift of life, which she had rejected. Surely, he had the right to know the truth. 

It seemed that Mary believed her confidence his due, for she told himthe fact. 

"I have been working and scheming for nearly a year to do it, " she said, with a hardening of her face that spoke of indomitable resolve. "Now, it's done. " A vindictive gleam shot from her violet eyes as she added:"It's only the beginning, too. "

Garson, with the keen perspicacity that had made him a successfulcriminal without a single conviction to mar his record, had seized theimplication in her statement, and now put it in words. 

"Then, you won't leave us? We're going on as we were before?" The hintof dejection in his manner had vanished. "And you won't live with him?"

"Live with him?" Mary exclaimed emphatically. "Certainly not!"

Aggie's neatly rounded jaw dropped in a gape of surprise that was mostunladylike. 

"You are going to live on in this joint with us?" she questioned, aghast. 

"Of course. " The reply was given with the utmost of certainty. 

Aggie presented the crux of the matter. 

"Where will hubby live?"

There was no lessening of the bride's composure as she replied, with alittle shrug. 

"Anywhere but here. "

Aggie suddenly giggled. To her sense of humor there was something vastlydiverting in this new scheme of giving bliss to a fond husband. 

"Anywhere but here, " she repeated gaily. "Oh, won't that be nice--forhim? Oh, yes! Oh, quite so! Oh, yes, indeed--quite so--so!"

Garson, however, was still patient in his determination to apprehendjust what had come to pass. 

"Does he understand the arrangement?" was his question. 

"No, not yet, " Mary admitted, without sign of embarrassment. 

"Well, " Aggie said, with another giggle, "when you do get around to tellhim, break it to him gently. "

Garson was intently considering another phase of the situation, onesuggested perhaps out of his own deeper sentiments. 

"He must think a lot of you!" he said, gravely. "Don't he?"

For the first time, Mary was moved to the display of a slight confusion. She hesitated a little before her answer, and when she spoke it was in alower key, a little more slowly. 

"I--I suppose so. "

Aggie presented the truth more subtly than could have been expected fromher. 

"Think a lot of you? Of course he does! Thinks enough to marry you! Andbelieve me, kid, when a man thinks enough of you to marry you, well, that's some thinking!"

Somehow, the crude expression of this professional adventuresspenetrated to Mary's conscience, though it held in it the truth to whichher conscience bore witness, to which she had tried to shut her ears.... And now from the man came something like a draught of elixir to herconscience--like the trump of doom to her scheme of vengeance. 

Garson spoke very softly, but with an intensity that left no doubt as tothe honesty of his purpose. 

"I'd say, throw up the whole game and go to him, if you really care. "

There fell a tense silence. It was broken by Mary herself. She spokewith a touch of haste, as if battling against some hindrance within. 

"I married him to get even with his father, " she said. "That's all thereis to it.... By the way, I expect Dick will be here in a minute or two. When he comes, just remember not to--enlighten him. "

Aggie sniffed indignantly. 

"Don't worry about me, not a mite. Whenever it's really wanted, I'malways there with a full line of that lady stuff. " Thereupon, she sprangup, and proceeded to give her conception of the proper welcoming of thehappy bridegroom. The performance was amusing enough in itself, but forsome reason it moved neither of the two for whom it was rendered tomore than perfunctory approval. The fact had no depressing effect on theperformer, however, and it was only the coming of the maid that put herlively sallies to an end. 

"Mr. Gilder, " Fannie announced. 

Mary put a question with so much of energy that Garson began finally tounderstand the depth of her vindictive feeling. 

"Any one with him?"

"No, Miss Turner, " the maid answered. 

"Have him come in, " Mary ordered. 

Garson felt that he would be better away for the sake of the newlymarried pair at least, if not for his own. He made hasty excuses andwent out on the heels of the maid. Aggie, however, consulting only herown wishes in the matter, had no thought of flight, and, if the truth betold, Mary was glad of the sustaining presence of another woman. 

She got up slowly, and stood silent, while Aggie regarded her curiously. Even to the insensitive observer, there was something strange in theatmosphere.... A moment later the bridegroom entered. 

He was still clean-cut and wholesome. Some sons of wealthy fathers arenot, after four years experience of the white lights of town. And thelines of his face were firmer, better in every way. It seemed, indeed, that here was some one of a resolute character, not to be wasted on thetrivial and gross things. In an instant, he had gone to her, had caughther in his arms with, "Hello, dear!" smothered in the kiss he implantedon her lips. 

Mary strove vainly to free herself. 

"Don't, oh, don't!" she gasped. 

Dick Gilder released his wife from his arms and smiled the beatificsmile of the newly-wed. 

"Why not?" he demanded, with a smile, a smile calm, triumphant, masterful. 

"Agnes!"... It was the sole pretext to which Mary could turn for amomentary relief. 

The bridegroom faced about, and perceived Agnes, who stood closelywatching the meeting between husband and wife. He made an excellentformal bow of the sort that one learns only abroad, and spoke quietly. 

"I beg your pardon, Miss Lynch, but"--a smile of perfect happiness shoneon his face--"you could hardly expect me to see any one but Mary underthe circumstances. Could you?"

Aggie strove to rise to this emergency, and again took on her bestmanner, speaking rather coldly. 

"Under what circumstances?" she inquired. 

The young man exclaimed joyously. 

"Why, we were married this morning. "

Aggie accepted the news with fitting excitement. 

"Goodness gracious! How perfectly lovely!"

The bridegroom regarded her with a face that was luminous of delight. 

"You bet, it's lovely!" he declared with entire conviction. He turned toMary, his face glowing with satisfaction. 

"Mary, " he said, "I have the honeymoon trip all fixed. The Mauretaniasails at five in the morning, so we will----"

A cold voice struck suddenly through this rhapsodizing. It was that ofthe bride. 

"Where is your father?" she asked, without any trace of emotion. 

The bridegroom stopped short, and a deep blush spread itself over hisboyish face. His tone was filled full to overflowing with compunction ashe answered. 

"Oh, Lord! I had forgotten all about Dad. " He beamed on Mary with asmile half-ashamed, half-happy. "I'm awfully sorry, " he said earnestly. "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Dad a wireless from the ship, then write him from Paris. "

But the confident tone brought no response of agreement from Mary. Onthe contrary, her voice was, if anything, even colder as she replied tohis suggestion. She spoke with an emphasis that brooked no evasion. 

"What was your promise? I told you that I wouldn't go with you untilyou had brought your father to me, and he had wished us happiness. " Dickplaced his hands gently on his wife's shoulders and regarded her with atouch of indignation in his gaze. 

"Mary, " he said reproachfully, "you are not going to hold me to thatpromise?"

The answer was given with a decisiveness that admitted of no question, and there was a hardness in her face that emphasized the words. 

"I am going to hold you to that promise, Dick. "

For a few seconds, the young man stared at her with troubled eyes. Thenhe moved impatiently, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. But hisusual cheery smile came again, and he shrugged resignedly. 

"All right, Mrs. Gilder, " he said, gaily. The sound of the name provokedhim to new pleasure. "Sounds fine, doesn't it?" he demanded, with anuxorious air. 

"Yes, " Mary said, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone. 

The husband went on speaking with no apparent heed of his wife'sindifference. 

"You pack up what things you need, girlie, " he directed. "Just afew--because they sell clothes in Paris. And they are some class, believe me! And meantime, I'll run down to Dad's office, and have himback here in half an hour. You will be all ready, won't you?"

Mary answered quickly, with a little catching of her breath, but stillcoldly. 

"Yes, yes, I'll be ready. Go and bring your father. "

"You bet I will, " Dick cried heartily. He would have taken her in hisarms again, but she evaded the caress. "What's the matter?" he demanded, plainly at a loss to understand this repulse. 

"Nothing!" was the ambiguous answer. 

"Just one!" Dick pleaded. 

"No, " the bride replied, and there was determination in themonosyllable. 

It was evident that Dick perceived the futility of argument. 

"For a married woman you certainly are shy, " he replied, with a slyglance toward Aggie, who beamed back sympathy. "You'll excuse me, won'tyou, Miss Lynch, ... Good-by, Mrs. Gilder. " He made a formal bow to hiswife. As he hurried to the door, he expressed again his admiration forthe name. "Mrs. Gilder! Doesn't that sound immense?" And with that hewas gone. 

There was silence in the drawing-room until the two women heard theclosing of the outer door of the apartment. Then, at last, Aggierelieved her pent-up emotions in a huge sigh that was near a groan. 

"Oh Gawd!" she gasped. "The poor simp!"

CHAPTER XIII. THE ADVENT OF GRIGGS. 

Later on, Garson, learning from the maid that Dick Gilder had left, returned, just as Mary was glancing over the release, with which GeneralHastings was to be compensated, along with the return of his letters, for his payment of ten thousand dollars to Miss Agnes Lynch. 

"Hello, Joe, " Mary said graciously as the forger entered. Then she spokecrisply to Agnes. "And now you must get ready. You are to be at Harris'soffice with this document at four o'clock, and remember that you are tolet the lawyer manage everything. "

Aggie twisted her doll-like face into a grimace. 

"It gets my angora that I'll have to miss Pa Gilder's being led likea lamb to the slaughter-house. " And that was the nearest the littleadventuress ever came to making a Biblical quotation. 

"Anyhow, " she protested, "I don't see the use of all this monkeybusiness here. All I want is the coin. " But she hurried obediently, nevertheless, to get ready for the start. 

Garson regarded Mary quizzically. 

"It's lucky for her that she met you, " he said. "She's got no morebrains than a gnat. "

"And brains are mighty useful things, even in our business, " Maryreplied seriously; "particularly in our business. "

"I should say they were, " Garson agreed. "You have proved that. "

Aggie came back, putting on her gloves, and cocking her small head veryprimly under the enormous hat that was garnished with costliest plumes. It was thus that she consoled herself in a measure for the business ofthe occasion--in lieu of cracked ice from Tiffany's at one hundred andfifty a carat. Mary gave over the release, and Aggie, still grumbling, deposited it in her handbag. 

"It seems to me we're going through a lot of red tape, " she saidspitefully. 

Mary, from her chair at the desk, regarded the malcontent with a smile, but her tone was crisp as she answered. 

"Listen, Agnes. The last time you tried to make a man give up part ofhis money it resulted in your going to prison for two years. "

Aggie sniffed, as if such an outcome were the merest bagatelle. 

"But that way was so exciting, " she urged, not at all convinced. 

"And this way is so safe, " Mary rejoined, sharply. "Besides, my dear, you would not get the money. My way will. Your way was blackmail; mineis not. Understand?"

"Oh, sure, " Aggie replied, grimly, on her way to the door. "It's clearas Pittsburgh. " With that sarcasm directed against legal subtleties, shetripped daintily out, an entirely ravishing vision, if somewhat garishas to raiment, and soon in the glances of admiration that every mancast on her guileless-seeming beauty, she forgot that she had ever beenannoyed. 

Garson's comment as she departed was uttered with his accustomedbluntness. 

"Solid ivory!"

"She's a darling, anyway!" Mary declared, smiling. "You really don'thalf-appreciate her, Joe!"

"Anyhow, I appreciate that hat, " was the reply, with a dry chuckle. 

"Mr. Griggs, " Fannie announced. There was a smile on the face of themaid, which was explained a minute later when, in accordance with hermistress's order, the visitor was shown into the drawing-room, for hispresence was of an elegance so extraordinary as to attract attentionanywhere--and mirth as well from ribald observers. 

Meantime, Garson had explained to Mary. 

"It's English Eddie--you met him once. I wonder what he wants? Probablygot a trick for me. We often used to work together. "

"Nothing without my consent, " Mary warned. 

"Oh, no, no, sure not!" Garson agreed. 

Further discussion was cut short by the appearance of English Eddiehimself, a tall, handsome man in the early thirties, who paused justwithin the doorway, and delivered to Mary a bow that was the perfectionof elegance. Mary made no effort to restrain the smile caused by thecostume of Mr. Griggs. Yet, there was no violation of the canons of goodtaste, except in the aggregate. From spats to hat, from walking coatto gloves, everything was perfect of its kind. Only, there was anover-elaboration, so that the ensemble was flamboyant. And the man'smanners precisely harmonized with his clothes, whereby the whole effectwas emphasized and rendered bizarre. Garson took one amazed look, andthen rocked with laughter. 

Griggs regarded his former associate reproachfully for a moment, andthen grinned in frank sympathy. 

"Really, Mr. Griggs, you quite overcome me, " Mary said, half-apologetically. 

The visitor cast a self-satisfied glance over his garb. 

"I think it's rather neat, myself. " He had some reputation in theunder-world for his manner of dressing, and he regarded this latestachievement as his masterpiece. 

"Sure some duds!" Garson admitted, checking his merriment. 

"From your costume, " Mary suggested, "one might judge that this ispurely a social call. Is it?"

"Well, not exactly, " Griggs answered with a smile. 

"So I fancied, " his hostess replied. "So, sit down, please, and tell usall about it. "

While she was speaking, Garson went to the various doors, and madesure that all were shut, then he took a seat in a chair near that whichGriggs occupied by the desk, so that the three were close together, andcould speak softly. 

English Eddie wasted no time in getting to the point. 

"Now, look here, " he said, rapidly. "I've got the greatest game in theworld.... Two years ago, a set of Gothic tapestries, worth three hundredthousand dollars and a set of Fragonard panels, worth nearly as muchmore, were plucked from a chateau in France and smuggled into thiscountry. "

"I have never heard of that, " Mary said, with some interest. 

"No, " Griggs replied. "You naturally wouldn't, for the simple reasonthat it's been kept on the dead quiet. "

"Are them things really worth that much?" Garson exclaimed. 

"Sometimes more, " Mary answered. "Morgan has a set of Gothic tapestriesworth half a million dollars. "

Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust. 

"He pays half a million dollars for a set of rugs!" There was a note offiercest bitterness come into his voice as he sarcastically concluded:"And they wonder at crime!"

Griggs went on with his account. 

"About a month ago, the things I was telling you of were hung in thelibrary of a millionaire in this city. " He hitched his chair a littlecloser to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to awhisper as he stated his plan. 

"Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter whathappens, he can't squeal. What do you say?"

Garson shot a piercing glance at Mary. 

"It's up to her, " he said. Griggs regarded Mary eagerly, as she sat witheyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, hespoke interrogatively:

"Well?"

Mary shook her head decisively. "It's out of our line, " she declared. 

Griggs would have argued the matter. "I don't see any easier way to gethalf a million, " he said aggressively. 

Mary, however, was unimpressed. 

"If it were fifty millions, it would make no difference. It's againstthe law. "

"Oh, I know all that, of course, " Griggs returned impatiently. "But ifyou can----"

Mary interrupted him in a tone of finality. 

"My friends and I never do anything that's illegal! Thank you forcoming to us, Mr. Griggs, but we can't go in, and there's an end of thematter. "

"But wait a minute, " English Eddie expostulated, "you see this chap, Gilder, is----"

Mary's manner changed from indifference to sudden keen interest. 

"Gilder?" she exclaimed, questioningly. 

"Yes. You know who he is, " Griggs answered; "the drygoods man. "

Garson in his turn showed a new excitement as he bent toward Mary. 

"Why, it's old Gilder, the man you----"

Mary, however, had regained her self-control, for a moment rudelyshaken, and now her voice was tranquil again as she replied:

"I know. But, just the same, it's illegal, and I won't touch it. That'sall there is to it. "

Griggs was dismayed. 

"But half a million!" he exclaimed, disconsolately. "There's a stakeworth playing for. Think of it!" He turned pleadingly to Garson. "Half amillion, Joe!"

The forger repeated the words with an inflection that was gloating. 

"Half a million!"

"And it's the softest thing you ever saw. "

The telephone at the desk rang, and Mary spoke into it for a moment, then rose and excused herself to resume the conversation over the wiremore privately in the booth. The instant she was out of the room, Griggsturned to Garson anxiously. 

"It's a cinch, Joe, " he pleaded. "I've got a plan of the house. " He drewa paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the forger, who seizedit avidly and studied it with intent, avaricious eyes. 

"It looks easy, " Garson agreed, as he gave back the paper. 

"It is easy, " Griggs reiterated. "What do you say?"

Garson shook his head in refusal, but there was no conviction in theact. 

"I promised Mary never to----"

Griggs broke in on him. 

"But a chance like this! Anyhow, come around to the back room atBlinkey's to-night, and we'll have a talk. Will you?"

"What time?" Garson asked hesitatingly, tempted. 

"Make it early, say nine, " was the answer. "Will you?"

"I'll come, " Garson replied, half-guiltily. And in the same moment Maryreentered. 

Griggs rose and spoke with an air of regret. 

"It's 'follow the leader, '" he said, "and since you are against it, thatsettles it. "

"Yes, I'm against it, " Mary said, firmly. 

"I'm sorry, " English Eddie rejoined. "But we must all play the gameas we see it.... Well, that was the business I was after, and, as it'sfinished, why, good-afternoon, Miss Turner. " He nodded toward Joe, andtook his departure. 

Something of what was in his mind was revealed in Garson's first speechafter Griggs's going. 

"That's a mighty big stake he's playing for. "

"And a big chance he's taking!" Mary retorted. "No, Joe, we don't wantany of that. We'll play a game that's safe and sure. "

The words recalled to the forger weird forebodings that had beentroubling him throughout the day. 

"It's sure enough, " he stated, "but is it safe?"

Mary looked up quickly. 

"What do you mean?" she demanded. 

Garson walked to and fro nervously as he answered. 

"S'pose the bulls get tired of you putting it over on 'em and try somerough work?"

Mary smiled carelessly. 

"Don't worry, Joe, " she advised. "I know a way to stop it. "

"Well, so far as that goes, so do I, " the forger said, with significantemphasis. 

"Just what do you mean by that?" Mary demanded, suspiciously. 

"For rough work, " he said, "I have this. " He took a magazine pistol fromhis pocket. It was of an odd shape, with a barrel longer than is usualand a bell-shaped contrivance attached to the muzzle. 

"No, no, Joe, " Mary cried, greatly discomposed. "None of that--ever!"

The forger smiled, and there was malignant triumph in his expression. 

"Pooh!" he exclaimed. "Even if I used it, they would never get on to me. See this?" He pointed at the strange contrivance on the muzzle. 

Mary's curiosity made her forget for a moment her distaste. 

"What is it?" she asked, interestedly. "I have never seen anything likethat before. "

"Of course you haven't, " Garson answered with much pride. "I'm the firstman in the business to get one, and I'll bet on it. I keep up with thetimes. " For once, he was revealing that fundamental egotism which is thecharacteristic of all his kind. "That's one of the new Maxim silencers, "he continued. "With smokeless powder in the cartridges, and the silenceron, I can make a shot from my coat-pocket, and you wouldn't even know ithad been done.... And I'm some shot, believe me. "

"Impossible!" Mary ejaculated. 

"No, it ain't, " the man asserted. "Here, wait, I'll show you. "

"Good gracious, not here!" Mary exclaimed in alarm. "We would have thewhole place down on us. "

Garson chuckled. 

"You just watch that dinky little vase on the table across the roomthere. 'Tain't very valuable, is it?"

"No, " Mary answered. 

In the same instant, while still her eyes were on the vase, it fell ina cascade of shivered glass to the table and floor. She had heard nosound, she saw no smoke. Perhaps, there had been a faintest clickingnoise. She was not sure. She stared dumfounded for a few seconds, thenturned her bewildered face toward Garson, who was grinning in highenjoyment. 

"I would'nt have believed it possible, " she declared, vastly impressed. 

"Neat little thing, ain't it?" the man asked, exultantly. 

"Where did you get it?" Mary asked. 

"In Boston, last week. And between you and me, Mary, it's the onlymodel, and it sure is a corker for crime. "

The sinister association of ideas made Mary shudder, but she said nomore. She would have shuddered again, if she could have guessed thevital part that pistol was destined to play. But she had no thoughtof any actual peril to come from it. She might have thought otherwise, could she have known of the meeting that night in the back room ofBlinkey's, where English Eddie and Garson sat with their heads closetogether over a table. 

"A chance like this, " Griggs was saying, "a chance that will make afortune for all of us. "

"It sounds good, " Garson admitted, wistfully. 

"It is good, " the other declared with an oath. "Why, if this goesthrough, we're set up for life. We can quit, all of us. "

"Yes, " Garson agreed, "we can quit, all of us. " There was avarice in hisvoice. 

The tempter was sure that the battle was won, and smiled contentedly. 

"Well, " he urged, "what do you say?"

"How would we split it?" It was plain that Garson had given over thestruggle against greed. After all, Mary was only a woman, despite hercleverness, and with all a woman's timidity. Here was sport for men. 

"Three ways would be right, " Griggs answered. "One to me, one to you andone to be divided up among the others. "

Garson brought his fist down on the table with a force that made theglasses jingle. 

"You're on, " he said, strongly. 

"Fine!" Griggs declared, and the two men shook hands. "Now, I'llget----"

"Get nothing!" Garson interrupted. "I'll get my own men. Chicago Red isin town. So is Dacey, with perhaps a couple of others of the right sort. I'll get them to meet you at Blinkey's at two to-morrow afternoon, and, if it looks right, we'll turn the trick to-morrow night. "

"That's the stuff, " Griggs agreed, greatly pleased. 

But a sudden shadow fell on the face of Garson. He bent closer to hiscompanion, and spoke with a fierce intensity that brooked no denial. 

"She must never know. "

Griggs nodded understandingly. 

"Of course, " he answered. "I give you my word that I'll never tell her. And you know you can trust me, Joe. "

"Yes, " the forger replied somberly, "I know I can trust you. " But theshadow did not lift from his face. 

CHAPTER XIV. A WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT. 

Mary dismissed Garson presently, and betook herself to her bedroom for anap. The day had been a trying one, and, though her superb health couldendure much, she felt that both prudence and comfort required that sheshould recruit her energies while there was opportunity. She was notin the least surprised that Dick had not yet returned, though he hadmentioned half an hour. At the best, there were many things that mightdetain him, his father's absence from the office, difficulties in makingarrangements for his projected honeymoon trip abroad--which would neveroccur--or the like. At the worst, there was a chance of finding hisfather promptly, and of that father as promptly taking steps to preventthe son from ever again seeing the woman who had so indiscreetly marriedhim. Yet, somehow, Mary could not believe that her husband would yieldto such paternal coercion. Rather, she was sure that he would proveloyal to her whom he loved, through every trouble. At the thoughta certain wistfulness pervaded her, and a poignant regret that thisparticular man should have been the one chosen of fate to be entangledwithin her mesh of revenge. There throbbed in her a heart-tormentingrealization that there were in life possibilities infinitely moresplendid than the joy of vengeance. She would not confess the truth evento her inmost soul, but the truth was there, and set her a-tremble withvague fears. Nevertheless, because she was in perfect health, and wasmuch fatigued, her introspection did not avail to keep her awake, andwithin three minutes from the time she lay down she was blissfullyunconscious of all things, both the evil and the good, revenge and love. 

She had slept, perhaps, a half-hour, when Fannie awakened her. 

"It's a man named Burke, " she explained, as her mistress lay blinking. "And there's another man with him. They said they must see you. "

By this time, Mary was wide-awake, for the name of Burke, the PoliceInspector, was enough to startle her out of drowsiness. 

"Bring them in, in five minutes, " she directed. 

She got up, slipped into a tea-gown, bathed her eyes in cologne, dressedher hair a little, and went into the drawing-room, where the two menhad been waiting for something more than a quarter of an hour--to theviolent indignation of both. 

"Oh, here you are, at last!" the big, burly man cried as she entered. The whole air of him, though he was in civilian's clothes, proclaimedthe policeman. 

"Yes, Inspector, " Mary replied pleasantly, as she advanced into theroom. She gave a glance toward the other visitor, who was of a slendererform, with a thin, keen face, and recognized him instantly as Demarest, who had taken part against her as the lawyer for the store at the timeof her trial, and who was now holding the office of District Attorney. She went to the chair at the desk, and seated herself in a leisurelyfashion that increased the indignation of the fuming Inspector. She didnot trouble to ask her self-invited guests to sit. 

"To whom do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Inspector?" she remarkedcoolly. It was noticeable that she said whom and not what, as if sheunderstood perfectly that the influence of some person brought him onthis errand. 

"I have come to have a few quiet words with you, " the Inspectordeclared, in a mighty voice that set the globes of the chandeliersa-quiver. Mary disregarded him, and turned to the other man. 

"How do you do, Mr. Demarest?" she said, evenly. "It's four years sincewe met, and they've made you District Attorney since then. Allow me tocongratulate you. "

Demarest's keen face took on an expression of perplexity. 

"I'm puzzled, " he confessed. "There is something familiar, somehow, about you, and yet----" He scrutinized appreciatively the loveliness ofthe girl with her classically beautiful face, that was still individualin its charm, the slim graces of the tall, lissome form. "I should haveremembered you. I don't understand it. "

"Can't you guess?" Mary questioned, somberly. "Search your memory, Mr. Demarest. "

Of a sudden, the face of the District Attorney lightened. 

"Why, " he exclaimed, "you are--it can't be--yes--you are the girl, you're the Mary Turner whom I--oh, I know you now. "

There was an enigmatic smile bending the scarlet lips as she answered. 

"I'm the girl you mean, Mr. Demarest, but, for the rest, you don't knowme--not at all!"

The burly figure of the Inspector of Police, which had loomed motionlessduring this colloquy, now advanced a step, and the big voice boomedthreatening. It was very rough and weighted with authority. 

"Young woman, " Burke said, peremptorily, "the Twentieth Century Limitedleaves Grand Central Station at four o'clock. It arrives in Chicago ateight-fifty-five to-morrow morning. " He pulled a massive gold watchfrom his waistcoat pocket, glanced at it, thrust it back, and concludedponderously: "You will just about have time to catch that train. "

Mary regarded the stockily built officer with a half-amused contempt, which she was at no pains to conceal. 

"Working for the New York Central now?" she asked blandly. 

The gibe made the Inspector furious. 

"I'm working for the good of New York City, " he answered venomously. 

Mary let a ripple of cadenced laughter escape her. 

"Since when?" she questioned. 

A little smile twisted the lips of the District Attorney, but he caughthimself quickly, and spoke with stern gravity. 

"Miss Turner, I think you will find that a different tone will serve youbetter. "

"Oh, let her talk, " Burke interjected angrily. "She's only got a fewminutes anyway. "

Mary remained unperturbed. 

"Very well, then, " she said genially, "let us be comfortable during thatlittle period. " She made a gesture of invitation toward chairs, whichBurke disdained to accept; but Demarest seated himself. 

"You'd better be packing your trunk, " the Inspector rumbled. 

"But why?" Mary inquired, with a tantalizing assumption of innocence. "I'm not going away. "

"On the Twentieth Century Limited, this afternoon, " the Inspectordeclared, in a voice of growing wrath. 

"Oh, dear, no!" Mary's assertion was made very quietly, but with anunderlying firmness that irritated the official beyond endurance. 

"I say yes!" The answer was a bellow. 

Mary appeared distressed, not frightened. Her words were an ironicprotest against the man's obstreperous noisiness, no more. 

"I thought you wanted quiet words with me. "

Burke went toward her, in a rage. 

"Now, look here, Mollie----" he began harshly. 

On the instant, Mary was on her feet, facing him, and there was a gleamin her eyes as they met his that bade him pause. 

"Miss Turner, if you don't mind. " She laughed slightly. "For thepresent, anyway. " She reseated herself tranquilly. 

Burke was checked, but he retained his severity of bearing. 

"I'm giving you your orders. You will either go to Chicago, or you'll goup the river. "

Mary answered in a voice charged with cynicism. 

"If you can convict me. Pray, notice that little word 'if'. "

The District Attorney interposed very suavely. 

"I did once, remember. "

"But you can't do it again, " Mary declared, with an assurance thatexcited the astonishment of the police official. 

"How do you know he can't?" he blustered. 

Mary laughed in a cadence of genial merriment. 

"Because, " she replied gaily, "if he could, he would have had me inprison some time ago. "

Burke winced, but he made shift to conceal his realization of the truthshe had stated to him. 

"Huh!" he exclaimed gruffly. "I've seen them go up pretty easy. "

Mary met the assertion with a serenity that was baffling. 

"The poor ones, " she vouchsafed; "not those that have money. I havemoney, plenty of money--now. "

"Money you stole!" the Inspector returned, brutally. 

"Oh, dear, no!" Mary cried, with a fine show of virtuous indignation. 

"What about the thirty thousand dollars you got on that partnershipswindle?" Burke asked, sneering. "I s'pose you didn't steal that!"

"Certainly not, " was the ready reply. "The man advertised for a partnerin a business sure to bring big and safe returns. I answered. Thebusiness proposed was to buy a tract of land, and subdivide it. Thedeeds to the land were all forged, and the supposed seller washis confederate, with whom he was to divide the money. We formed apartnership, with a capital of sixty thousand dollars. We paid the moneyinto the bank, and then at once I drew it out. You see, he wanted to getmy money illegally, but instead I managed to get his legally. For it waslegal for me to draw that money--wasn't it, Mr. Demarest?"

The District Attorney by an effort retained his severe expression ofrighteous disapprobation, but he admitted the truth of her contention. 

"Unfortunately, yes, " he said gravely. "A partner has the right to drawout any, or all, of the partnership funds. "

"And I was a partner, " Mary said contentedly. "You, see, Inspector, youwrong me--you do, really! I'm not a swindler; I'm a financier. "

Burke sneered scornfully. 

"Well, " he roared, "you'll never pull another one on me. You can gambleon that!"

Mary permitted herself to laugh mockingly in the face of the badgeredofficial. 

"Thank you for telling me, " she said, graciously. "And let me say, incidentally, that Miss Lynch at the present moment is painlesslyextracting ten thousand dollars from General Hastings in a perfectlylegal manner, Inspector Burke. "

"Well, anyhow, " Burke shouted, "you may stay inside the law, butyou've got to get outside the city. " He tried to employ an elephantinebantering tone. "On the level, now, do you think you could get away withthat young Gilder scheme you've been planning?"

Mary appeared puzzled. 

"What young Gilder scheme?" she asked, her brows drawn in bewilderment. 

"Oh, I'm wise--I'm wise!" the Inspector cried roughly. "The answer is, once for all, leave town this afternoon, or you'll be in the Tombs inthe morning. "

Abruptly, a change came over the woman. Hitherto, she had been cynical, sarcastic, laughing, careless, impudent. Now, of a sudden, she was allseriousness, and she spoke with a gravity that, despite their volition, impressed both the men before her. 

"It can't be done, Inspector, " she said, sedately. 

The declaration, simple as it was, aroused the official to newindignation. 

"Who says it can't?" he vociferated, overflowing with anger at thisflouting of the authority he represented. 

Mary opened a drawer of the desk, and took out the document obtainedthat morning from Harris, and held it forth. 

"This, " she replied, succinctly. 

"What's this?" Burke stormed. But he took the paper. 

Demarest looked over the Inspector's shoulder, and his eyes grew largeras he read. When he was at an end of the reading, he regarded thepassive woman at the desk with a new respect. 

"What's this?" Burke repeated helplessly. It was not easy for himto interpret the legal phraseology. Mary was kind enough to make thedocument clear to him. 

"It's a temporary restraining order from the Supreme Court, instructingyou to let me alone until you have legal proof that I have broken thelaw.... Do you get that, Mr. Inspector Burke?"

The plethoric official stared hard at the injunction. 

"Another new one, " he stuttered finally. Then his anger sought vent inviolent assertion. "But it can't be done!" he shouted. 

"You might ask Mr. Demarest, " Mary suggested, pleasantly, "as to whetheror not it can be done. The gambling houses can do it, and so keep onbreaking the law. The race track men can do it, and laugh at the law. The railroad can do it, to restrain its employees from striking. So, whyshouldn't I get one, too? You see, I have money. I can buy all the lawI want. And there's nothing you can't do with the law, if you have moneyenough.... Ask Mr. Demarest. He knows. "

Burke was fairly gasping over this outrage against his authority. 

"Can you beat that!" he rumbled with a raucously sonorous vehemence. He regarded Mary with a stare of almost reverential wonder. "A crookappealing to the law!"

There came a new note into the woman's voice as she answered the gibe. 

"No, simply getting justice, " she said simply. "That's the remarkablepart of it. " She threw off her serious air. "Well, gentlemen, " sheconcluded, "what are you going to do about it?"

Burke explained. 

"This is what I'm going to do about it. One way or another, I'm going toget you. "

The District Attorney, however, judged it advisable to use morepersuasive methods. 

"Miss Turner, " he said, with an appearance of sincerity, "I'm going toappeal to your sense of fair play. "

Mary's shining eyes met his for a long moment, and before the challengein hers, his fell. He remembered then those doubts that had assailed himwhen this girl had been sentenced to prison, remembered the half-heartedplea he had made in her behalf to Richard Gilder. 

"That was killed, " Mary said, "killed four years ago. "

But Demarest persisted. Influence had been brought to bear on him. Itwas for her own sake now that he urged her. 

"Let young Gilder alone. "

Mary laughed again. But there was no hint of joyousness in the musicaltones. Her answer was frank--brutally frank. She had nothing to conceal. 

"His father sent me away for three years--three years for something Ididn't do. Well, he's got to pay for it. "

By this time, Burke, a man of superior intelligence, as one must be toreach such a position of authority, had come to realize that here wasa case not to be carried through by blustering, by intimidation, by therough ruses familiar to the force. Here was a woman of extraordinaryintelligence, as well as of peculiar personal charm, who merely madesport of his fulminations, and showed herself essentially armed againstanything he might do, by a court injunction, a thing unheard of untilthis moment in the case of a common crook. It dawned upon him that thiswas, indeed, not a common crook. Moreover, there had grown in him acertain admiration for the ingenuity and resource of this woman, thoughhe retained all his rancor against one who dared thus to resist the dulyconstituted authority. So, in the end, he spoke to her frankly, withouta trace of his former virulence, with a very real, if rugged, sincerity. 

"Don't fool yourself, my girl, " he said in his huge voice, which was nowmodulated to a degree that made it almost unfamiliar to himself. "Youcan't go through with this. There's always a weak link in the chainsomewhere. It's up to me to find it, and I will. "

His candor moved her to a like honesty. 

"Now, " she said, and there was respect in the glance she gave thestalwart man, "now you really sound dangerous. "

There came an interruption, alike unexpected by all. Fannie appeared atthe door. 

"Mr. Edward Gilder wishes to see you, Miss Turner, " she said, with noappreciation of anything dynamic in the announcement. "Shall I show himin?"

"Oh, certainly, " Mary answered, with an admirable pretense ofindifference, while Burke glared at Demarest, and the District Attorneyappeared ill at ease. 

"He shouldn't have come, " Demarest muttered, getting to his feet, inreply to the puzzled glance of the Inspector. 

Then, while Mary sat quietly in her chair at the desk, and the two menstood watching doubtfully the door, the maid appeared, stood aside, andsaid simply, "Mr. Gilder. "

There entered the erect, heavy figure of the man whom Mary had hatedthrough the years. He stopped abruptly just within the room, gave aglance at the two men, then his eyes went to Mary, sitting at her desk, with her face lifted inquiringly. He did not pause to take in the beautyof that face, only its strength. He stared at her silently for a moment. Then he spoke in his oritund voice, a little tremulous from anxiety. 

"Are you the woman?" he said. There was something simple and primitive, something of dignity beyond the usual conventions, in his directaddress. 

And there was the same primitive simplicity in the answer. Between thetwo strong natures there was no subterfuge, no suggestion of politeevasions, of tergiversation, only the plea of truth to truth. Mary'sacknowledgment was as plain as his own question. 

"I am the woman. What do you want?"... Thus two honest folk had met faceto face. 

"My son. " The man's answer was complete. 

But Mary touched a tragic note in her question. It was asked in nofrivolous spirit, but, of a sudden, she guessed that his comingwas altogether of his own volition, and not the result of his son'sinformation, as at first she had supposed. 

"Have you seen him recently?" she asked. 

"No, " Gilder answered. 

"Then, why did you come?"

Thereat, the man was seized with a fatherly fury. His heavy face wascongested, and his sonorous voice was harsh with virtuous rebuke. 

"Because I intend to save my boy from a great folly. I am informed thathe is infatuated with you, and Inspector Burke tells me why--he tellsme--why--he tells me----" He paused, unable for a moment to continuefrom an excess of emotion. But his gray eyes burned fiercely inaccusation against her. 

Inspector Burke himself filled the void in the halting sentence. 

"I told you she had been an ex-convict. "

"Yes, " Gilder said, after he had regained his self-control. He staredat her pleadingly. "Tell me, " he said with a certain dignity, "is thistrue?"

Here, then, was the moment for which she had longed through weary days, through weary years. Here was the man whom she hated, suppliant beforeher to know the truth. Her heart quickened. Truly, vengeance is sweet toone who has suffered unjustly. 

"Is this true?" the man repeated, with something of horror in his voice. 

"It is, " Mary said quietly. 

For a little, there was silence in the room. Once, Inspector Burkestarted to speak, but the magnate made an imperative gesture, and theofficer held his peace. Always, Mary rested motionless. Within her, afierce joy surged. Here was the time of her victory. Opposite her wasthe man who had caused her anguish, the man whose unjust action hadruined her life. Now, he was her humble petitioner, but this servilitycould be of no avail to save him from shame. He must drink of the dregsof humiliation--and then again. No price were too great to pay for awrong such as that which he had put upon her. 

At last, Gilder was restored in a measure to his self-possession. Hespoke with the sureness of a man of wealth, confident that money willsalve any wound. 

"How much?" he asked, baldly. 

Mary smiled an inscrutable smile. 

"Oh, I don't need money, " she said, carelessly. "Inspector Burke willtell you how easy it is for me to get it. "

Gilder looked at her with a newly dawning respect; then his shrewdnesssuggested a retort. 

"Do you want my son to learn what you are?" he said. 

Mary laughed. There was something dreadful in that burst of spuriousamusement. 

"Why not?" she answered. "I'm ready to tell him myself. "

Then Gilder showed the true heart of him, in which love for his boy wasbefore all else. He found himself wholly at a loss before the woman'sunexpected reply. 

"But I don't want him to know, " he stammered. "Why, I've spared the boyall his life. If he really loves you--it will----"

At that moment, the son himself entered hurriedly from the hallway. In his eagerness, he saw no one save the woman whom he loved. At hisentrance, Mary rose and moved backward a step involuntarily, insheer surprise over his coming, even though she had known he mustcome--perhaps from some other emotion, deeper, hidden as yet even fromherself. 

The young man, with his wholesome face alight with tenderness, wentswiftly to her, while the other three men stood silent, motionless, abashed by the event. And Dick took Mary's hand in a warm clasp, pressedit tenderly. 

"I didn't see father, " he said happily, "but I left him a note on hisdesk at the office. "

Then, somehow, the surcharged atmosphere penetrated his consciousness, and he looked around, to see his father standing grimly opposite him. But there was no change in his expression beyond a more radiant smile. 

"Hello, Dad!" he cried, joyously. "Then you got my note?"

The voice of the older man came with a sinister force and saturnine. 

"No, Dick, I haven't had any note. "

"Then, why?" The young man broke off suddenly. He was become awarethat here was something malignant, with a meaning beyond his presentunderstanding, for he saw the Inspector and Demarest, and he knew thetwo of them for what they were officially. 

"What are they doing here?" he demanded suspiciously, staring at thetwo. 

"Oh, never mind them, " Mary said. There was a malevolent gleam in herviolet eyes. This was the recompense of which she had dreamed throughsoul-tearing ages. "Just tell your father your news, Dick. "

The young man had no comprehension of the fact that he was only a pawnin the game. He spoke with simple pride. 

"Dad, we're married. Mary and I were married this morning. "

Always, Mary stared with her eyes steadfast on the father. There wastriumph in her gaze. This was the vengeance for which she had longed, for which she had plotted, the vengeance she had at last achieved. Herewas her fruition, the period of her supremacy. 

Gilder himself seemed dazed by the brief sentence. 

"Say that again, " he commanded. 

Mary rejoiced to make the knowledge sure. 

"I married your son this morning, " she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I married him. Do you quite understand, Mr. Gilder? I married him. "In that insistence lay her ultimate compensation for untold misery. Thefather stood there wordless, unable to find speech against this calamitythat had befallen him. 

It was Burke who offered a diversion, a crude interruption after his ownfashion. 

"It's a frame-up, " he roared. He glared at the young man. "Tell yourfather it ain't true. Why, do you know what she is? She's done time. " Hepaused for an instant, then spoke in a voice that was brutally menacing. "And, by God, she'll do it again!"

The young man turned toward his bride. There was disbelief, hope, despair, in his face, which had grown older by years with the passing ofthe seconds. 

"It's a lie, Mary, " he said. "Say it's a lie!" He seized her handpassionately. 

There was no quiver in her voice as she answered. She drew her hand fromhis clasp, and spoke evenly. 

"It's the truth. "

"It's the truth!" the young man repeated, incredulously. 

"It is the truth, " Mary said, firmly. "I have served three years inprison. "

There was a silence of a minute that was like years. It was the fatherwho broke it, and now his voice was become tremulous. 

"I wanted to save you, Dick. That's why I came. "

The son interrupted him violently. 

"There's a mistake--there must be. "

It was Demarest who gave an official touch to the tragedy of the moment. 

"There's no mistake, " he said. There was authority in his statement. 

"There is, I tell you!" Dick cried, horrified by this conspiracy ofdefamation. He turned his tortured face to his bride of a day. 

"Mary, " he said huskily, "there is a mistake. "

Something in her face appalled him. He was voiceless for a few terribleinstants. Then he spoke again, more beseechingly. 

"Say there's a mistake. "

Mary preserved her poise. Yes--she must not forget! This was the hour ofher triumph. What mattered it that the honey of it was as ashes in hermouth? She spoke with a simplicity that admitted no denial. 

"It's all quite true. "

The man who had so loved her, so trusted her, was overwhelmed by therevelation. He stood trembling for a moment, tottered, almost it seemedwould have fallen, but presently steadied himself and sank supinely intoa chair, where he sat in impotent suffering. 

The father looked at Mary with a reproach that was pathetic. 

"See, " he said, and his heavy voice was for once thin with passion, "seewhat you've done to my boy!"

Mary had held her eyes on Dick. There had been in her gaze a conflict ofemotions, strong and baffling. Now, however, when the father spoke, her face grew more composed, and her eyes met his coldly. Her voice waslevel and vaguely dangerous as she answered his accusation. 

"What is that compared to what you have done to me?"

Gilder stared at her in honest amazement. He had no suspicion as to thetragedy that lay between him and her. 

"What have I done to you?" he questioned, uncomprehending. 

Mary moved forward, passing beyond the desk, and continued her advancetoward him until the two stood close together, face to face. She spokesoftly, but with an intensity of supreme feeling in her voice. 

"Do you remember what I said to you the day you had me sent away?"

The merchant regarded her with stark lack of understanding. 

"I don't remember you at all, " he said. 

The woman looked at him intently for a moment, then spoke in a colorlessvoice. 

"Perhaps you remember Mary Turner, who was arrested four years ago forrobbing your store. And perhaps you remember that she asked to speak toyou before they took her to prison. "

The heavy-jowled man gave a start. 

"Oh, you begin to remember. Yes! There was a girl who swore she wasinnocent--yes, she swore that she was innocent. And she would have gotoff--only, you asked the judge to make an example of her. "

The man to whom she spoke had gone gray a little. He began tounderstand, for he was not lacking in intelligence. Somehow, it wasborne in on him that this woman had a grievance beyond the usual run ofinjuries. 

"You are that girl?" he said. It was not a question, rather anaffirmation. 

Mary spoke with the dignity of long suffering--more than that, with theconfident dignity of a vengeance long delayed, now at last achieved. Her words were simple enough, but they touched to the heart of the manaccused by them. 

"I am that girl. "

There was a little interval of silence. Then, Mary spoke again, remorselessly. 

"You took away my good name. You smashed my life. You put me behind thebars. You owe for all that.... Well' I've begun to collect. "

The man opposite her, the man of vigorous form, of strong face andkeen eyes, stood gazing intently for long moments. In that time, he waslearning many things. Finally, he spoke. 

"And that is why you married my boy. "

"It is. " Mary gave the answer coldly, convincingly. 

Convincingly, save to one--her husband. Dick suddenly aroused, and spokewith the violence of one sure. 

"It is not!"

Burke shouted a warning. Demarest, more diplomatic, made a restraininggesture toward the police official, then started to address the youngman soothingly. 

But Dick would have none of their interference. 

"This is my affair, " he said, and the others fell silent. He stood upand went to Mary, and took her two hands in his, very gently, yet veryfirmly. 

"Mary, " he said softly, yet with a strength of conviction, "you marriedme because you love me. "

The wife shuddered, but she strove to deny. 

"No, " she said gravely, "no, I did not!"

"And you love me now!" he went on insistingly. 

"No, no!" Mary's denial came like a cry for escape. 

"You love me now!" There was a masterful quality in his declaration, which seemed to ignore her negation. 

"I don't, " she repeated bitterly. 

But he was inexorable. 

"Look me in the face, and say that. "

He took her face in his hands, lifted it, and his eyes met herssearchingly. 

"Look me in the face, and say that, " he repeated. 

There was a silence that seemed long, though it was measured in thepassing of seconds. The three watchers dared not interrupt this dramaof emotions, but, at last, Mary, who had planned so long for this hour, gathered her forces and spoke valiantly. Her voice was low, but withoutany weakness of doubt. 

"I do not love you. "

In the instant of reply, Dick Gilder, by some inspiration of love, changed his attitude. "Just the same, " he said cheerfully, "you are mywife, and I'm going to keep you and make you love me. "

Mary felt a thrill of fear through her very soul. 

"You can't!" she cried harshly. "You are his son!"

"She's a crook!" Burke said. 

"I don't care a damn what you've been!" Dick exclaimed. "From nowon you'll go straight. You'll walk the straightest line a woman everwalked. You'll put all thoughts of vengeance out of your heart, becauseI'll fill it with something bigger--I'm going to make you love me. "

Burke, with his rousing voice, spoke again:

"I tell you, she's a crook!"

Mary moved a little, and then turned her face toward Gilder. 

"And, if I am, who made me one? You can't send a girl to prison, andhave her come out anything else. "

Burke swung himself around in a movement of complete disgust. 

"She didn't get her time for good behavior. "

Mary raised her head, haughtily, with a gesture of high disdain. 

"And I'm proud of it!" came her instant retort. "Do you know what goeson there behind those stone walls? Do you, Mr. District Attorney, whosebusiness it is to send girls there? Do you know what a girl is expectedto do, to get time off for good behavior? If you don't, ask thekeepers. "

Gilder moved fussily. 

"And you----"

Mary swayed a little, standing there before her questioner. 

"I served every minute of my time--every minute of it, three full, wholeyears. Do you wonder that I want to get even, that some one has got topay? Four years ago, you took away my name--and gave me a number.... Now, I've given up the number--and I've got your name. "

CHAPTER XV. AFTERMATH OF TRAGEDY. 

The Gilders, both father and son, endured much suffering throughout thenight and day that followed the scene in Mary Turner's apartment, whenshe had made known the accomplishment of her revenge on the older manby her ensnaring of the younger. Dick had followed the others out ofher presence at her command, emphasized by her leaving him alone whenhe would have pleaded further with her. Since then, he had striven toobtain another interview with his bride, but she had refused him. He wasdenied admission to the apartment. Only the maid answered the ringing ofthe telephone, and his notes were seemingly unheeded. Distraught by thisviolent interjection of torment into a life that hitherto had known noimportant suffering, Dick Gilder showed what mettle of man lay beneathhis debonair appearance. And that mettle was of a kind worth while. Inthese hours of grief, the soul of him put out its strength. He learnedbeyond peradventure of doubt that the woman whom he had married wasin truth an ex-convict, even as Burke and Demarest had declared. Nevertheless, he did not for an instant believe that she was guilty ofthe crime with which she had been originally charged and for which shehad served a sentence in prison. For the rest, he could understand insome degree how the venom of the wrong inflicted on her had poisoned hernature through the years, till she had worked out its evil through thescheme of which he was the innocent victim. He cared little for thefact that recently she had devoted herself to devious devices for makingmoney, to ingenious schemes for legal plunder. In his summing of her, he set as more than an offset to her unrighteousness in this regard thedesperate struggle she had made after leaving prison to keep straight, which, as he learned, had ended in her attempt at suicide. He knewthe intelligence of this woman whom he loved, and in his heart wasno thought of her faults as vital flaws. It seemed to him rather thatcircumstances had compelled her, and that through all the sufferingof her life she had retained the more beautiful qualities of herwomanliness, for which he reverenced her. In the closeness of theirassociation, short as it had been, he had learned to know somethingof the tenderer depths within her, the kindliness of her, thewholesomeness. Swayed as he was by the loveliness of her, he was yetmore enthralled by those inner qualities of which the outer beauty wasonly the fitting symbol. 

So, in the face of this catastrophe, where a less love must have beendestroyed utterly, Dick remained loyal. His passionate regard did notfalter for a moment. It never even occurred to him that he might casther off, might yield to his father's prayers, and abandon her. On thecontrary, his only purpose was to gain her for himself, to cherish andguard her against every ill, to protect with his love from every attackof shame or injury. He would not believe that the girl did not carefor him. Whatever had been her first purpose of using him only as aninstrument through which to strike against his father, whatever mightbe her present plan of eliminating him from her life in the future, hestill was sure that she had grown to know a real and lasting affectionfor himself. He remembered startled glances from the violet eyes, caughtunawares, and the music of her voice in rare instants, and these toldhim that love for him stirred, even though it might as yet be butfaintly, in her heart. 

Out of that fact, he drew an immediate comfort in this period of hismisery. Nevertheless, his anguish was a racking one. He grew oldervisibly in the night and the day. There crept suddenly lines of newfeeling into his face, and, too, lines of new strength. The boy died inthat time; the man was born, came forth in the full of his steadfastnessand his courage, and his love. 

The father suffered with the son. He was a proud man, intenselygratified over the commanding position to which he had achieved in thecommercial world, proud of his business integrity, of his standing inthe community as a leader, proud of his social position, proud most ofall of the son whom he so loved. Now, this hideous disaster threatenedhis pride at every turn--worse, it threatened the one person in theworld whom he really loved. Most fathers would have stormed at the boywhen pleading failed, would have given commands with harshness, wouldhave menaced the recalcitrant with disinheritance. Edward Gilder didnone of these things, though his heart was sorely wounded. He lovedhis son too much to contemplate making more evil for the lad by anyestrangement between them. Yet he felt that the matter could not safelybe left in the hands of Dick himself. He realized that his son lovedthe woman--nor could he wonder much at that. His keen eyes hadperceived Mary Turner's graces of form, her loveliness of face. He hadapprehended, too, in some measure at least, the fineness of her mentalfiber and the capacities of her heart. Deep within him, denied anyoutlet, he knew there lurked a curious, subtle sympathy for the girl inher scheme of revenge against himself. Her persistent striving towardthe object of her ambition was something he could understand, since thelike thing in different guise had been back of his own business success. He would not let the idea rise to the surface of consciousness, forhe still refused to believe that Mary Turner had suffered at his handunjustly. He would think of her as nothing else than a vile creature, who had caught his son in the toils of her beauty and charm, for thepurpose of eventually making money out of the intrigue. 

Gilder, in his library this night, was pacing impatiently to and fro, eagerly listening for the sound of his son's return to the house. He hadbeen the guest of honor that night at an important meeting of the CivicCommittee, and he had spoken with his usual clarity and earnestness inspite of the trouble that beset him. Now, however, the regeneration ofthe city was far from his thought, and his sole concern was with theregeneration of a life, that of his son, which bade fair to be ruined bythe wiles of a wicked woman. He was anxious for the coming of Dick, towhom he would make one more appeal. If that should fail--well, he mustuse the influences at his command to secure the forcible parting of theadventuress from his son. 

The room in which he paced to and fro was of a solid dignity, wellfitted to serve as an environment for its owner. It was very large, andlofty. There was massiveness in the desk that stood opposite the halldoor, near a window. This particular window itself was huge, high, jutting in octagonal, with leaded panes. In addition, there was a greatfireplace set with tiles, around which was woodwork elaborately carved, the fruit of patient questing abroad. On the walls were hung some piecesof tapestry, where there were not bookcases. Over the octagonal window, too, such draperies fell in stately lines. Now, as the magnate pacedback and forth, there was only a gentle light in the room, from areading-lamp on his desk. The huge chandelier was unlighted.... It waseven as Gilder, in an increasing irritation over the delay, had thrownhimself down on a couch which stood just a little way within an alcove, that he heard the outer door open and shut. He sprang up with anejaculation of satisfaction. 

"Dick, at last!" he muttered. 

It was, in truth, the son. A moment later, he entered the room, and wentat once to his father, who was standing waiting, facing the door. 

"I'm awfully sorry I'm so late, Dad, " he said simply. 

"Where have you been?" the father demanded gravely. But there was greataffection in the flash of his gray eyes as he scanned the young man'sface, and the touch of the hand that he put on Dick's shoulder was verytender. "With that woman again?"

The boy's voice was disconsolate as he replied:

"No, father, not with her. She won't see me. "

The older man snorted a wrathful appreciation. 

"Naturally!" he exclaimed with exceeding bitterness in the heavy voice. "She's got all she wanted from you--my name!" He repeated the words witha grimace of exasperation: "My name!"

There was a novel dignity in the son's tone as he spoke. 

"It's mine, too, you know, sir, " he said quietly. 

The father was impressed of a sudden with the fact that, while thisaffair was of supreme import to himself, it was, after all, of stillgreater significance to his son. To himself, the chief concerns wereof the worldly kind. To this boy, the vital thing was something deeper, something of the heart: for, however absurd his feeling, the truthremained that he loved the woman. Yes, it was the son's name that MaryTurner had taken, as well as that of his father. In the case of the son, she had taken not only his name, but his very life. Yes, it was, indeed, Dick's tragedy. Whatever he, the father, might feel, the son was, afterall, more affected. He must suffer more, must lose more, must pay morewith happiness for his folly. 

Gilder looked at his son with a strange, new respect, but he could notlet the situation go without protest, protest of the most vehement. 

"Dick, " he cried, and his big voice was shaken a little by the forceof his emotion; "boy, you are all I have in the world. You will haveto free yourself from this woman somehow. " He stood very erect, staringsteadfastly out of his clear gray eyes into those of his son. His heavyface was rigid with feeling; the coarse mouth bent slightly in a smileof troubled fondness, as he added more softly: "You owe me that much. "

The son's eyes met his father's freely. There was respect in them, andaffection, but there was something else, too, something the older manrecognized as beyond his control. He spoke gravely, with a deliberateconviction. 

"I owe something to her, too, Dad. "

But Gilder would not let the statement go unchallenged. His heavy voicerang out rebukingly, overtoned with protest. 

"What can you owe her?" he demanded indignantly. "She tricked you intothe marriage. Why, legally, it's not even that. There's been nothingmore than a wedding ceremony. The courts hold that that is only a partof the marriage actually. The fact that she doesn't receive you makes itsimpler, too. It can be arranged. We must get you out of the scrape. "

He turned and went to the desk, as if to sit, but he was halted by hisson's answer, given very gently, yet with a note of finality that to thefather's ear rang like the crack of doom. 

"I'm not sure that I want to get out of it, father. "

That was all, but those plain words summed the situation, made the issuea matter not of advice, but of the heart. 

Gilder persisted, however, in trying to evade the integral fact of hisson's feeling. Still he tried to fix the issue on the known unsavoryreputation of the woman. 

"You want to stay married to this jail-bird!" he stormed. 

A gust of fury swept the boy. He loved the woman, in spite of all; herespected her, even reverenced her. To hear her thus named moved him toa rage almost beyond his control. But he mastered himself. He rememberedthat the man who spoke loved him; he remembered, too, that the word ofopprobrium was no more than the truth, however offensive it might beto his sensitiveness. He waited a moment until he could hold his voiceeven. Then his words were the sternest protest that could have beenuttered, though they came from no exercise of thought, only out of thedeeps of his heart. 

"I'm very fond of her. "

That was all. But the simple sincerity of the saying griped the father'smood, as no argument could have done. There was a little silence. Afterall, what could meet such loving loyalty?

When at last he spoke, Gilder's voice was subdued, a little husky. 

"Now, that you know?" he questioned. 

There was no faltering in the answer. 

"Now, that I know, " Dick said distinctly. Then abruptly, the young manspoke with the energy of perfect faith in the woman. "Don't you see, father? Why, she is justified in a way, in her own mind anyhow, I mean. She was innocent when she was sent to prison. She feels that the worldowes her----"

But the older man would not permit the assertion to go uncontradicted. That reference to the woman's innocence was an arraignment of himself, for it had been he who sent her to the term of imprisonment. 

"Don't talk to me about her innocence!" he said, and his voice wasominous. "I suppose next you will argue that, because she's been cleverenough to keep within the law, since she's got out of State Prison, she's not a criminal. But let me tell you--crime is crime, whether thelaw touches it in the particular case, or whether it doesn't. "

Gilder faced his son sternly for a moment, and then presently spokeagain with deeper earnestness. 

"There's only one course open to you, my boy. You must give this girlup. "

The son met his father's gaze with a level look in which there was noweakness. 

"I've told you, Dad----" he began. 

"You must, I tell you, " the father insisted. Then he went on quickly, with a tone of utmost positiveness. "If you don't, what are you going todo the day your wife is thrown into a patrol wagon and carried to PoliceHeadquarters--for it's sure to happen? The cleverest of people makemistakes, and some day she'll make one. "

Dick threw out his hands in a gesture of supreme denial. He was furiousat this supposition that she would continue in her irregular practices. 

But the father went on remorselessly. 

"They will stand her up where the detectives will walk past her withmasks on their faces. Her picture, of course, is already in the Rogues'Gallery, but they will take another. Yes, and the imprints of herfingers, and the measurements of her body. "

The son was writhing under the words. The woman of whom these thingswere said was the woman whom he loved. It was blasphemy to think ofher in such case, subjected to the degradation of these processes. Yet, every word had in it the piercing, horrible sting of truth. His facewhitened. He raised a supplicating hand. 

"Father!"

"That's what they will do to your wife, " Gilder went on harshly; "to thewoman who bears your name and mine. " There was a little pause, and thefather stood rigid, menacing. The final question came rasping. "What areyou going to do about it?"

Dick went forward until he was close to his father. Then he spoke withprofound conviction. 

"It will never happen. She will go straight, Dad. That I know. You wouldknow it if you only knew her as I do. "

Gilder once again put his hand tenderly on his son's shoulder. His voicewas modulated to an unaccustomed mildness as he spoke. 

"Be sensible, boy, " he pleaded softly. "Be sensible!"

Dick dropped down on the couch, and made his answer very gently, hiseyes unseeing as he dwelt on the things he knew of the woman he loved. 

"Why, Dad, " he said, "she is young. She's just like a child in a hundredways. She loves the trees and the grass and the flowers--and everythingthat's simple and real! And as for her heart--" His voice was low andvery tender: "Why, her heart is the biggest I've ever known. It's justoverflowing with sweetness and kindness. I've seen her pick up a babythat had fallen in the street, and mother it in a way that--well, no onecould do it as she did it, unless her soul was clean. "

The father was silent, a little awed. He made an effort to shake off thefeeling, and spoke with a sneer. 

"You heard what she said yesterday, and you still are such a fool as tothink that. "

The answer of the son came with an immutable finality, the sublime faithof love. 

"I don't think--I know!"

Gilder was in despair. What argument could avail him? He cried outsharply in desperation. 

"Do you realize what you're doing? Don't go to smash, Dick, just at thebeginning of your life. Oh, I beg you, boy, stop! Put this girl out ofyour thoughts and start fresh. "

The reply was of the simplest, and it was the end of argument. 

"Father, " Dick said, very gently, "I can't. "

There followed a little period of quiet between the two. The father, from his desk, stood facing his son, who thus denied him in all honestybecause the heart so commanded. The son rested motionless and lookedwith unflinching eyes into his father's face. In the gaze of each was agreat affection. 

"You're all I have, my boy, " the older man said at last. And now the bigvoice was a mildest whisper of love. 

"Yes, Dad, " came the answer--another whisper, since it is hard to voicethe truth of feeling such as this. "If I could avoid it, I wouldn't hurtyou for anything in the world. I'm sorry, Dad, awfully sorry----" Hehesitated, then his voice rang out clearly. There was in his tone, whenhe spoke again, a recognition of that loneliness which is the curse andthe crown of being:

"But, " he ended, "I must fight this out by myself--fight it out in myown way.... And I'm going to do it!"

CHAPTER XVI. BURKE PLOTS. 

The butler entered. 

"A man to see you, sir, " he said. 

Gilder made a gesture of irritation, as he sank into the chair at hisdesk. 

"I can't see any one to-night, Thomas, " he exclaimed, sharply. 

"But he said it was most important, sir, " the servant went on. He heldout the tray insistently. 

The master took the card grudgingly. As his eyes caught the name, hisexpression changed slightly. 

"Very well, " he said, "show him up. " His glance met the wondering gazeof his son. 

"It's Burke, " he explained. 

"What on earth can he want--at this time of night?" Dick exclaimed. 

The father smiled grimly. 

"You may as well get used to visits from the police. " There wassomething ghastly in the effort toward playfulness. 

A moment later, Inspector Burke entered the room. 

"Oh, you're here, too, " he said, as his eyes fell on Dick. "That's good. I wanted to see you, too. "

Inspector Burke was, in fact, much concerned over the situation thathad developed. He was a man of undoubted ability, and he took a keenprofessional pride in his work. He possessed the faults of his class, was not too scrupulous where he saw a safe opportunity to make a snugsum of money through the employment of his official authority, was readyto buckle to those whose influence could help or hinder his ambition. But, in spite of these ordinary defects, he was fond of his work andwishful to excel in it. Thus, Mary Turner had come to be a thorn in hisside. She flouted his authority and sustained her incredible effronteryby a restraining order from the court. The thing was outrageous to him, and he set himself to match her cunning. The fact that she had involvedDick Gilder within her toils made him the more anxious to overcome herin the strife of resources between them. After much studying, he hadat last planned something that, while it would not directly touchMary herself, would at least serve to intimidate her, and as well makefurther action easier against her. It was in pursuit of this schemethat he now came to Gilder's house, and the presence of the young manabruptly gave him another idea that might benefit him well. So, hedisregarded Gilder's greeting, and went on speaking to the son. 

"She's skipped!" he said, triumphantly. 

Dick made a step forward. His eyes flashed, and there was anger in hisvoice as he replied:

"I don't believe it. "

The Inspector smiled, unperturbed. 

"She left this morning for Chicago, " he said, lying with a manner thatlong habit rendered altogether convincing. "I told you she'd go. " Heturned to the father, and spoke with an air of boastful good nature. "Now, all you have to do is to get this boy out of the scrape and you'llbe all right. "

"If we only could!" The cry came with deepest earnestness from the lipsof Gilder, but there was little hope in his voice. 

The Inspector, however, was confident of success, and his tones rangcheerfully as he answered:

"I guess we can find a way to have the marriage annulled, or whateverthey do to marriages that don't take. "

The brutal assurance of the man in thus referring to things that weresacred, moved Dick to wrath. 

"Don't you interfere, " he said. His words were spoken softly, buttensely. 

Nevertheless, Burke held to the topic, but an indefinable change in hismanner rendered it less offensive to the young man. 

"Interfere! Huh!" he ejaculated, grinning broadly. "Why, that's whatI'm paid to do. Listen to me, son. The minute you begin mixing up withcrooks, you ain't in a position to give orders to any one. The crookshave got no rights in the eyes of the police. Just remember that. "

The Inspector spoke the simple truth as he knew it from years ofexperience. The theory of the law is that a presumption of innocenceexists until the accused is proven guilty. But the police are out ofsympathy with such finical methods. With them, the crook is presumedguilty at the outset of whatever may be charged against him. If needbe, there will be proof a-plenty against him--of the sort that theunderworld knows to its sorrow. 

But Dick was not listening. His thoughts were again wholly with thewoman he loved, who, as the Inspector declared, had fled from him. 

"Where's she gone in Chicago?"

Burke answered in his usual gruff fashion, but with a note of kindlinessthat was not without its effect on Dick. 

"I'm no mind-reader, " he said. "But she's a swell little girl, allright. I've got to hand it to her for that. So, she'll probably stop atthe Blackstone--that is, until the Chicago police are tipped off thatshe is in town. "

Of a sudden, the face of the young man took on a totally differentexpression. Where before had been anger, now was a vivid eagerness. Hewent close to the Inspector, and spoke with intense seriousness. 

"Burke, " he said, pleadingly, "give me a chance. I'll leave for Chicagoin the morning. Give me twenty-four hours start before you beginhounding her. "

The Inspector regarded the speaker searchingly. His heavy face wasdrawn in an expression of apparent doubt. Abruptly, then, he smiledacquiescence. 

"Seems reasonable, " he admitted. 

But the father strode to his son. 

"No, no, Dick, " he cried. "You shall not go! You shall not go!"

Burke, however, shook his head in remonstrance against Gilder's plea. His huge voice came booming, weightily impressive. 

"Why not?" he questioned. "It's a fair gamble. And, besides, I like theboy's nerve. "

Dick seized on the admission eagerly. 

"And you'll agree?" he cried. 

"Yes, I'll agree, " the Inspector answered. 

"Thank you, " Dick said quietly. 

But the father was not content. On the contrary, he went toward the twohurriedly, with a gesture of reproval. 

"You shall not go, Dick, " he declared, imperiously. 

The Inspector shot a word of warning to Gilder in an aside that Dickcould not hear. 

"Keep still, " he replied. "It's all right. "

Dick went on speaking with a seriousness suited to the magnitude of hisinterests. 

"You give me your word, Inspector, " he said, "that you won't notify thepolice in Chicago until I've been there twenty-four hours?"

"You're on, " Burke replied genially. "They won't get a whisper out of meuntil the time is up. " He swung about to face the father, and therewas a complete change in his manner. "Now, then, Mr. Gilder, " he saidbriskly, "I want to talk to you about another little matter----"

Dick caught the suggestion, and interrupted quickly. 

"Then I'll go. " He smiled rather wanly at his father. "You know, Dad, I'm sorry, but I've got to do what I think is the right thing. "

Burke helped to save the situation from the growing tenseness. 

"Sure, " he cried heartily; "sure you have. That's the best any of us cando. " He watched keenly as the young man went out of the room. It was notuntil the door was closed after Dick that he spoke. Then he dropped to aseat on the couch, and proceeded to make his confidences to the magnate. 

"He'll go to Chicago in the morning, you think, don't you?"

"Certainly, " Gilder answered. "But I don't like it. "

Burke slapped his leg with an enthusiasm that might have broken a weakermember. 

"Best thing that could have happened!" he vociferated. And then, asGilder regarded him in astonishment, he added, chuckling: "You see, hewon't find her there. "

"Why do you think that?" Gilder demanded, greatly puzzled. 

Burke permitted himself the luxury of laughing appreciatively a momentmore before making his exclamation. Then he said quietly:

"Because she didn't go there. "

"Where did she go, then?" Gilder queried wholly at a loss. 

Once again the officer chuckled. It was evident that he was well pleasedwith his own ingenuity. 

"Nowhere yet, " he said at last. "But, just about the time he's startingfor the West I'll have her down at Headquarters. Demarest will haveher indicted before noon. She'll go for trial in the afternoon. Andto-morrow night she'll be sleeping up the river.... That's where she isgoing. "

Gilder stood motionless for a moment. After all, he was an ordinarycitizen, quite unfamiliar with the recondite methods familiar to thepolice. 

"But, " he said, wonderingly, "you can't do that. "

The Inspector laughed, a laugh of disingenuous amusement, for heunderstood perfectly the lack of comprehension on the part of hishearer. 

"Well, " he said, and his voice sank into a modest rumble that wasnone the less still thunderous. "Perhaps I can't!" And then he beamedbroadly, his whole face smiling blandly on the man who doubted hispower. "Perhaps I can't, " he repeated. Then the chuckle came again, andhe added emphatically: "But I will!" Suddenly, his heavy face grew hard. His alert eyes shone fiercely, with a flash of fire that was knownto every patrolman who had ever reported to the desk when he waslieutenant. His heavy jaw shot forward aggressively as he spoke. 

"Think I'm going to let that girl make a joke of the Police Department?Why, I'm here to get her--to stop her anyhow. Her gang is going to breakinto your house to-night. "

"What?" Gilder demanded. "You mean, she's coming here as a thief?"

"Not exactly, " Inspector Burke confessed, "but her pals are coming totry to pull off something right here. She wouldn't come, not if Iknow her. She's too clever for that. Why, if she knew what Garson wasplanning to do, she'd stop him. "

The Inspector paused suddenly. For a long minute his face was seamedwith thought. Then, he smote his thigh with a blow strong enough to killan ox. His face was radiant. 

"By God! I've got her!" he cried. The inspiration for which he hadlonged was his at last. He went to the desk where the telephone was, andtook up the receiver. 

"Give me 3100 Spring, " he said. As he waited for the connection hesmiled widely on the astonished Gilder. "'Tain't too late, " he saidjoyously. "I must have been losing my mind not to have thought of itbefore. " The impact of sounds on his ear from the receiver set him toattention. 

"Headquarters?" he called. "Inspector Burke speaking. Who's in myoffice? I want him quick. " He smiled as he listened, and he spoke againto Gilder. "It's Smith, the best man I have. That's luck, if you askme. " Then again he spoke into the mouthpiece of the telephone. 

"Oh, Ed, send some one up to that Turner woman. You have the address. Just see that she is tipped off, that Joe Garson and some pals are goingto break into Edward Gilder's house to-night. Get some stool-pigeonto hand her the information. You'd better get to work damned quick. Understand?"

The Inspector pulled out that watch of which Aggie Lynch had spoken soavariciously, and glanced at it, then went on speaking:

"It's ten-thirty now. She went to the Lyric Theater with some woman. Gether as she leaves, or find her back at her own place later. You'll haveto hustle, anyhow. That's all!"

The Inspector hung up the receiver and faced his host with a contentedsmile. 

"What good will all that do?" Gilder demanded, impatiently. 

Burke explained with a satisfaction natural to one who had devisedsomething ingenious and adequate. This inspiration filled him withdelight. At last he was sure of catching Mary Turner herself in histoils. 

"She'll come to stop 'em, " he said. "When we get the rest of the gang, we'll grab her, too. Why, I almost forgot her, thinking about Garson. Mr. Gilder, you would hardly believe it, but there's scarcely been areal bit of forgery worth while done in this country for the last twentyyears, that Garson hasn't been mixed up in. We've never once got himright in all that time. " The Inspector paused to chuckle. "Crooks arefunny, " he explained with obvious contentment. "Clever as he is, Garsonlet Griggs talk him into a second-story job, and now we'll get him withthe goods.... Just call your man for a minute, will you, Mr. Gilder?"

Gilder pressed the electric button on his desk. At the same moment, through the octagonal window came a blinding flash of light thatrested for seconds, then vanished. Burke, by no means a nervous man, nevertheless was startled by the mysterious radiance. 

"What's that?" he demanded, sharply. 

"It's the flashlight from the Metropolitan Tower, " Gilder explained witha smile over the policeman's perturbation. "It swings around this wayabout every fifteen minutes. The servant forgot to draw the curtains. "As he spoke, he went to the window, and pulled the heavy draperiesclose. "It won't bother us again. "

The entrance of the butler brought the Inspector's thoughts back to thematter in hand. 

"My man, " he said, authoritatively, "I want you to go up to the roof andopen the scuttle. You'll find some men waiting up there. Bring 'em downhere. "

The servant's usually impassive face showed astonishment, not unmixedwith dismay, and he looked doubtfully toward his master, who noddedreassuringly. 

"Oh, they won't hurt you, " the Inspector declared, as he noticed theman's hesitation. "They're police officers. You get 'em down here, andthen you go to bed and stay there till morning. Understand?"

Again, the butler looked at his master for guidance in this verypeculiar affair, as he deemed it. Receiving another nod, he said:

"Very well, sir. " He regarded the Inspector with a certain helplessindignation over this disturbance of the natural order, and left theroom. 

Gilder himself was puzzled over the situation, which was by no meansclear to him. 

"How do you know they're going to break into the house to-night?" hedemanded of Burke; "or do you only think they're going to break into thehouse?"

"I know they are. " The Inspector's harsh voice brought out the wordsboastfully. "I fixed it. "

"You did!" There was wonder in the magnate's exclamation. 

"Sure, " Burke declared complacently, "did it through a stool-pigeon. "

"Oh, an informer, " Gilder interrupted, a little doubtfully. 

"Yes, " Burke agreed. "Stool-pigeon is the police name for him. Really, he's the vilest thing that crawls. "

"But, if you think that, " Gilder expostulated, "why do you have anythingto do with that sort of person?"

"Because it's good business, " the Inspector replied. "We know he's a spyand a traitor, and that every time he comes near us we ought to use adisinfectant. But we deal with him just the same--because we have to. Now, the stool-pigeon in this trick is a swell English crook. He wentto Garson yesterday with a scheme to rob your house. He tried out MaryTurner, too, but she wouldn't stand for it--said it would break the law, which is contrary to her principles. She told Garson to leave it alone. But he met Griggs afterward without her knowing anything about it, andthen he agreed to pull it off. Griggs got word to me that it's comingoff to-night. And so, you see, Mr. Gilder, that's how I know. Do you getme?"

"I see, " Gilder admitted without any enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, hefelt somewhat offended that his house should be thus summarily seized asa trap for criminals. 

"But why do you have your men come down over the roof?" he inquiredcuriously. 

"It wasn't safe to bring them in the front way, " was the Inspector'sprompt reply. "It's a cinch the house is being watched. I wish you wouldlet me have your latch-key. I want to come back, and make this collarmyself. "

The owner of the house obediently took the desired key from his ring andgave it to the Inspector with a shrug of resignation. 

"But, why not stay, now that you are here?" he asked. 

"Huh!" Burke retorted. "Suppose some of them saw me come in? Therewouldn't be anything doing until after they see me go out again. "

The hall door opened and the butler reentered the room. Behind him cameCassidy and two other detectives in plain clothes. At a word from hismaster, the disturbed Thomas withdrew with the intention of obeyingthe Inspector's directions that he should retire to bed and stay there, carefully avoiding whatever possibilities of peril there might be in thesituation so foreign to his ideals of propriety. 

"Now, " Burke went on briskly, as the door closed behind the servant, "where could these men stay out of sight until they're needed?"

There followed a little discussion which ended in the selection of astore-room at the end of the passage on the ground floor, on which oneof the library doors opened. 

"You see, " Burke explained to Gilder, when this matter had been settledto his satisfaction, and while Cassidy and the other detectives wereout of the library on a tour of inspection, "you must have things right, when it comes to catching crooks on a frame-up like this. I had thesemen come to Number Twenty-six on the other street, then round the blockon the roofs. "

Gilder nodded appreciation which was not actually sincere. It seemed tohim that such elaborate manoeuvering was, in truth, rather absurd. 

"And now, Mr. Gilder, " the Inspector said energetically, "I'm going togive you the same tip I gave your man. Go to bed, and stay there. "

"But the boy, " Gilder protested. "What about him? He's the one thing ofimportance to me. "

"If he says anything more about going to Chicago--just you let him go, that's all! It's the best place for him for the next few days. I'll getin touch with you in the morning and let you know then how things arecoming out. "

Gilder sighed resignedly. His heavy face was lined with anxiety. Therewas a hesitation in his manner of speech that was wholly unlike itsusual quick decisiveness. 

"I don't like this sort of thing, " he said, doubtfully. "I let you goahead because I can't suggest any alternative, but I don't like it, not at all. It seems to me that other methods might be employed withexcellent results without the element of treachery which seems toinvolve me as well as you in our efforts to overcome this woman. "

Burke, however, had no qualms as to such plotting. 

"You must have crooked ways to catch crooks, believe me, " he saidcheerfully. "It's the easiest and quickest way out of the trouble forus, and the easiest and quickest way into trouble for them. "

The return of the detectives caused him to break off, and he gave hisattention to the final arrangements of his men. 

"You're in charge here, " he said to Cassidy, "and I hold youresponsible. Now, listen to this, and get it. " His coarse voice camewith a grating note of command. "I'm coming back to get this bunchmyself, and I'll call you when you're wanted. You'll wait in thestore-room out there and don't make a move till you hear from me, unlessby any chance things go wrong and you get a call from Griggs. You knowwho he is. He's got a whistle, and he'll use it if necessary.... Gotthat straight?" And, when Cassidy had declared an entire understandingof the directions given, he concluded concisely. "On your way, then!"

As the men left the room, he turned again to Gilder. 

"Just one thing more, " he said. "I'll have to have your help a littlelonger. After I've gone, I want you to stay up for a half-hour anyhow, with the lights burning. Do you see? I want to be sure to give theTurner woman time to get here while that gang is at work. Your keepingon the lights will hold them back, for they won't come in till the houseis dark, so, in half an hour you can get off the job, switch off thelights and go to bed and stay there--just as I told you before. " ThenInspector Burke, having in mind the great distress of the man over theunfortunate entanglement of his son, was at pains to offer a reassuringword. 

"Don't worry about the boy, " he said, with grave kindliness. "We'll gethim out of this scrape all right. " And with the assertion he bustledout, leaving the unhappy father to miserable forebodings. 

CHAPTER XVII. OUTSIDE THE LAW. 

Gilder scrupulously followed the directions of the Police Inspector. Uneasily, he had remained in the library until the allotted time waselapsed. He fidgeted from place to place, his mind heavy with distressunder the shadow that threatened to blight the life of his cherishedson. Finally, with a sense of relief he put out the lights and went tohis chamber. But he did not follow the further directions given him, forhe was not minded to go to bed. Instead, he drew the curtains closelyto make sure that no gleam of light could pass them, and then sat with acigar between his lips, which he did not smoke, though from time to timehe was at pains to light it. His thoughts were most with his son, andever as he thought of Dick, his fury waxed against the woman who hadenmeshed the boy in her plotting for vengeance on himself. And into histhoughts now crept a doubt, one that alarmed his sense of justice. Itoccurred to him that this woman could not have thus nourished a plan forretribution through the years unless, indeed, she had been insane, evenas he had claimed--or innocent! The idea was appalling. He could notbear to admit the possibility of having been the involuntary inflicterof such wrong as to send the girl to prison for an offense she had notcommitted. He rejected the suggestion, but it persisted. He knew theclean, wholesome nature of his son. It seemed to him incredible thatthe boy could have thus given his heart to one altogether undeserving. A horrible suspicion that he had misjudged Mary Turner crept into hisbrain, and would not out. He fought it with all the strength of him, and that was much, but ever it abode there. He turned for comfort to thethings Burke had said. The woman was a crook, and there was an endof it. Her ruse of spoliation within the law was evidence of hershrewdness, nothing more. 

Mary Turner herself, too, was in a condition utterly wretched, and forthe same cause--Dick Gilder. That source of the father's suffering washers as well. She had won her ambition of years, revenge on the man whohad sent her to prison. And now the joy of it was a torture, for thepuppet of her plans, the son, had suddenly become the chief thing in herlife. She had taken it for granted that he would leave her after he cameto know that her marriage to him was only a device to bring shame onhis father. Instead, he loved her. That fact seemed the secret of herdistress. He loved her. More, he dared believe, and to assert boldly, that she loved him. Had he acted otherwise, the matter would have beensimple enough.... But he loved her, loved her still, though he knew theshame that had clouded her life, knew the motive that had led her toaccept him as a husband. More--by a sublime audacity, he declared thatshe loved him. 

There came a thrill in her heart each time she thought of that--thatshe loved him. The idea was monstrous, of course, and yet---- Here, as always, she broke off, a hot flush blazing in her cheeks.... Nevertheless, such curious fancies pursued her through the hours. Shestrove her mightiest to rid herself of them, but in vain. Ever theypersisted. She sought to oust them by thinking of any one else, ofAggie, of Joe. There at last was satisfaction. Her interference betweenthe man who had saved her life and the temptation of the English crookhad prevented a dangerous venture, which might have meant ruin to theone whom she esteemed for his devotion to her, if for no other reason. At least, she had kept him from the outrageous folly of an ordinaryburglary. 

Mary Turner was just ready for bed after her evening at the theater, when she was rudely startled out of this belief. A note came by amessenger who waited for no answer, as he told the yawning maid. As Maryread the roughly scrawled message, she was caught in the grip of terror. Some instinct warned her that this danger was even worse than it seemed. The man who had saved her from death had yielded to temptation. Evennow, he was engaged in committing that crime which she had forbiddenhim. As he had saved her, so she must save him. She hurried into thegown she had just put off. Then she went to the telephone-book andsearched for the number of Gilder's house. 

 * * * * *

It was just a few moments before Mary Turner received the note from thehands of the sleepy maid that one of the leaves of the octagonal windowin the library of Richard Gilder's town house swung open, under thepersuasive influence of a thin rod of steel, cunningly used, and JoeGarson stepped confidently into the dark room. 

A faint radiance of moonlight from without showed him for a second as hepassed between the heavy draperies. Then these fell into place, and hewas invisible, and soundless as well. For a space, he rested motionless, listening intently. Reassured, he drew out an electric torch and set itglowing. A little disc of light touched here and there about the room, traveling very swiftly, and in methodical circles. Satisfied by thesurvey, Garson crossed to the hall door. He moved with alert assurance, lithely balanced on the balls of his feet, noiselessly. At the hall doorhe listened for any sound of life without, and found none. The door intothe passage that led to the store-room where the detectives waited nextengaged his business-like attention. And here, again, there was naughtto provoke his suspicion. 

These preliminaries taken as measures of precaution, Garson went boldlyto the small table that stood behind the couch, turned the button, and the soft glow of an electric lamp illumined the apartment. Theextinguished torch was thrust back into his pocket. Afterward he carriedone of the heavy chairs to the door of the passage and propped itagainst the panel in such wise that its fall must give warning as to theopening of the door. His every action was performed with the maximum ofspeed, with no least trace of flurry or of nervous haste. It was evidentthat he followed a definite program, the fruit of precise thought guidedby experience. 

It seemed to him that now everything was in readiness for the coming ofhis associates in the commission of the crime. There remained only togive them the signal in the room around the corner where they waited ata telephone. He seated himself in Gilder's chair at the desk, and drewthe telephone to him. 

"Give me 999 Bryant, " he said. His tone was hardly louder than awhisper, but spoken with great distinctness. 

There was a little wait. Then an answer in a voice he knew came over thewire. 

But Garson said nothing more. Instead, he picked up a penholder fromthe tray on the desk, and began tapping lightly on the rim of thetransmitter. It was a code message in Morse. In the room around thecorner, the tapping sounded clearly, ticking out the message that theway was free for the thieves' coming. 

When Garson had made an end of the telegraphing, there came a briefanswer in like Morse, to which he returned a short direction. 

For a final safeguard, Garson searched for and found the telephonebell-box on the surbase below the octagonal window. It was the work ofonly a few seconds to unscrew the bells, which he placed on the desk. So simply he made provision against any alarm from this source. He thentook his pistol from his hip-pocket, examined it to make sure thatthe silencer was properly adjusted, and then thrust it into the rightside-pocket of his coat, ready for instant use in desperate emergency. Once again, now, he produced the electric torch, and lighted it as heextinguished the lamp on the table. 

Forthwith, Garson went to the door into the hall, opened it, and, leaving it ajar, made his way in silence to the outer doorway. Presently, the doors there were freed of their bolts under his skilledfingers, and one of them swung wide. He had put out the torch now, lestits gleam might catch the gaze of some casual passer-by. So nicely hadthe affair been timed that hardly was the door open before the threemen slipped in, and stood mute and motionless in the hall, while Garsonrefastened the doors. Then, a pencil of light traced the length of thehallway and Garson walked quickly back to the library. Behind him withsteps as noiseless as his own came the three men to whom he had justgiven the message. 

When all were gathered in the library, Garson shut the hall door, touched the button in the wall beside it, and the chandelier threw itsradiant light on the group. 

Griggs was in evening clothes, seeming a very elegant young gentlemanindeed, but his two companions were of grosser type, as far asappearances went: one, Dacey, thin and wiry, with a ferret face; theother, Chicago Red, a brawny ruffian, whose stolid features neverthelessexhibited something of half-sullen good nature. 

"Everything all right so far, " Garson said rapidly. He turned to Griggsand pointed toward the heavy hangings that shrouded the octagonalwindow. "Are those the things we want?" he demanded. 

"Yes, " was the answer of English Eddie. 

"Well, then, we've got to get busy, " Garson went on. His alert, strong face was set in lines of eagerness that had in it something offierceness now. 

But, before he could add a direction, he was halted by a soft buzzingfrom the telephone, which, though bell-less, still gave this faintwarning of a call. For an instant, he hesitated while the othersregarded him doubtfully. The situation offered perplexities. To give noattention to the summons might be perilous, and failure to respond mightprovoke investigation in some urgent matter; to answer it might easilyprovide a larger danger. 

"We've got to take a chance. " Garson spoke his decision curtly. He wentto the desk and put the receiver to his ear. 

There came again the faint tapping of some one at the other end of theline, signaling a message in the Morse code. An expression of blankamazement, which grew in a flash to deep concern, showed on Garson'sface as he listened tensely. 

"Why, this is Mary calling, " he muttered. 

"Mary!" Griggs cried. His usual vacuity of expression was cast off likea mask and alarm twisted his features. Then, in the next instant, acrafty triumph gleamed from his eyes. 

"Yes, she's on, " Garson interpreted, a moment later, as the tappingceased for a little. He translated in a loud whisper as the irregularticking noise sounded again. 

"I shall be there at the house almost at once. I am sending this messagefrom the drug store around the corner. Have some one open the door forme immediately. "

"She's coming over, " Griggs cried incredulously. 

"No, I'll stop her, " Garson declared firmly. 

"Right! Stop her, " Chicago Red vouchsafed. 

But, when, after tapping a few words, the forger paused for the reply, no sound came. 

"She don't answer, " he exclaimed, greatly disconcerted. He tried again, still without result. At that, he hung up the receiver with a groan. "She's gone----"

"On her way already, " Griggs suggested, and there was none to doubt thatit was so. 

"What's she coming here for?" Garson exclaimed harshly. "This ain't noplace for her! Why, if anything should go wrong now----"

But Griggs interrupted him with his usual breezy cheerfulness of manner. 

"Oh, nothing can go wrong now, old top. I'll let her in. " He drew asmall torch from the skirt-pocket of his coat and crossed to the halldoor, as Garson nodded assent. 

"God! Why did she have to come?" Garson muttered, filled withforebodings. "If anything should go wrong now!"

He turned back toward the door just as it opened, and Mary darted intothe room with Griggs following. "What do you want here?" he demanded, with peremptory savageness in his voice, which was a tone he had neverhitherto used in addressing her. 

Mary went swiftly to face Garson where he stood by the desk, whileGriggs joined the other two men who stood shuffling about uneasily bythe fireplace, at a loss over this intrusion on their scheme. Mary movedwith a lissome grace like that of some wild creature, but as she haltedopposite the man who had given her back the life she would have thrownaway, there was only tender pleading in her voice, though her words werean arraignment. 

"Joe, you lied to me. "

"That can be settled later, " the man snapped. His jaw was thrust forwardobstinately, and his clear eyes sparkled defiantly. 

"You are fools, all of you!" Mary cried. Her eyes darkened and distendedwith fear. They darted from Garson to the other three men, and backagain in rebuke. "Yes, fools! This is burglary. I can't protect you ifyou are caught. How can I? Oh, come!" She held out her hands pleadinglytoward Garson, and her voice dropped to beseeching. "Joe, Joe, you mustget away from this house at once, all of you. Joe, make them go. "

"It's too late, " was the stern answer. There was no least relaxation inthe stubborn lines of his face. "We're here now, and we'll stay till thebusiness is done. "

Mary went a step forward. The cloak she was wearing was thrown back byher gesture of appeal so that those watching saw the snowy slope of theshoulders and the quick rise and fall of the gently curving bosom. Thebeautiful face within the framing scarf was colorless with a great fear, save only the crimson lips, of which the bow was bent tremulously as shespoke her prayer. 

"Joe, for my sake!"

But the man was inexorable. He had set himself to this thing, and eventhe urging of the one person in the world for whom he most cared waspowerless against his resolve. 

"I can't quit now until we've got what we came here after, " he declaredroughly. 

Of a sudden, the girl made shift to employ another sort of supplication. 

"But there are reasons, " she said, faltering. A certain embarrassmentswept her, and the ivory of her cheeks bloomed rosily. "I--I can't haveyou rob this house, this particular house of all the world. " Her eyesleaped from the still obdurate face of the forger to the group of threeback of him. Her voice was shaken with a great dread as she called outto them. 

"Boys, let's get away! Please, oh, please! Joe, for God's sake!" Hertone was a sob. 

Her anguish of fear did not swerve Garson from his purpose. 

"I'm going to see this through, " he said, doggedly. 

"But, Joe----"

"It's settled, I tell you. "

In the man's emphasis the girl realized at last the inefficacy of herefforts to combat his will. She seemed to droop visibly before theireyes. Her head sank on her breast. Her voice was husky as she tried tospeak. 

"Then----" She broke off with a gesture of despair, and turned awaytoward the door by which she had entered. 

But, with a movement of great swiftness, Garson got in front of her, and barred her going. For a few seconds the two stared at each othersearchingly as if learning new and strange things, each of the other. Inthe girl's expression was an outraged wonder and a great terror. In theman's was a half-shamed pride, as if he exulted in the strength withwhich he had been able to maintain his will against her supreme effortto overthrow it. 

"You can't go, " Garson said sharply. "You might be caught. "

"And if I were, " Mary demanded in a flash of indignation, "do you thinkI'd tell?"

There came an abrupt change in the hard face of the man. Into thepiercing eyes flamed a softer fire of tenderness. The firm mouth grewstrangely gentle as he replied, and his voice was overtoned with faith. 

"Of course not, Mary, " he said. "I know you. You would go up for lifefirst. "

Then again his expression became resolute, and he spoke imperiously. 

"Just the same, you can't take any chances. We'll all get away in aminute, and you'll come with us. " He turned to the men and spoke withswift authority. 

"Come, " he said to Dacey, "you get to the light switch there by the halldoor. If you hear me snap my fingers, turn 'em off. Understand?"

With instant obedience, the man addressed went to his station by thehall door, and stood ready to control the electric current. 

The distracted girl essayed one last plea. The momentary softening ofGarson had given her new courage. 

"Joe, don't do this. "

"You can't stop it now, Mary, " came the brisk retort. "Too late. You'reonly wasting time, making it dangerous for all of us. "

Again he gave his attention to carrying on the robbery. 

"Red, " he ordered, "you get to that door. " He pointed to the one thatgave on the passageway against which he had set the chair tilted. As theman obeyed, Garson gave further instructions. 

"If any one comes in that way, get him and get him quick. Youunderstand? Don't let him cry out. "

Chicago Red grinned with cheerful acceptance of the issue in such anencounter. He held up his huge hand, widely open. 

"Not a chance, " he declared, proudly, "with that over his mug. " To avoidpossible interruption of his movements in an emergency, he removed thechair Garson had placed and set it to one side, out of the way. 

"Now, let's get to work, " Garson continued eagerly. Mary spoke with thebitterness of defeat. 

"Listen, Joe! If you do this, I'm through with you. I quit. "

Garson was undismayed by the threat. 

"If this goes through, " he countered, "we'll all quit. That's why I'mdoing it. I'm sick of the game. "

He turned to the work in hand with increased energy. 

"Come, you, Griggs and Red, and push that desk down a bit so that I canstand on it. " The two men bent to the task, heedless of Mary's franticprotest. 

"No! no! no! no! no, Joe!"

Red, however, suddenly straightened from the desk and stood motionless, listening. He made a slight hissing noise that arrested the attention ofthe others and held them in moveless silence. 

"I hear something, " he whispered. He went to the keyhole of the doorleading into the passage. Then he whispered again, "And it's coming thisway. "

At the words, Garson snapped his fingers. The room was plunged indarkness. 

CHAPTER XVIII. THE NOISELESS DEATH. 

There was absolute silence in the library after the turning of theswitch that brought the pall of darkness. Long seconds passed, then alittle noise--the knob of the passage door turning. As the door swungopen, there came a gasping breath from Mary, for she saw framed in thefaint light that came from the single burner in the corridor the slenderform of her husband, Dick Gilder. In the next instant he had steppedwithin the room and pulled to the door behind him. And in that sameinstant Chicago Red had pounced on his victim, the huge hand clappedtight over the young man's mouth. Even as his powerful arm held thenewcomer in an inescapable embrace, there came a sound of scuffling feetand that was all. Finally the big man's voice came triumphantly. 

"I've got him. "

"It's Dick!" The cry came as a wail of despair from the girl. 

At the same moment, Garson flashed his torch, and the light fellswiftly on young Gilder, bowed to a kneeling posture before the couch, half-throttled by the strength of Chicago Red. Close beside him, Marylooked down in wordless despair over this final disaster of the night. There was silence among the men, all of whom save the captor himselfwere gathered near the fireplace. 

Garson retired a step farther before he spoke his command, so that, though he held the torch still, he like the others was in shadow. OnlyMary was revealed clearly as she bent in alarm toward the man she hadmarried. It was borne in on the forger's consciousness that the face ofthe woman leaning over the intruder was stronger to hold the prisonerand to prevent any outcry than the might of Chicago Red himself, and sohe gave the order. 

"Get away, Red. "

The fellow let go his grip obediently enough, though with a trifle ofregret, since he gloried in his physical prowess. 

Thus freed of that strangling embrace, Dick stumbled blindly to hisfeet. Then, mechanically, his hand went to the lamp on the table backof the couch. In the same moment Garson snapped his torch to darkness. When, after a little futile searching, Dick finally found the catch, andthe mellow streamed forth, he uttered an ejaculation of stark amazement, for his gaze was riveted on the face of the woman he loved. 

"Good God!" It was a cry of torture wrung from his soul of souls. 

Mary swayed toward him a little, palpitant with fear--fear for herself, for all of them, most of all for him. 

"Hush! hush!" she panted warningly. "Oh, Dick, you don't understand. "

Dick's hand was at his throat. It was not easy for him to speak yet. Hehad suffered severely in the process of being throttled, and, too, hewas in the clutch of a frightful emotion. To find her, his wife, in thisplace, in such company--her, the woman whom he loved, whom, in spiteof everything, he had honored, the woman to whom he had given his name!Mary here! And thus!

"I understand this, " he said brokenly at last. "Whether you ever did itbefore or not, this time you have broken the law. " A sudden inspirationon his own behalf came to him. For his love's sake, he must seize onthis opportunity given of fate to him for mastery. He went on with a newvehemence of boldness that became him well. 

"You're in my hands now. So are these men as well. Unless you do as Isay, Mary, I'll jail every one of them. "

Mary's usual quickness was not lacking even now, in this period ofextremity. Her retort was given without a particle of hesitation. 

"You can't, " she objected with conviction. "I'm the only one you'veseen. "

"That's soon remedied, " Dick declared. He turned toward the hall door asif with the intention of lighting the chandelier. 

But Mary caught his arm pleadingly. 

"Don't, Dick, " she begged. "It's--it's not safe. "

"I'm not afraid, " was his indignant answer. He would have gone on, butshe clung the closer. He was reluctant to use over-much force againstthe one whom he cherished so fondly. 

There came a diversion from the man who had made the capture, who wasmightily wondering over the course of events, which was wholly unlikeanything in the whole of his own rather extensive housebreakingexperience. 

"Who's this, anyhow?" Chicago Red demanded. 

There was a primitive petulance in his drawling tones. 

Dick answered with conciseness enough. 

"I'm her husband. Who are you?"

Mary called a soft admonition. 

"Don't speak, any of you, " she directed. "You mustn't let him hear yourvoices. "

Dick was exasperated by this persistent identification of herself withthese criminals in his father's house. 

"You're fighting me like a coward, " he said hotly. His voice was bitter. The eyes that had always been warm in their glances on her were chillnow. He turned a little way from her, as if in instinctive repugnance. "You are taking advantage of my love. You think that because of it Ican't make a move against these men. Now, listen to me, I----"

"I won't!" Mary cried. Her words were shrill with mingled emotions. "There's nothing to talk about, " she went on wildly. "There never can bebetween you and me. "

The young man's voice came with a sonorous firmness that was new toit. In these moments, the strength of him, nourished by suffering, wasputting forth its flower. His manner was masterful. 

"There can be and there will be, " he contradicted. He raised his voice alittle, speaking into the shadows where was the group of silent men. 

"You men back there!" he cried. "If I give you my word to let every oneof you go free and pledge myself never to recognize one of you again, will you make Mary here listen to me? That's all I ask. I want a fewminutes to state my case. Give me that. Whether I win or lose, you mengo free, and I'll forget everything that has happened here to-night. "There came a muffled guffaw of laughter from the big chest of ChicagoRed at this extraordinarily ingenuous proposal, while Dacey chuckledmore quietly. 

Dick made a gesture of impatience at this open derision. 

"Tell them I can be trusted, " he bade Mary curtly. 

It was Garson who answered. 

"I know that you can be trusted, " he said, "because I know you lo----"He checked himself with a shiver, and out of the darkness his faceshowed white. 

"You must listen, " Dick went on, facing again toward the girl, who wastrembling before him, her eyes by turns searching his expressionor downcast in unfamiliar confusion, which she herself could hardlyunderstand. 

"Your safety depends on me, " the young man warned. "Suppose I shouldcall for help?"

Garson stepped forward threateningly. 

"You would only call once, " he said very gently, yet most grimly. Hishand went to the noiseless weapon in his coat-pocket. 

But the young man's answer revealed the fact that he, too, wasdetermined to the utmost, that he understood perfectly the situation. 

"Once would be quite enough, " he said simply. 

Garson nodded in acceptance of the defeat. It may be, too, that in somesubtle fashion he admired this youth suddenly grown resolute, competentto control a dangerous event. There was even the possibility that someinstinct of tenderness toward Mary herself made him desire that thisopportunity should be given for wiping out the effects of misfortunewhich fate hitherto had brought into her life. 

"You win, " Garson said, with a half-laugh. He turned to the other menand spoke a command. 

"You get over by the hall door, Red. And keep your ears open everysecond. Give us the office if you hear anything. If we're rushed, andhave to make a quick get-away, see that Mary has the first chance. Getthat, all of you?"

As Chicago Red took up his appointed station, Garson turned to Dick. 

"Make it quick, remember. "

He touched the other two and moved back to the wall by the fireplace, asfar as possible from the husband and wife by the couch. 

Dick spoke at once, with a hesitancy that betrayed the depth of hisemotion. 

"Don't you care for me at all?" he asked wistfully. 

The girl's answer was uttered with nervous eagerness which revealed herown stress of fear. 

"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, rebelliously. 

Now, however, the young man had regained some measure of reassurance. 

"I know you do, Mary, " he asserted, confidently; "a little, anyway. Why, Mary, " he went on reproachfully, "can't you see that you're throwingaway everything that makes life worth while? Don't you see that?"

There was no word from the girl. Her breast was moving convulsively. Sheheld her face steadfastly averted from the face of her husband. 

"Why don't you answer me?" he insisted. 

Mary's reply came with all the coldness she could command. 

"That was not in the bargain, " Mary said, indifferently. 

The man's voice grew tenderly winning, persuasive with the longing of alover, persuasive with the pity of the righteous for the sinner. 

"Mary, Mary!" he cried. "You've got to change. Don't be so hard. Givethe woman in you a chance. "

The girl's form became rigid as she fought for self-control. The pleatouched to the bottom of her heart, but she could not, would not yield. Her words rushed forth with a bitterness that was the cover of herdistress. 

"I am what I am, " she said sharply. "I can't change. Keep your promise, now, and let's get out of this. "

Her assertion was disregarded as to the inability to change. 

"You can change, " Dick went on impetuously. "Mary, haven't you everwanted the things that other women have, shelter, and care, and the bigthings of life, the things worth while? They're all ready for you, now, Mary.... And what about me?" Reproach leaped in his tone. "After all, you've married me. Now it's up to you to give me my chance to make good. I've never amounted to much. I've never tried much. I shall, now, if youwill have it so, Mary; if you'll help me. I will come out all right, Iknow that--so do you, Mary. Only, you must help me. "

"I help you!" The exclamation came from the girl in a note ofincredulous astonishment. 

"Yes, " Dick said, simply. "I need you, and you need me. Come away withme. "

"No, no!" was the broken refusal. There was a great grief clutching atthe soul of this woman who had brought vengeance to its full flower. She was gasping. "No, no! I married you, not because I loved you, but torepay your father the wrong he had done me. I wouldn't let myself eventhink of you, and then--I realized that I had spoiled your life. "

"No, not spoiled it, Mary! Blessed it! We must prove that yet. "

"Yes, spoiled it, " the wife went on passionately. "If I had understood, if I could have dreamed that I could ever care---- Oh, Dick, I wouldnever have married you for anything in the world. "

"But now you do realize, " the young man said quietly. "The thing isdone. If we made a mistake, it is for us to bring happiness out of thaterror. "

"Oh, can't you see?" came the stricken lament. "I'm a jail-bird!"

"But you love me--you do love me, I know!" The young man spoke withjoyous certainty, for some inflection of her voice had told the truthto his heart. Nothing else mattered. "But now, to come back to this holewe're in here. Don't you understand, at last, that you can't beat thelaw? If you're caught here to-night, where would you get off--caughthere with a gang of burglars? Tell me, dear, why did you do it? Whydidn't you protect yourself? Why didn't you go to Chicago as youplanned?"

"What?" There was a new quality in Mary's voice. A sudden throb of shockmasked in the surface indifference of intonation. 

Dick repeated his question, unobservant of its first effect. 

"Why didn't you go to Chicago as you had planned?"

"Planned? With whom?" The interrogation came with an abrupt force thatcried of new suspicions. 

"Why, with Burke. " The young man tried to be patient over her density inthis time of crisis. 

"Who told you that I had arranged any such thing?" Mary asked. Now thetenseness in her manner got the husband's attention, and he replied witha sudden gravity, apprehensive of he knew not what. 

"Burke himself did. "

"When?" Mary was standing rigid now, and the rare color flamed in hercheeks. Her eyes were blazing. 

"Less than an hour ago. " He had caught the contagion of her mood andvague alarm swept him. 

"Where?" came the next question, still with that vital insistence. 

"In this room. "

"Burke was here?" Mary's voice was suddenly cold, very dangerous. "Whatwas he doing here?"

"Talking to my father. "

The seemingly simple answer appeared the last straw to the girl's burdenof frenzied suspicion. Her voice cut fiercely into the quiet of theroom, imperious, savage. 

"Joe, turn on that light! I want to see the face of every man in thisroom. "

Something fatally significant in her voice set Garson a-leap to theswitch, and, in the same second, the blaze of the chandelier flamedbrilliantly over all. The others stood motionless, blinking in thesudden radiance--all save Griggs, who moved stealthily in that samemoment, a little nearer the door into the passage, which was nearest tohim. 

But Mary's next words came wholly as a surprise, seemingly totallyirrelevant to this instant of crisis. Yet they rang a-throb with anhysterical anxiety. 

"Dick, " she cried, "what are those tapestries worth?" With the question, she pointed toward the draperies that shrouded the great octagonalwindow. 

The young man was plainly astonished, disconcerted as well by theobtrusion of a sordid detail into the tragedy of the time. 

"Why in the world do you----?" he began, impatiently. 

Mary stamped her foot angrily in protest against the delay. 

"Tell me--quick!" she commanded. The authority in her voice and mannerwas not to be gainsaid. 

Dick yielded sullenly. 

"Oh, two or three hundred dollars, I suppose, " he answered. "Why?"

"Never mind that!" Mary exclaimed, violently. And now the girl's voicecame stinging like a whiplash. In Garson's face, too, was growing fury, for in an instant of illumination he guessed something of the truth. Mary's next question confirmed his raging suspicion. 

"How long have you had them, Dick?"

By now, the young man himself sensed the fact that somethingmysteriously baneful lay behind the frantic questioning on thisseemingly trivial theme. 

"Ever since I can remember, " he replied, promptly. 

Mary's voice came then with an intonation that brought enlightenmentnot only to Garson's shrewd perceptions, but also to the heavierintelligences of Dacey and of Chicago Red. 

"And they're not famous masterpieces which your father bought recently, from some dealer who smuggled them into this country?" So simple werethe words of her inquiry, but under them beat something evil, deadly. 

The young man laughed contemptuously. 

"I should say not!" he declared indignantly, for he resented theimplication against his father's honesty. 

"It's a trick! Burke's done it!" Mary's words came with accusingvehemence. 

There was another single step made by Griggs toward the door into thepassage. 

Mary's eye caught the movement, and her lips soundlessly formed thename:

"Griggs!"

The man strove to carry off the situation, though he knew well that hestood in mortal peril. He came a little toward the girl who had accusedhim of treachery. He was very dapper in his evening clothes, with hisrather handsome, well-groomed face set in lines of innocence. 

"He's lying to you!" he cried forcibly, with a scornful gesture towardDick Gilder. "I tell you, those tapestries are worth a million cold. "

Mary's answer was virulent in its sudden burst of hate. For once, themusic of her voice was lost in a discordant cry of detestation. 

"You stool-pigeon! You did this for Burke!"

Griggs sought still to maintain his air of innocence, and he strovewell, since he knew that he fought for his life against those whomhe had outraged. As he spoke again, his tones were tremulous withsincerity--perhaps that tremulousness was born chiefly of fear, yet tothe ear his words came stoutly enough for truth:

"I swear I didn't! I swear it!"

Mary regarded the protesting man with abhorrence. The perjured wretchshrank before the loathing in her eyes. 

"You came to me yesterday, " she said, with more of restraint in hervoice now, but still with inexorable rancor. "You came to me to explainthis plan. And you came from him--from Burke!"

"I swear I was on the level. I was tipped off to the story by a pal, "Griggs declared, but at last the assurance was gone out of his voice. Hefelt the hostility of those about him. 

Garson broke in ferociously. 

"It's a frame-up!" he said. His tones came in a deadened roar of wrath. 

On the instant, aware that further subterfuge could be of no avail, Griggs swaggered defiance. 

"And what if it is true?" he drawled, with a resumption of hisaristocratic manner, while his eyes swept the group balefully. Heplucked the police whistle from his waistcoat-pocket, and raised it tohis lips. 

He moved too slowly. In the same moment of his action, Garson had pulledthe pistol from his pocket, had pressed the trigger. There came no spurtof flame. There was no sound--save perhaps a faint clicking noise. Butthe man with the whistle at his lips suddenly ceased movement, stoodabsolutely still for the space of a breath. Then, he trembled horribly, and in the next instant crashed to the floor, where he lay rigid, dead. 

"Damn you--I've got you!" Garson sneered through clenched teeth. Hiseyes were like balls of fire. There was a frightful grin of triumphtwisting his mouth in this minute of punishment. 

In the first second of the tragedy, Dick had not understood. Indeed, hewas still dazed by the suddenness of it all. But the falling of Griggsbefore the leveled weapon of the other man, there to lie in that ghastlyimmobility, made him to understand. He leaped toward Garson--would havewrenched the pistol from the other's grasp. In the struggle, it fell tothe floor. 

Before either could pick it up, there came an interruption. Even in thestress of this scene, Chicago Red had never relaxed his professionalcaution. A slight noise had caught his ear, he had stooped, listening. Now, he straightened, and called his warning. 

"Somebody's opening the front door!"

Garson forgot his weapon in this new alarm. He sprang to the octagonalwindow, even as Dick took possession of the pistol. 

"The street's empty! We must jump for it!" His hate was forgotten nowin an emotion still deeper, and he turned to Mary. His face was allgentleness again, where just before it had been evil incarnate, aflamewith the lust to destroy. "Come on, Mary, " he cried. 

Already Chicago Red had snapped off the lights of the chandelier, hadsprung to the window, thrown open a panel of it, and had vanished intothe night, with Dacey at his heels. As Garson would have called out tothe girl again in mad anxiety for haste, he was interrupted by Dick:

"She couldn't make it, Garson, " he declared coolly and resolutely. "Yougo. It'll be all right, you know. I'll take care of her!"

"If she's caught----!" There was an indescribable menace in the forger'shalf-uttered threat. 

"She won't be. " The quality of sincerity in Dick's voice was moreconvincing than any vow might have been. 

"If she is, I'll get you, that's all, " Garson said gravely, as onestating a simple fact that could not be disputed. 

Then he glanced down at the body of the man whom he had done to death. 

"And you can tell that to Burke!" he said viciously to the dead. "Youdamned squealer!" There was a supremely malevolent content in his sneer. 

CHAPTER XIX. WITHIN THE TOILS. 

The going of Garson left the room deathly still. Dick stared for amoment at the space of window left uncovered by the draperies now, sincethe man had hurried past them, without pausing to draw them after him. Then, presently, the young man turned again to Mary, and took her handin his. The shock of the event had somehow steadied him, since it haddrawn his thoughts from that other more engrossing mood of concern overthe crisis in his own life. After all, what mattered the death of thiscrook? his fancy ran. The one thing of real worth in all the worldwas the life that remained to be lived between him and her.... Then, violently, the selfishness of his mood was made plain to him. For thehand he held was shaking like some slender-stalked lily in the clutchof the sirocco. Even as he first perceived the fact, he saw the girlstagger. His arm swept about her in a virile protecting embrace--just intime, or she would have fallen. 

A whisper came from her quivering lips. Her face was close to his, elsehe could not have caught the uncertain murmuring. That face now wasbecome ghastly pale. The violet eyes were widened and dull. The musclesof her face twitched. She rested supinely against him, as if bereft ofany strength of body or of soul. Yet, in the intensity of her utterance, the feeble whisper struck like a shriek of horror. 

"I--I--never saw any one killed before!"

The simple, grisly truth of the words--words that he might have spokenas well--stirred the man to the deeps of his being. He shuddered, ashe turned his eyes to avoid seeing the thing that lay so very near, mercifully merged within the shadows beyond the gentle radiance from thesingle lamp. With a pang of infinite pity for the woman in his arms, heapprehended in some degree the torture this event must have inflictedon her. Frightful to him, it must in truth be vastly worse to her. Therewas her womanly sensitiveness to enhance the innate hideousness of thething that had been done here before their eyes. There was, too, thefact that the murderer himself had been the man to whom she owed herlife. Yes, for him, Dick realized with poignant sympathy, the happeningthat night was terrible indeed: for her, as he guessed now at last, the torture must be something easily to overwhelm all her strength. Histouch on her grew tender beyond the ordinary tenderness of love, madegentler by a great underlying compassion for her misery. 

Dick drew Mary toward the couch, there let her sink down in a huddledattitude of despair. 

"I never saw a man--killed before!" she said again. There was a note ofhalf-hysterical, almost childish complaint in her voice. She movedher head a little, as if to look into the shadows where _it_ lay, then checked herself violently, and looked up at her husband with thepathetic simplicity of terror. 

"You know, Dick, " she repeated dully, "I never saw a man killed before. "

Before he could utter the soothing words that rose to his lips, Dick wasinterrupted by a slight sound at the door. Instantly, he was all alertto meet the exigencies of the situation. He stood by the couch, bendingforward a little, as if in a posture of intimate fondness. Then, witha new thought, he got out his cigarette-case and lighted a cigarette, after which he resumed his former leaning over the woman as would theardent lover. He heard the noise again presently, now so near thathe made sure of being overheard, so at once he spoke with a forcedcheerfulness in his inflection. 

"I tell you, Mary, " he declared, "everything's going to be all right foryou and me. It was bully of you to come here to me like this. "

The girl made no response. She lived still in the nightmare ofmurder--that nightmare wherein she had seen Griggs fall dead to thefloor. 

Dick, in nervous apprehension as to the issue, sought to bring her torealization of the new need that had come upon them. 

"Talk to me, " he commanded, very softly. "They'll be here in a minute. When they come in, pretend you just came here in order to meet me. Try, Mary. You must, dearest!" Then, again, his voice rose to loudness, as hecontinued. "Why, I've been trying all day to see you. And, now, here weare together, just as I was beginning to get really discouraged.... Iknow my father will eventually----"

He was interrupted by the swift swinging open of the hallway door. Burkestood just within the library, a revolver pointed menacingly. 

"Hands up!--all of you!" The Inspector's voice fairly roared thecommand. 

The belligerent expression of his face vanished abruptly, as his eyesfell on Dick standing by the couch and Mary reclining there in limphelplessness. His surprise would have been ludicrous but for theseriousness of the situation to all concerned. Burke's glance roved theroom sharply, and he was quickly convinced that these two were in factthe only present spoil of his careful plotting. His face set grimly, forthe disappointment of this minute surged fiercely within him. He startedto speak, his eyes lowering as he regarded the two before him. 

But Dick forestalled him. He spoke in a voice coldly repellent. 

"What are you doing in this house at this time of night?" he demanded. His manner was one of stern disapproval. "I recognize you, InspectorBurke. But you must understand that there are limits even to what youcan do. It seems to me, sir, that you exceed your authority by such anintrusion as this. "

Burke, however, was not a whit dismayed by the rebuke and the air ofrather contemptuous disdain with which it was uttered. He waved hisrevolver toward Mary, merely as a gesture of inquisitiveness, withoutany threat. 

"What's she doing here?" he asked. There was wrath in his rough voice, for he could not avoid the surmise that his shrewdly concocted scheme toentrap this woman had somehow been set awry. "What's she doing here, Isay?" he repeated heavily. His keen eyes were darting once more aboutthe room, questing some clue to this disturbing mystery, so hateful tohis pride. 

Dick's manner became that of the devoted husband offended by impertinentobtrusion. 

"You forget yourself, Inspector, " he said, icily. "This is my wife. Shehas the right to be with me--her husband!"

The Inspector grinned sceptically. He was moved no more effectively byMary's almost hysterical effort to respond to her husband's leading. 

"Why shouldn't I be here? Why? Why? I----"

Burke broke in on the girl's pitiful histrionics ruthlessly. He wasnot in the least deceived. He was aware that something untoward, as hedeemed it, had occurred. It seemed to him, in fact, that his finicalmechanisms for the undoing of Mary Turner were in a fair way to bethwarted. But he would not give up the cause without a struggle. Again, he addressed himself to Dick, disregarding completely the aloof mannerof the young man. 

"Where's your father?" he questioned roughly. 

"In bed, naturally, " was the answer. "I ask you again: What are youdoing here at this time of night?"

Burke shook his shoulders ponderously in a movement of impatience overthis prolonging of the farce. 

"Oh, call your father, " he directed disgustedly. 

Dick remonstrated with an excellent show of dignity. 

"It's late, " he objected. "I'd rather not disturb him, if you don'tmind. Really, the idea is absurd, you know. " Suddenly, he smiled verywinningly, and spoke with a good assumption of ingenuousness. 

"Inspector, " he said briskly, "I see, I'll have to tell you the truth. It's this: I've persuaded my wife to go away with me. She's going togive all that other sort of thing up. Yes, we're going away together. "There was genuine triumph in his voice now. "So, you see, we've gotto talk it over. Now, then, Inspector, if you'll come back in themorning----"

The official grinned sardonically. He could not in the least guess justwhat had in very deed happened, but he was far too clever a man to bebamboozled by Dick's maunderings. 

"Oh, that's it!" he exclaimed, with obvious incredulity. 

"Of course, " Dick replied bravely, though he knew that the Inspectordisbelieved his pretenses. Still, for his own part, he was inclinedas yet to be angry rather than alarmed by this failure to impress theofficer. "You see, I didn't know----"

And even in the moment of his saying, the white beam of the flashingsearchlight from the Tower fell between the undrawn draperies of theoctagonal window. The light startled the Inspector again, as it had doneonce before that same night. His gaze followed it instinctively. So, within the second, he saw the still form lying there on the floor--lyingwhere had been shadows, where now, for the passing of an instant, wasbrilliant radiance. 

There was no mistaking that awful, motionless, crumpled posture. TheInspector knew in this single instant of view that murder had been donehere. Even as the beam of light from the Tower shifted and vanished fromthe room, he leaped to the switch by the door, and turned on the lightsof the chandelier. In the next moment, he had reached the door of thepassage across the room, and his whistle sounded shrill. His voicebellowed reinforcement to the blast. 

"Cassidy! Cassidy!"

As Dick made a step toward his wife, from whom he had withdrawn a littlein his colloquy with the official, Burke voiced his command viciously:

"Stay where you are--both of you!"

Cassidy came rushing in, with the other detectives. He was plainlysurprised to find the room so nearly empty, where he had expected tobehold a gang of robbers. 

"Why, what's it all mean, Chief?" he questioned. His peering eyes fellon Dick, standing beside Mary, and they rounded in amazement. 

"They've got Griggs!" Burke answered. There was exceeding rage in hisvoice, as he spoke from his kneeling posture beside the body, to whichhe had hurried after the summons to his aides. He glowered up into thebewildered face of the detective. "I'll break you for this, Cassidy, "he declared fiercely. "Why didn't you get here on the run when you heardthe shot?"

"But there wasn't any shot, " the perplexed and alarmed detectiveexpostulated. He fairly stuttered in the earnestness of hisself-defense. "I tell you, Chief, there hasn't been a sound. "

Burke rose to his feet. His heavy face was set in its sternest mold. 

"You could drive a hearse through the hole they've made in him, " herumbled. He wheeled on Mary and Dick. "So!" he shouted, "now it'smurder!... Well, hand it over. Where's the gun?"

Followed a moment's pause. Then the Inspector spoke harshly to Cassidy. He still felt himself somewhat dazed by this extraordinary event, buthe was able to cope with the situation. He nodded toward Dick as he gavehis order: "Search him!"

Before the detective could obey the direction, Dick took the revolverfrom his pocket where he had bestowed it, and held it out. 

And it so chanced that at this incriminating crisis for the son, thefather hastily strode within the library. He had been aroused by theInspector's shouting, and was evidently greatly perturbed. His usualdignified air was marred by a patent alarm. 

"What's all this?" he exclaimed, as he halted and stared doubtfully onthe scene before him. 

Burke, in a moment like this, was no respecter of persons, for all hisjudicious attentions on other occasions to those whose influence mightserve him well for benefits received. 

"You can see for yourself, " he said grimly to the dumfounded magnate. Then, he fixed sinister eyes on the son. "So, " he went on, with sombermenace in his voice, "you did it, young man. " He nodded toward thedetective. "Well, Cassidy, you can take 'em both down-town.... That'sall. "

The command aroused Dick to remonstrance against such indignity towardthe woman whom he loved. 

"Not her!" he cried, imploringly. "You don't want her, Inspector! Thisis all wrong!"

Now, at last, Mary interposed with a new spirit. She had regained, in some measure at least, her poise. She was speaking again with thatmental clarity which was distinctive in her. 

"Dick, " she advised quietly, but with underlying urgency in her gentlyspoken words, "don't talk, please. "

Burke laughed harshly. 

"What do you expect?" he inquired truculently. "As a matter of fact, thething's simple enough, young man. Either you killed Griggs, or she did. "

The Inspector, with his charge, made a careless gesture toward thecorpse of the murdered stool-pigeon. For the first time, Edward Gilder, as his glance unconsciously followed the officer's movement, looked andsaw the ghastly inanimate heap of flesh and bone that had once been aman. He fairly reeled at the gruesome spectacle, then fumbled with anoutstretched hand as he moved stumblingly until he laid hold on a chair, into which he sank helplessly. It suddenly smote upon his consciousnessthat he felt very old and broken. He marveled dully over thesensation--it was wholly new to him. Then, soon, from a long way off, he heard the strident voice of the Inspector remorselessly continuingin the vile, the impossible accusation.... And that grotesque accusationwas hurled against his only son--the boy whom he so loved. The thingwas monstrous, a thing incredible. This whole seeming was no more thana chimera of the night, a phantom of bad dreams, with no truth underit.... Yet, the stern voice of the official came with a strangesemblance of reality. 

"Either you killed him, " the voice repeated gratingly, "or she did. Well, then, young man, did she kill him?"

"Good God, no!" Dick shouted, aghast. 

"Then, it was you!" Such was the Inspector's summary of the case. 

Mary's words came frantically. Once again, she was become desperate overthe course of events in this night of fearful happenings. 

"No, no! He didn't!"

Burke's rasping voice reiterated the accusation with a certaincomplacency in the inevitability of the dilemma. 

"One of you killed Griggs. Which one of you did it?" He scowled at Dick. "Did she kill him?"

Again, the husband's cry came with the fierceness of despair over thefate of the woman. 

"I told you, no!"

The Inspector, always savagely impressive now in voice and look andgesture, faced the girl with saturnine persistence. 

"Well, then, " he blustered, "did he kill him?"

The nod of his head was toward Dick. Then, as she remained silent: "I'mtalking to you!" he snapped. "Did he kill him?"

The reply came with a soft distinctness that was like a crash ofdestiny. 

"Yes. "

Dick turned to his wife in reproachful amazement. 

"Mary!" he cried, incredulously. This betrayal was somethinginconceivable from her, since he believed that now at last he knew herheart. 

Burke, however, as usual, paid no heed to the niceties of sentiment. They had small place in his concerns as an official of police. His soleambition just now was to fix the crime definitely on the perpetrator. 

"You'll swear he killed him?" he asked, briskly, well content with thisconcrete result of the entanglement. 

Mary subtly evaded the question, while seeming to give unqualifiedassent. 

"Why not?" she responded listlessly. 

At this intolerable assertion as he deemed it, Edward Gilder wasreanimated. He sat rigidly erect in his, chair. In that frightfulmoment, it came to him anew that here was in verity the last detail in aconsummate scheme by this woman for revenge against himself. 

"God!" he cried, despairingly. "And that's your vengeance!"

Mary heard, and understood. There came an inscrutable smile on hercurving lips, but there was no satisfaction in that smile, as of one whorealized the fruition of long-cherished schemes of retribution. Instead, there was only an infinite sadness, while she spoke very gently. 

"I don't want vengeance--now!" she said. 

"But they'll try my boy for murder, " the magnate remonstrated, distraught. 

"Oh, no, they can't!" came the rejoinder. And now, once again, therewas a hint of the quizzical creeping in the smile. "No, they can't!"she repeated firmly, and there was profound relief in her tones sinceat last her ingenuity had found a way out of this outrageous situationthrust on her and on her husband. 

Burke glared at the speaker in a rage that was abruptly grown suspiciousin some vague way. 

"What's the reason we can't?" he stormed. 

Mary sprang to her feet. She was radiant with a new serenity, now thather quick-wittedness had discovered a method for baffling the mesh ofevidence that had been woven about her and Dick through no faultof their own. Her eyes were glowing with even more than their usuallusters. Her voice came softly modulated, almost mocking. 

"Because you couldn't convict him, " she said succinctly. A contentedsmile bent the red graces of her lips. 

Burke sneered an indignation that was, nevertheless, somewhat fearful ofwhat might lie behind the woman's assurance. 

"What's the reason?" he demanded, scornfully. "There's the body. " Hepointed to the rigid form of the dead man, lying there so very nearthem. "And the gun was found on him. And then, you're willing to swearthat he killed him.... Well, I guess we'll convict him, all right. Whynot?"

Mary's answer was given quietly, but, none the less, with an assurancethat could not be gainsaid. 

"Because, " she said, "my husband merely killed a burglar. " In her turn, she pointed toward the body of the dead man. "That man, " she continuedevenly, "was the burglar. You know that! My husband shot him in defenseof his home!" There was a brief silence. Then, she added, with awonderful mildness in the music of her voice. "And so, Inspector, as youknow of course, he was within the law!"

CHAPTER XX. WHO SHOT GRIGGS?

In his office next morning, Inspector Burke was fuming over the failureof his conspiracy. He had hoped through this plot to vindicate hisauthority, so sadly flaunted by Garson and Mary Turner. Instead ofthis much-to-be-desired result from his scheming, the outcome had beennothing less than disastrous. The one certain fact was that his mostvaluable ally in his warfare against the criminals of the city had beendone to death. Some one had murdered Griggs, the stool-pigeon. WhereBurke had meant to serve a man of high influence, Edward Gilder, byrailroading the bride of the magnate's son to prison, he had succeededonly in making the trouble of that merchant prince vastly worse inthe ending of the affair by arresting the son for the capital crime ofmurder. The situation was, in very truth, intolerable. More than ever, Burke grew hot with intent to overcome the woman who had so persistentlyoutraged his authority by her ingenious devices against the law. Anyhow, the murder of Griggs could not go unpunished. The slayer's identitymust be determined, and thereafter the due penalty of the law inflicted, whoever the guilty person might prove to be. To the discovery of thisidentity, the Inspector was at the present moment devoting himself byadroit questioning of Dacey and Chicago Red, who had been arrested inone of their accustomed haunts by his men a short time before. 

The policeman on duty at the door was the only other person in the room, and in consequence Burke permitted himself, quite unashamed, to employthose methods of persuasion which have risen to a high degree ofadmiration in police circles. 

"Come across now!" he admonished. His voice rolled forth like that of abull of Bashan. He was on his feet, facing the two thieves. His head wasthrust forward menacingly, and his eyes were savage. The two men shrankbefore him--both in natural fear, and, too, in a furtive policy of theirown. This was no occasion for them to assert a personal pride againstthe man who had them in his toils. 

"I don't know nothin'!" Chicago Red's voice was between a snarl and awhine. "Ain't I been telling you that for over an hour?"

Burke vouchsafed no answer in speech, but with a nimbleness surprisingin one of his bulk, gave Dacey, who chanced to be the nearer of the two, a shove that sent the fellow staggering half-way across the room underits impetus. 

With this by way of appreciable introduction to his seriousness ofpurpose, Burke put a question:

"Dacey, how long have you been out?"

The answer came in a sibilant whisper of dread. 

"A week. "

Burke pushed the implication brutally. 

"Want to go back for another stretch?" The Inspector's voice wasfreighted with suggestions of disasters to come, which were wellunderstood by the cringing wretch before him. 

The thief shuddered, and his face, already pallid from the prison lackof sunlight like some noxious growth of a cellar, became livid. Hiswords came in a muffled moan of fear. 

"God, no!"

Burke left a little interval of silence then in which the thievesmight tremble over the prospect suggested by his words, but always hemaintained his steady, relentless glare on the cowed creatures. It wasa familiar warfare with him. Yet, in this instance, he was destinedto failure, for the men were of a type different from that of EnglishEddie, who was lying dead as the meet reward for treachery to hisfellows.... When, at last, his question issued from the close-shut lips, it came like the crack of a gun. 

"Who shot Griggs?"

The reply was a chorus from the two:

"I don't know--honest, I don't!"

In his eagerness, Chicago Red moved toward his questioner--unwisely. 

"Honest to Gawd, I don't know nothin' about it!"

The Inspector's fist shot out toward Chicago Red's jaw. The impact wasenough. The thief went to his knees under the blow. 

"Now, get up--and talk!" Burke's voice came with unrepentant noisinessagainst the stricken man. 

Cringingly, Chicago Red, who so gloried in his strength, yet was nowaltogether humble in this precarious case, obeyed as far as the gettingto his feet was concerned.... It never occurred to him even that heshould carry his obedience to the point of "squealing on a pal!" Hadthe circumstances been different, he might have refused to accept theInspector's blow with such meekness, since above all things he loveda bit of bodily strife with some one near his own strength, and theInspector was of a sort to offer him a battle worth while. 

So, now, while he got slowly to his feet, he took care to keep at arespectful distance from the official, though his big hands fairly achedto double into fists for blows with this man who had so maltreated him. 

His own self-respect, of its peculiar sort, was saved by theinterference of Cassidy, who entered the Inspector's office to announcethe arrival of the District Attorney. 

"Send 'im in, " Burke directed at once. He made a gesture toward thedoorman, and added: "Take 'em back!"

A grin of evil humor writhed the lips of the police official, and headded to the attentive doorman a word of direction that might well beinterpreted by the malevolent expression on his face. 

"Don't be rough with 'em, Dan, " he said. For once, his dominatingvoice was reduced to something approaching softness, in his sardonicappreciation of his own humor in the conception of what these two men, who had ventured to resist his importunities, might receive at the handsof his faithful satellites.... The doorman grinned appreciatively, andherded his victims from the place. And the two went shamblingly in sureknowledge of the things that were in store. Yet, without thought oftreachery. They would not "squeal"! All they would tell of the death ofEddie Griggs would be: "He got what was coming to him!"

The Inspector dropped into his swivel chair at the desk whilst heawaited the arrival of Demarest, the District Attorney. The greetingsbetween the two were cordial when at last the public prosecutor made hisappearance. 

"I came as soon as I got your message, " the District Attorney said, ashe seated himself in a chair by the desk. "And I've sent word to Mr. Gilder.... Now, then, Burke, let's have this thing quickly. "

The Inspector's explanation was concise:

"Joe Garson, Chicago Red, and Dacey, along with Griggs, broke intoEdward Gilder's house, last night! I knew the trick was going to bepulled off, and so I planted Cassidy and a couple of other men justoutside the room where the haul was to be made. Then, I went away, and after something like half an hour I came back to make the arrestsmyself. " A look of intense disgust spread itself over the Inspector'smassive face. "Well, " he concluded sheepishly, "when I broke into theroom I found young Gilder along with that Turner woman he married, andthey were just talking together. "

"No trace of the others?" Demarest questioned crisply. 

At the inquiry, Burke's face crimsoned angrily, then again set in grimlines. 

"I found Griggs lying on the floor--dead!" Once again the disgust showedin his expression. "The Turner woman says young Gilder shot Griggsbecause he broke into the house. Ain't that the limit?"

"What does the boy say?" the District Attorney demanded. 

Burke shook his head dispiritedly. 

"Nothing, " he answered. "She told him not to talk, and so, of course, hewon't, he's such a fool over her. "

"And what does she say?" Demarest asked. He found himself rather amusedby the exceeding chagrin of the Inspector over this affair. 

Burke's voice grew savage as he snapped a reply. 

"Refuses to talk till she sees a lawyer. " But a touch of cheerfulnessappeared in his tones as he proceeded. "We've got Chicago Red and Dacey, and we'll have Garson before the day's over. And, oh, yes, they'vepicked up a young girl at the Turner woman's place. And we've got onereal clue--for once!" The speaker's expression was suddenly triumphant. He opened a drawer of the desk, and took out Garson's pistol, to whichthe silencer was still attached. 

"You never saw a gun like that before, eh?" he exclaimed. 

Demarest admitted the fact after a curious examination. 

"I'll bet you never did!" Burke cried, with satisfaction. "That thingon the end is a Maxim silencer. There are thousands of them in use onrifles, but they've never been able to use them on revolvers before. This is a specially made gun, " he went on admiringly, as he took itback and slipped it into a pocket of his coat. "That thing is absolutelynoiseless. I've tried it. Well, you see, it'll be an easy thing--easiestthing in the world!--to trace that silencer attachment. Cassidy'sworking on that end of the thing now. "

For a few minutes longer, the two men discussed the details of thecrime, theorizing over the baffling event. Then, presently, Cassidyentered the office, and made report of his investigations concerning thepistol with the silencer attachment. 

"I got the factory at Hartford on the wire, " he explained, "and theygave me Mr. Maxim himself, the inventor of the silencer. He said thiswas surely a special gun, which was made for the use of Henry Sylvester, one of the professors at Yale. He wanted it for demonstration purposes. Mr. Maxim said the things have never been put on the market, and thatthey never will be. "

"For humane reasons, " Demarest commented, nodding approbation. 

"Good thing, too!" Burke conceded. "They'd make murder too devilisheasy, and it's easy enough now.... Well, Cassidy?"

"I got hold of this man, Sylvester, " Cassidy went on. "I had him on the'phone, too. He says that his house was robbed about eight weeks ago, and among other things the silencer was stolen. " Cassidy paused, andchuckled drily. "He adds the startling information that the New Havenpolice have not been able to recover any of the stolen property. Themrube cops are immense!"

Demarest smiled slyly, as the detective, at a nod from his superior, went toward the door. 

"No, " he said, maliciously; "only the New York police recover stolengoods. "

"Good-night!" quoth Cassidy, turning at the door, in admission of hisdiscomfiture over the thrust, while Burke himself grinned wryly inappreciation of the gibe. 

Demarest grew grave again, as he put the question that was troubling himmost. 

"Is there any chance that young Gilder did shoot Griggs?"

"You can search me!" the Inspector answered, disconsolately. "My menwere just outside the door of the room where Eddie Griggs was shot todeath, and none of 'em heard a sound. It's that infernal silencer thing. Of course, I know that all the gang was in the house. "

"But tell me just how you know that fact, " Demarest objected verycrisply. "Did you see them go in?"

"No, I didn't, " the Inspector admitted, tartly. "But Griggs----"

Demarest permitted himself a sneer born of legal knowledge. 

"Griggs is dead, Burke. You're up against it. You can't prove thatGarson, or Chicago Red, or Dacey, ever entered that house. "

The Inspector scowled over this positive statement. 

"But Griggs said they were going to, " he argued. 

"I know, " Demarest agreed, with an exasperating air of shrewdness; "butGriggs is dead. You see, Burke, you couldn't in a trial even repeat whathe told you. It's not permissible evidence. "

"Oh, the law!" the Inspector snorted, with much choler. "Well, then, " hewent on belligerently, "I'll charge young Gilder with murder, and callthe Turner woman as a witness. "

The District Attorney laughed aloud over this project. 

"You can't question her on the witness-stand, " he explainedpatronizingly to the badgered police official. "The law doesn't allowyou to make a wife testify against her husband. And, what's more, youcan't arrest her, and then force her to go into the witness-stand, either. No, Burke, " he concluded emphatically, "your only chance ofgetting the murderer of Griggs is by a confession. "

"Then, I'll charge them both with the murder, " the Inspector growledvindictively. "And, by God, they'll both go to trial unless somebodycomes through. " He brought his huge fist down on the desk with violence, and his voice was forbidding. "If it's my last act on earth, " hedeclared, "I'm going to get the man who shot Eddie Griggs. "

Demarest was seriously disturbed by the situation that had developed. Hewas under great personal obligations to Edward Gilder, whose influencein fact had been the prime cause of his success in attaining to theimportant official position he now held, and he would have gone farto serve the magnate in any difficulty that might arise. He had beenperfectly willing to employ all the resources of his office to relievethe son from the entanglement with a woman of unsavory notoriety. Now, thanks to the miscarried plotting of Burke to the like end, what beforehad been merely a vicious state of affairs was become one of the utmostdreadfulness. The worst of crimes had been committed in the house ofEdward Gilder himself, and his son acknowledged himself as the murderer. The District Attorney felt a genuine sorrow in thinking of the anguishthis event must have brought on the father. He had, as well, sympathyenough for the son. His acquaintance with the young man convinced himthat the boy had not done the deed of bloody violence. In that fact wasa mingling of comfort and of anxiety. It had been better, doubtless, if indeed Dick had shot Griggs, had indicted a just penalty on ahousebreaker. But the District Attorney was not inclined to credit theconfession. Burke's account of the plot in which the stool-pigeon hadbeen the agent offered too many complications. Altogether, the aspect ofthe case served to indicate that Dick could not have been the slayer.... Demarest shook his head dejectedly. 

"Burke, " he said, "I want the boy to go free. I don't believe for aminute that Dick Gilder ever killed this pet stool-pigeon of yours. And, so, you must understand this: I want him to go free, of course. "

Burke frowned refusal at this suggestion. Here was a matter in which hisrights must not be invaded. He, too, would have gone far to serve a manof Edward Gilder's standing, but in this instance his professional pridewas in revolt. He had been defied, trapped, made a victim of the gangwho had killed his most valued informer. 

"The youngster'll go free when he tells what he knows, " he said angrily, "and not a minute before. " His expression lightened a little. "Perhapsthe old gentleman can make him talk. I can't. He's under that woman'sthumb, of course, and she's told him he mustn't say a word. So, hedon't. " A grin of half-embarrassed appreciation moved the heavy jaws ashe glanced at the District Attorney. "You see, " he explained, "I can'tmake him talk, but I might if circumstances were different. On accountof his being the old man's son, I'm a little cramped in my style. "

It was, in truth, one thing to browbeat and assault a convict like Daceyor Chicago Red, but quite another to employ the like violence againsta youth of Dick Gilder's position in the world. Demarest understoodperfectly, but he was inclined to be sceptical over the Inspector'stheory that Dick possessed actual cognizance as to the killing ofGriggs. 

"You think that young Gilder really knows?" he questioned, doubtfully. 

"I don't think anything--yet!" Burke retorted. "All I know is this:Eddie Griggs, the most valuable crook that ever worked for me, has beenmurdered. " The official's voice was charged with threatening as he wenton. "And some one, man or woman, is going to pay for it!"

"Woman?" Demarest repeated, in some astonishment. 

Burke's voice came merciless. 

"I mean, Mary Turner, " he said slowly. 

Demarest was shocked. 

"But, Burke, " he expostulated, "she's not that sort. " The Inspectorsneered openly. 

"How do you know she ain't?" he demanded. "Well, anyhow, she's made amonkey out of the Police Department, and, first, last, and all the time, I'm a copper... And that reminds me, " he went on with a resumption ofhis usual curt bluntness, "I want you to wait for Mr. Gilder outside, while I get busy with the girl they've brought down from Mary Turner'sflat. "

CHAPTER XXI. AGGIE AT BAY. 

Burke, after the lawyer had left him, watched the door expectantly forthe coming of the girl, whom he had ordered brought before him. But, when at last Dan appeared, and stood aside to permit her passing intothe office, the Inspector gasped at the unexpectedness of the vision. He had anticipated the coming of a woman of that world with which he wasmost familiar in the exercise of his professional duties--the underworldof criminals, some one beautiful perhaps, but with the brand ofviciousness marked subtly, yet visibly for the trained eye to see. Then, even in that first moment, he told himself that he should have beenprepared for the unusual in this instance, since the girl had to do withMary Turner, and that disturbing person herself showed in face and formand manner nothing to suggest aught but a gentlewoman. And, in the nextinstant, the Inspector forgot his surprise in a sincere, almost ardentadmiration. 

The girl was rather short, but of a slender elegance of form that wasravishing. She was gowned, too, with a chic nicety to arouse the envy ofall less-fortunate women. Her costume had about it an indubitable air, a finality of perfection in its kind. On another, it might have appearedperhaps the merest trifle garish. But that fault, if in fact it everexisted, was made into a virtue by the correcting innocence ofthe girl's face. It was a childish face, childish in the exquisitesmoothness of the soft, pink skin, childish in the wondering stare ofthe blue eyes, now so widely opened in dismay, childish in the wistfuldrooping of the rosebud mouth. 

The girl advanced slowly, with a laggard hesitation in her movementsobviously from fear. She approached the desk, from behind which theInspector watched, fascinated by the fresh and wholesome beauty of thisyoung creature. He failed to observe the underlying anger beneath thegirl's outward display of alarm. He shook off his first impression bymeans of a resort to his customary bluster in such cases. 

"Now, then, my girl, " he said roughly, "I want to know----"

There came a change, wrought in the twinkling of an eye. The tiny, trimly shod foot of the girl rose and fell in a wrathful stamp. 

"How dare you!" The clear blue eyes were become darkened with anger. There was a deepened leaf of red in either cheek. The drooping lipsdrooped no longer, but were bent to a haughtiness that was finelyimpressive. 

Before the offended indignation of the young woman, Burke sat bewilderedby embarrassment for once in his life, and quite at a loss. 

"What's that?" he said, dubiously. 

The girl explained the matter explicitly enough. 

"What do you mean by this outrage?" she stormed. Her voice was lowand rich, with a charming roundness that seemed the very hallmark ofgentility. But, now, it was surcharged with an indignant amazement overthe indignity put upon her by the representatives of the law. Then, abruptly, the blue eyes were softened in their fires, as by the suddennearness of tears. 

"What do you mean?" the girl repeated. Her slim form was tense withwrath. "I demand my instant release. " There was indescribable rebuke inher slow emphasis of the words. 

Burke was impressed in spite of himself, in spite of his accustomed coldindifference to the feelings of others as necessity compelled himto make investigation of them. His harsh, blustering voice softenedperceptibly, and he spoke in a wheedling tone, such as one might employin the effort to tranquillize a spoiled child in a fit of temper. 

"Wait a minute, " he remonstrated. "Wait a minute!" He made a pacificallycourteous gesture toward one of the chairs, which stood by an end of thedesk. "Sit down, " he invited, with an effort toward cajoling. 

The scorn of the girl was superb. Her voice came icily, as she answered:

"I shall do nothing of the sort. Sit down, indeed!--here! Why, Ihave been arrested----" There came a break in the music of her tonesthrobbing resentment. A little sob crept in, and broke the sequence ofwords. The dainty face was vivid with shame. "I--" she faltered, "I'vebeen arrested--by a common policeman!"

The Inspector seized on the one flaw left him for defense against herindictment. 

"No, no, miss, " he argued, earnestly. "Excuse me. It wasn't any commonpoliceman--it was a detective sergeant. "

But his effort to placate was quite in vain. The ingenuous little beautywith the child's face and the blue eyes so widely opened fairly pantedin her revolt against the ignominy of her position, and was not to be soeasily appeased. Her voice came vibrant with disdain. Her level gaze onthe Inspector was of a sort to suggest to him anxieties over possiblecomplications here. 

"You wait!" she cried violently. "You just wait, I tell you, until mypapa hears of this!"

Burke regarded the furious girl doubtfully. 

"Who is your papa?" he asked, with a bit of alarm stirring in hisbreast, for he had no mind to offend any one of importance where therewas no need. 

"I sha'n't tell you, " came the petulant retort from the girl. Her ivoryforehead was wrinkled charmingly in a little frown of obstinacy. "Why, "she went on, displaying new symptoms of distress over another appallingidea that flashed on her in this moment, "you would probably give myname to the reporters. " Once again the rosebud mouth drooped into curvesof sorrow, of a great self-pity. "If it ever got into the newspapers, myfamily would die of shame!"

The pathos of her fear pierced through the hardened crust of the policeofficial. He spoke apologetically. 

"Now, the easiest way out for both of us, " he suggested, "is for youto tell me just who you are. You see, young lady, you were found in thehouse of a notorious crook. "

The haughtiness of the girl waxed. It seemed as if she grew an inchtaller in her scorn of the Inspector's saying. 

"How perfectly absurd!" she exclaimed, scathingly. "I was calling onMiss Mary Turner!"

"How did you come to meet her, anyhow?" Burke inquired. He stillheld his big voice to a softer modulation than that to which it washabituated. 

Yet, the disdain of the girl seemed only to increase momently. Sheshowed plainly that she regarded this brass-buttoned official as oneunbearably insolent in his demeanor toward her. Nevertheless, shecondescended to reply, with an exaggeration of the aristocratic drawl toindicate her displeasure. 

"I was introduced to Miss Turner, " she explained, "by Mr. RichardGilder. Perhaps you have heard of his father, the owner of theEmporium. "

"Oh, yes, I've heard of his father, and of him, too, " Burke admitted, placatingly. 

But the girl relaxed not a whit in her attitude of offense. 

"Then, " she went on severely, "you must see at once that you areentirely mistaken in this matter. " Her blue eyes widened further asshe stared accusingly at the Inspector, who betrayed evidences ofperplexity, and hesitated for an answer. Then, the doll-like, charmingface took on a softer look, which had in it a suggestion of appeal. 

"Don't you see it?" she demanded. 

"Well, no, " Burke rejoined uneasily; "not exactly, I don't!" In thepresence of this delicate and graceful femininity, he experienced asudden, novel distaste for his usual sledge-hammer methods of attackin interrogation. Yet, his duty required that he should continue hisquestioning. He found himself in fact between the devil and the deepsea--though this particular devil appeared rather as an angel of light. 

Now, at his somewhat feeble remark in reply to her query, the childishface grew as hard as its curving contours would permit. 

"Sir!" she cried indignantly. Her little head was thrown back inscornful reproof, and she turned a shoulder toward the officialcontemptuously. 

"Now, now!" Burke exclaimed in remonstrance. After all, he could not bebrutal with this guileless maiden. He must, however, make the situationclear to her, lest she think him a beast--which would never do!

"You see, young lady, " he went on with a gentleness of voice and mannerthat would have been inconceivable to Dacey and Chicago Red; "you see, the fact is that, even if you were introduced to this Mary Turner byyoung Mr. Gilder, this same Mary Turner herself is an ex-convict, andshe's just been arrested for murder. "

At the dread word, a startling change was wrought in the girl. Shewheeled to face the Inspector, her slender body swaying a little towardhim. The rather heavy brows were lifted slightly in a disbelievingstare. The red lips were parted, rounded to a tremulous horror. 

"Murder!" she gasped; and then was silent. 

"Yes, " Burke went on, wholly at ease now, since he had broken the icethus effectually. "You see, if there's a mistake about you, you don'twant it to go any further--not a mite further, that's sure. So, you see, now, that's one of the reasons why I must know just who you are. " Then, in his turn, Burke put the query that the girl had put to him a littlewhile before. "You see that, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, yes!" was the instant agreement. "You should have told me allabout this horrid thing in the first place. " Now, the girl's manner wastransformed. She smiled wistfully on the Inspector, and the glance ofthe blue eyes was very kind, subtly alluring. Yet in this unbending, there appeared even more decisively than hitherto the fine qualitiesin bearing of one delicately nurtured. She sank down in a chair by thedesk, and forthwith spoke with a simplicity that in itself was somehowpeculiarly potent in its effect on the official who gave attentive ear. 

"My name is Helen Travers West, " she announced. 

Burke started a little in his seat, and regarded the speaker with a newdeference as he heard that name uttered. 

"Not the daughter of the railway president?" he inquired. 

"Yes, " the girl admitted. Then, anew, she displayed a serious agitationover the thought of any possible publicity in this affair. 

"Oh, please, don't tell any one, " she begged prettily. The blue eyeswere very imploring, beguiling, too. The timid smile that wreathed thetiny mouth was marvelously winning. The neatly gloved little hands wereheld outstretched, clasped in supplication. "Surely, sir, you see nowquite plainly why it must never be known by any one in all the wide, wide world that I have ever been brought to this perfectly dreadfulplace--though you have been quite nice!" Her voice dropped to a noteof musical prayerfulness. The words were spoken very softly and veryslowly, with intonations difficult for a man to deny. "Please let me gohome. " She plucked a minute handkerchief from her handbag, put it to hereyes, and began to sob quietly. 

The burly Inspector of Police was moved to quick sympathy. Really, whenall was said and done, it was a shame that one like her should by somefreak of fate have become involved in the sordid, vicious things thathis profession made it obligatory on him to investigate. There was aconsiderable hint of the paternal in his air as he made an attempt tooffer consolation to the afflicted damsel. 

"That's all right, little lady, " he exclaimed cheerfully. "Now, don'tyou be worried--not a little bit. Take it from me, Miss West.... Just goahead, and tell me all you know about this Turner woman. Did you see heryesterday?"

The girl's sobs ceased. After a final dab with the minute handkerchief, she leaned forward a little toward the Inspector, and proceeded to put aquestion to him with great eagerness. 

"Will you let me go home as soon as I've told you the teensy little Iknow?"

"Yes, " Burke agreed promptly, with an encouraging smile. And for a goodmeasure of reassurance, he added as one might to an alarmed child: "Noone is going to hurt you, young lady. "

"Well, then, you see, it was this way, " began the brisk explanation. "Mr. Gilder was calling on me one afternoon, and he said to me then thathe knew a very charming young woman, who----"

Here the speech ended abruptly, and once again the handkerchief wasbrought into play as the sobbing broke forth with increased violence. Presently, the girl's voice rose in a wail. 

"Oh, this is dreadful--dreadful!" In the final word, the wail broke to amoan. 

Burke felt himself vaguely guilty as the cause of such suffering on thepart of one so young, so fair, so innocent. As a culprit, he sought hisbest to afford a measure of soothing for this grief that had had itssource in his performance of duty. 

"That's all right, little lady, " he urged in a voice as nearlymellifluous as he could contrive with its mighty volume. "That's allright. I have to keep on telling you. Nobody's going to hurt you--not alittle bit. Believe me! Why, nobody ever would want to hurt you!"

But his well-meant attempt to assuage the stricken creature's wo wasfutile. The sobbing continued. With it came a plaintive cry, many timesrepeated, softly, but very miserably. 

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

"Isn't there something else you can tell me about this woman?" Burkeinquired in desperation before the plaintive outburst. He hoped todistract her from such grief over her predicament. 

The girl gave no least heed to the question. 

"Oh, I'm so frightened!" she gasped. 

"Tut, tut!" the Inspector chided. "Now, I tell you there's nothing atall for you to be afraid of. "

"I'm afraid!" the girl asserted dismally. "I'm afraid you will--putme--in a cell!" Her voice sank to a murmur hardly audible as shespoke the words so fraught with dread import to one of her refinedsensibilities. 

"Pooh!" Burke returned, gallantly. "Why, my dear young lady, nobody inthe world could think of you and a cell at the same time--no, indeed!"

Instantly, the girl responded to this bald flattery. She fairly radiatedappreciation of the compliment, as she turned her eyes, dewy with tears, on the somewhat flustered Inspector. 

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, with naive enjoyment. 

Forthwith, Burke set out to make the most of this favorable opportunity. 

"Are you sure you've told me all you know about this woman?" hequestioned. 

"Oh, yes! I've only seen her two or three times, " came the readyresponse. The voice changed to supplication, and again the clasped handswere extended beseechingly. 

"Oh, please, Commissioner! Won't you let me go home?"

The use of a title higher than his own flattered the Inspector, and hewas moved to graciousness. Besides, it was obvious that his police netin this instance had enmeshed only the most harmless of doves. He smiledencouragingly. 

"Well, now, little lady, " he said, almost tenderly, "if I let yougo now, will you promise to let me know if you are able to think ofanything else about this Turner woman?"

"I will--indeed, I will!" came the fervent assurance. There wassomething almost--quite provocative in the flash of gratitude that shoneforth from the blue eyes of the girl in that moment of her superlativerelief. It moved Burke to a desire for rehabilitation in her estimation. 

"Now, you see, " he went on in his heavy voice, yet very kindly, and witha sort of massive playfulness in his manner, "no one has hurt you--noteven a little bit, after all. Now, you run right home to your mother. "

The girl did not need to be told twice. On the instant, she sprang upjoyously, and started toward the door, with a final ravishing smile forthe pleased official at the desk. 

"I'll go just as fast as ever I can, " the musical voice made assuranceblithely. 

"Give my compliments to your father, " Burke requested courteously. "Andtell him I'm sorry I frightened you. "

The girl turned at the door.... After all, too great haste might beindiscreet. 

"I will, Commissioner, " she promised, with an arch smile. "And I knowpapa will be so grateful to you for all your kindness to me!"

It was at this critical moment that Cassidy entered from the oppositeside of the office. As his eyes fell on the girl at the door across fromhim, his stolid face lighted in a grin. And, in that same instant ofrecognition between the two, the color went out of the girl's face. Thelittle red lips snapped together in a line of supreme disgust againstthis vicissitude of fate after all her manoeuverings in the face of theenemy. She stood motionless in wordless dismay, impotent before thisdisaster forced on her by untoward chance. 

"Hello, Aggie!" the detective remarked, with a smirk, while theInspector stared from one to the other with rounded eyes of wonder, andhis jaw dropped from the stark surprise of this new development. 

The girl returned deliberately to the chair she had occupied throughthe interview with the Inspector, and dropped into it weakly. Her formrested there limply now, and the blue eyes stared disconsolately at theblank wall before her. She realized that fate had decreed defeat for herin the game. It was after a minute of silence in which the two men satstaring that at last she spoke with a savage wrath against the pit intowhich she had fallen after her arduous efforts. 

"Ain't that the damnedest luck!"

For a little interval still, Burke turned his glances from the girl toCassidy, and then back again to the girl, who sat immobile with her blueeyes steadfastly fixed on the wall. The police official was, in truth, totally bewildered. Here was inexplicable mystery. Finally, he addressedthe detective curtly. 

"Cassidy, do you know this woman?"

"Sure, I do!" came the placid answer. He went on to explain with thedirect brevity of his kind. "She's little Aggie Lynch--con' woman, fromBuffalo--two years for blackmail--did her time at Burnsing. "

With this succinct narrative concerning the girl who sat mute andmotionless in the chair with her eyes fast on the wall, Cassidy relapsedinto silence, during which he stared rather perplexedly at his chief, who seemed to be in the throes of unusual emotion. As the detectiveexpressed it in his own vernacular: For the first time in hisexperience, the Inspector appeared to be actually "rattled. "

For a little time, there was silence, the while Burke sat staring at theaverted face of the girl. His expression was that of one who has justundergone a soul-stirring shock. Then, presently, he set his featuresgrimly, rose from his chair, and walked to a position directly in thefront of the girl, who still refused to look in his direction. 

"Young woman----" he began, severely. Then, of a sudden he laughed. "You picked the right business, all right, all right!" he said, with acertain enthusiasm. He laughed aloud until his eyes were only slits, andhis ample paunch trembled vehemently. 

"Well, " he went on, at last, "I certainly have to hand it to you, kid. You're a beaut'!"

Aggie sniffed vehemently in rebuke of the gross partiality of fate inhis behalf. 

"Just as I had him goin'!" she said bitterly, as if in self-communion, without shifting her gaze from the blank surface of the wall. 

Now, however, Burke was reminded once again of his official duties, andhe turned quickly to the attentive Cassidy. 

"Have you got a picture of this young woman?" he asked brusquely. Andwhen Cassidy had replied in the negative, he again faced the adventuresswith a mocking grin--in which mockery, too, was a fair fragment forhimself, who had been so thoroughly within her toils of blandishment. 

"I'd dearly love to have a photograph of you, Miss Helen Travers West, "he said. 

The speech aroused the stolid detective to a new interest. 

"Helen Travers West?" he repeated, inquiringly. 

"Oh, that's the name she told me, " the Inspector explained, somewhatshamefacedly before this question from his inferior. Then he chuckled, for he had sense of humor sufficient to triumph even over his owndiscomfiture in this encounter. "And she had me winging, too!" heconfessed. "Yes, I admit it. " He turned to the girl admiringly. "Yousure are immense, little one--immense!" He smiled somewhat more in hisofficial manner of mastery. "And now, may I have the honor of asking youto accept the escort of Mr. Cassidy to our gallery. "

Aggie sprang to her feet and regarded the Inspector with eyes in whichwas now no innocence, such as had beguiled him so recently from thoseingenuous orbs. 

"Oh, can that stuff!" she cried, crossly. "Let's get down to business onthe dot--and no frills on it! Keep to cases!"

"Now you're talking, " Burke declared, with a new appreciation of theversatility of this woman--who had not been wasting her time hitherto, and had no wish to lose it now. 

"You can't do anything to us, " Aggie declared, strongly. There remainedno trace of the shrinking violet that had been Miss Helen Travers West. Now, she revealed merely the business woman engaged in a fight againstthe law, which was opposed definitely to her peculiar form of business. 

"You can't do anything to me, and you know you can't!" she went on, withan almost convincing tranquillity of assertion. "Why, I'll be sprunginside an hour. " There came a ripple of laughter that reminded theInspector of the fashion in which he had been overcome by this woman'swiles. And she spoke with a certitude of conviction that was ratherterrifying to one who had just fallen under the stress of her spells. 

"Why, habeas corpus is my lawyer's middle name!"

"On the level, now, " the Inspector demanded, quite unmoved by the finaldeclarations, "when did you see Mary Turner last?"

Aggie resorted anew to her practices of deception. Her voice held theaccents of unimpeachable truth, and her eyes looked unflinchingly intothose of her questioner as she answered. 

"Early this morning, " she declared. "We slept together last night, because I had the willies. She blew the joint about half-past ten. "

Burke shook his head, more in sorrow than in anger. 

"What's the use of your lying to me?" he remonstrated. 

"What, me?" Aggie clamored, with every evidence of being deeply woundedby the charge against her veracity. "Oh, I wouldn't do anythinglike that--on the level! What would be the use? I couldn't fool you, Commissioner. "

Burke stroked his chin sheepishly, under the influence of memories ofMiss Helen Travers West. 

"So help me, " Aggie continued with the utmost solemnity, "Mary neverleft the house all night. I'd swear that's the truth on a pile of Biblesa mile high!"

"Have to be higher than that, " the Inspector commented, grimly. "Yousee, Aggie Lynch, Mary Turner was arrested just after midnight. " Hisvoice deepened and came blustering. "Young woman, you'd better tell allyou know. "

"I don't know a thing!" Aggie retorted, sharply. She faced the Inspectorfiercely, quite unabashed by the fact that her vigorous offer to commitperjury had been of no avail. 

Burke, with a quick movement, drew the pistol from his pocket andextended it toward the girl. 

"How long has she owned this gun?" he said, threateningly. 

Aggie showed no trace of emotion as her glance ran over the weapon. 

"She didn't own it, " was her firm answer. 

"Oh, then it's Garson's!" Burke exclaimed. 

"I don't know whose it is, " Aggie replied, with an air of boredom wellcalculated to deceive. "I never laid eyes on it till now. "

The Inspector's tone abruptly took on a somber coloring, with anunderlying menace. 

"English Eddie was killed with this gun last night, " he said. "Now, whodid it?" His broad face was sinister. "Come on, now! Who did it?"

Aggie became flippant, seemingly unimpressed by the Inspector'ssavageness. 

"How should I know?" she drawled. "What do you think I am--afortune-teller?"

"You'd better come through, " Burke reiterated. Then his manner changedto wheedling. "If you're the wise kid I think you are, you will. "

Aggie waxed very petulant over this insistence. 

"I tell you, I don't know anything! Say, what are you trying to hand me, anyway?"

Burke scowled on the girl portentously, and shook his head. 

"Now, it won't do, I tell you, Aggie Lynch. I'm wise. You listen to me. "Once more his manner turned to the cajoling. "You tell me what you know, and I'll see you make a clean get-away, and I'll slip you a nice littlepiece of money, too. "

The girl's face changed with startling swiftness. She regarded theInspector shrewdly, a crafty glint in her eyes. 

"Let me get this straight, " she said. "If I tell you what I know aboutMary Turner and Joe Garson, I get away?"

"Clean!" Burke ejaculated, eagerly. 

"And you'll slip me some coin, too?"

"That's it!" came the hasty assurance. "Now, what do you say?"

The small figure grew tense. The delicate, childish face was suddenlydistorted with rage, a rage black and venomous. The blue eyes wereblazing. The voice came thin and piercing. 

"I say, you're a great big stiff! What do you think I am?" she stormedat the discomfited Inspector, while Cassidy looked on in some enjoymentat beholding his superior being worsted. Aggie wheeled on the detective. "Say, take me out of here, " she cried in a voice surcharged withdisgust. "I'd rather be in the cooler than here with him!"

Now Burke's tone was dangerous. 

"You'll tell, " he growled, "or you'll go up the river for a stretch. "

"I don't know anything, " the girl retorted, spiritedly. "And, if I did, I wouldn't tell--not in a million years!" She thrust her head forwardchallengingly as she faced the Inspector, and her expression wasresolute. "Now, then, " she ended, "send me up--if you can!"

"Take her away, " Burke snapped to the detective. 

Aggie went toward Cassidy without any sign of reluctance. 

"Yes, do, please!" she exclaimed with a sneer. "And do it in a hurry. Being in the room with him makes me sick! She turned to stare at theInspector with eyes that were very clear and very hard. In this moment, there was nothing childish in their gaze. 

"Thought I'd squeal, did you?" she said, evenly. "Yes, I will"--the redlips bent to a smile of supreme scorn--"like hell!"

CHAPTER XXII. THE TRAP THAT FAILED. 

Burke, despite his quality of heaviness, was blest with a keen sense ofhumor, against which at times his professional labors strove mutinously. In the present instance, he had failed utterly to obtain any informationof value from the girl whom he had just been examining. On the contrary, he had been befooled outrageously by a female criminal, in a manner towound deeply his professional pride. Nevertheless, he bore no grudgeagainst the adventuress. His sense of the absurd served him well, and hetook a lively enjoyment in recalling the method by which her plausiblewiles had beguiled him. He gave her a real respect for the adroitnesswith which she had deceived him--and he was not one to be readilydeceived. So, now, as the scornful maiden went out of the door under theescort of Cassidy, Burke bowed gallantly to her lithe back, and blewa kiss from his thick fingertips, in mocking reverence for her asan artist in her way. Then, he seated himself, pressed the deskcall-button, and, when he had learned that Edward Gilder was arrived, ordered that the magnate and the District Attorney be admitted, and thatthe son, also, be sent up from his cell. 

"It's a bad business, sir, " Burke said, with hearty sympathy, to theshaken father, after the formal greetings that followed the entrance ofthe two men. "It's a very bad business. "

"What does he say?" Gilder questioned. There was something pitifulin the distress of this man, usually so strong and so certain of hiscourse. Now, he was hesitant in his movements, and his mellow voice camemore weakly than its wont. There was a pathetic pleading in the dulledeyes with which he regarded the Inspector. 

"Nothing!" Burke answered. "That's why I sent for you. I suppose Mr. Demarest has made the situation plain to you. "

Gilder nodded, his face miserable. 

"Yes, " he has explained it to me, he said in a lifeless voice. "It'sa terrible position for my boy. But you'll release him at once, won'tyou?" Though he strove to put confidence into his words, his painfuldoubt was manifest. 

"I can't, " Burke replied, reluctantly, but bluntly. "You ought not toexpect it, Mr. Gilder. "

"But, " came the protest, delivered with much more spirit, "you know verywell that he didn't do it!"

Burke shook his head emphatically in denial of the allegation. 

"I don't know anything about it--yet, " he contradicted. 

The face of the magnate went white with fear. 

"Inspector, " he cried brokenly, "you--don't mean--"

Burke answered with entire candor. 

"I mean, Mr. Gilder, that you've got to make him talk. That's what Iwant you to do, for all our sakes. Will you?"

"I'll do my best, " the unhappy man replied, forlornly. 

A minute later, Dick, in charge of an officer, was brought into theroom. He was pale, a little disheveled from his hours in a cell. Hestill wore his evening clothes of the night before. His face showedclearly the deepened lines, graven by the suffering to which he had beensubjected, but there was no weakness in his expression. Instead, a newforce that love and sorrow had brought out in his character was plainlyvisible. The strength of his nature was springing to full life under thestimulus of the ordeal through which he was passing. 

The father went forward quickly, and caught Dick's hands in a mightygrip. 

"My boy!" he murmured, huskily. Then, he made a great effort, andcontrolled his emotion to some extent. "The Inspector tells me, " he wenton, "that you've refused to talk--to answer his questions. "

Dick, too, winced under the pain of this meeting with his father ina situation so sinister. But he was, to some degree, apathetic fromover-much misery. Now, in reply to his father's words, he only nodded aquiet assent. 

"That wasn't wise under the circumstances, " the father remonstratedhurriedly. "However, now, Demarest and I are here to protect yourinterests, so that you can talk freely. " He went on with a little catchof anxiety in his voice. "Now, Dick, tell us! Who killed that man? Wemust know. Tell me. "

Burke broke in impatiently, with his blustering fashion of address. 

"Where did you get----?"

But Demarest raised a restraining hand. 

"Wait, please!" he admonished the Inspector. "You wait a bit. " He wenta step toward the young man. "Give the boy a chance, " he said, and hisvoice was very friendly as he went on speaking. "Dick, I don't want tofrighten you, but your position is really a dangerous one. Your onlychance is to speak with perfect frankness. I pledge you my word, I'mtelling the truth, Dick. " There was profound concern in the lawyer'sthin face, and his voice, trained to oratorical arts, was emotionallypersuasive. "Dick, my boy, I want you to forget that I'm the DistrictAttorney, and remember only that I'm an old friend of yours, and of yourfather's, who is trying very hard to help you. Surely, you can trust me. Now, Dick, tell me: Who shot Griggs?"

There came a long pause. Burke's face was avid with desire forknowledge, with the keen expectancy of the hunter on the trail, whichwas characteristic of him in his professional work. The DistrictAttorney himself was less vitally eager, but his curiosity, as well ashis wish to escape from an embarrassing situation, showed openly onhis alert countenance. The heavy features of the father were twistinga little in nervous spasms, for to him this hour was all anguish, sincehis only son was in such horrible plight. Dick alone seemed almosttranquil, though the outward calm was belied by the flickering of hiseyelids and the occasional involuntary movement of the lips. Finally hespoke, in a cold, weary voice. 

"I shot Griggs, " he said. 

Demarest realized subtly that his plea had failed, but he made ar effortto resist the impression, to take the admission at its face value. 

"Why?" he demanded. 

Dick's answer came in the like unmeaning tones, and as wearily. 

"Because I thought he was a burglar. "

The District Attorney was beginning to feel his professional pridearoused against this young man who so flagrantly repelled his attemptsto learn the truth concerning the crime that had been committed. Heresorted to familiar artifices for entangling one questioned. 

"Oh, I see!" he said, in a tone of conviction. "Now, let's go back alittle. Burke says you told him last night that you had persuaded yourwife to come over to the house, and join you there. Is that right?"

"Yes. " The monosyllable was uttered indifferently. "And, while the twoof you were talking, " Demarest continued in a matter-of-fact manner. Hedid not conclude the sentence, but asked instead: "Now, tell me, Dick, just what did happen, won't you?"

There was no reply; and, after a little interval, the lawyer resumed hisquestioning. 

"Did this burglar come into the room?"

Dick nodded an assent. 

"And he attacked you?"

There came another nod of affirmation. 

"And there was a struggle?"

"Yes, " Dick said, and now there was resolution in his answer. 

"And you shot him?" Demarest asked, smoothly. 

"Yes, " the young man said again. 

"Then, " the lawyer countered on the instant, "where did you get therevolver?"

Dick started to answer without thought:

"Why, I grabbed it----" Then, the significance of this crashed on hisconsciousness, and he checked the words trembling on his lips. His eyes, which had been downcast, lifted and glared on the questioner. "So, " hesaid with swift hostility in his voice, "so, you're trying to trap me, too!" He shrugged his shoulders in a way he had learned abroad. "You!And you talk of friendship. I want none of such friendship. "

Demarest, greatly disconcerted, was skilled, nevertheless, indissembling, and he hid his chagrin perfectly. There was only reproachin his voice as he answered stoutly:

"I am your friend, Dick. "

But Burke would be no longer restrained. He had listened with increasingimpatience to the diplomatic efforts of the District Attorney, which hadended in total rout. Now, he insisted on employing his own more drastic, and, as he believed, more efficacious, methods. He stood up, and spokein his most threatening manner. 

"You don't want to take us for fools, young man, " he said, and his bigtones rumbled harshly through the room. "If you shot Griggs in mistakefor a burglar, why did you try to hide the fact? Why did you pretendto me that you and your wife were alone in the room--when you had _that_there with you, eh? Why didn't you call for help? Why didn't youcall for the police, as any honest man would naturally under suchcircumstances?"

The arraignment was severely logical. Dick showed his appreciation ofthe justice of it in the whitening of his face, nor did he try to answerthe charges thus hurled at him. 

The father, too, appreciated the gravity of the situation. His face wasworking, as if toward tears. 

"We're trying to save you, " he pleaded, tremulously. 

Burke persisted in his vehement system of attack. Now, he again broughtout the weapon that had done Eddie Griggs to death. 

"Where'd you get this gun?" he shouted. 

Dick held his tranquil pose. 

"I won't talk any more, " he answered, simply. "I must see my wifefirst. " His voice became more aggressive. "I want to know what you'vedone to her. "

Burke seized on this opening. 

"Did she kill Griggs?" he questioned, roughly. 

For once, Dick was startled out of his calm. 

"No, no!" he cried, desperately. 

Burke followed up his advantage. 

"Then, who did?" he demanded, sharply. "Who did?"

Now, however, the young man had regained his self-control. He answeredvery quietly, but with an air of finality. 

"I won't say any more until I've talked with a lawyer whom I can trust. "He shot a vindictive glance toward Demarest. 

The father intervened with a piteous eagerness. 

"Dick, if you know who killed this man, you must speak to protectyourself. "

Burke's voice came viciously. 

"The gun was found on you. Don't forget that. "

"You don't seem to realize the position you're in, " the father insisted, despairingly. "Think of me, Dick, my boy. If you won't speak for yourown sake, do it for mine. "

The face of the young man softened as he met his father's beseechingeyes. 

"I'm sorry, Dad, " he said, very gently. "But I--well, I can't!"

Again, Burke interposed. His busy brain was working out a new scheme forsolving this irritating problem. 

"I'm going to give him a little more time to think things over, "he said, curtly. He went back to his chair. "Perhaps he'll get tounderstand the importance of what we've been saying pretty soon. " Hescowled at Dick. "Now, young man, " he went on briskly, "you want to doa lot of quick thinking, and a lot of honest thinking, and, when you'reready to tell the truth, let me know. "

He pressed the button on his desk, and, as the doorman appeared, addressed that functionary. 

"Dan, have one of the men take him back. You wait outside. "

Dick, however, did not move. His voice came with a note ofdetermination. 

"I want to know about my wife. Where is she?"

Burke disregarded the question as completely as if it had not beenuttered, and went on speaking to the doorman with a suggestion in hiswords that was effective. 

"He's not to speak to any one, you understand. " Then he condescended togive his attention to the prisoner. "You'll know all about your wife, young man, when you make up your mind to tell me the truth. "

Dick gave no heed to the Inspector's statement. His eyes were fixed onhis father, and there was a great tenderness in their depths. And hespoke very softly:

"Dad, I'm sorry!"

The father's gaze met the son's, and the eyes of the two locked. Therewas no other word spoken. Dick turned, and followed his custodian outof the office in silence. Even after the shutting of the door behind theprisoner, the pause endured for some moments. 

Then, at last, Burke spoke to the magnate. 

"You see, Mr. Gilder, what we're up against. I can't let him go--yet!"

The father strode across the room in a sudden access of rage. 

"He's thinking of that woman, " he cried out, in a loud voice. "He'strying to shield her. "

"He's a loyal kid, at that, " Burke commented, with a grudgingadmiration. "I'll say that much for him. " His expression grew morose, asagain he pressed the button on his desk. "And now, " he vouchsafed, "I'llshow you the difference. " Then, as the doorman reappeared, he gave hisorder: "Dan, have the Turner woman brought up. " He regarded the two menwith his bristling brows pulled down in a scowl. "I'll have to try adifferent game with her, " he said, thoughtfully. "She sure is one cleverlittle dame. But, if she didn't do it herself, she knows who did, allright. " Again, Burke's voice took on its savage note. "And some one'sgot to pay for killing Griggs. I don't have to explain why to Mr. Demarest, but to you, Mr. Gilder. You see, it's this way: The veryfoundations of the work done by this department rest on the use ofcrooks, who are willing to betray their pals for coin. I told you abit about it last night. Now, you understand, if Griggs's murdergoes unpunished, it'll put the fear of God into the heart of everystool-pigeon we employ. And then where'd we be? Tell me that!"

The Inspector next called his stenographer, and gave explicitdirections. At the back of the room, behind the desk, were three largewindows, which opened on a corridor, and across this was a tier ofcells. The stenographer was to take his seat in this corridor, justoutside one of the windows. Over the windows, the shades were drawn, sothat he would remain invisible to any one within the office, while yeteasily able to overhear every word spoken in the room. 

When he had completed his instructions to the stenographer, Burke turnedto Gilder and Demarest. 

"Now, this time, " he said energetically, "I'll be the one to do thetalking. And get this: Whatever you hear me say, don't you be surprised. Remember, we're dealing with crooks, and, when you're dealing withcrooks, you have to use crooked ways. "

There was a brief period of silence. Then, the door opened, and MaryTurner entered the office. She walked slowly forward, moving with thesmooth strength and grace that were the proof of perfect health and ofperfect poise, the correlation of mind and body in exactness. Her form, clearly revealed by the clinging evening dress, was a curving group ofgraces. The beauty of her face was enhanced, rather than lessened, bythe pallor of it, for the fading of the richer colors gave to the finefeatures an expression more spiritual, made plainer the underlyingqualities that her accustomed brilliance might half-conceal. She paidabsolutely no attention to the other two in the room, but went straightto the desk, and there halted, gazing with her softly penetrant eyes ofdeepest violet into the face of the Inspector. 

Under that intent scrutiny, Burke felt a challenge, set himself to matchcraft with craft. He was not likely to undervalue the wits of onewho had so often flouted him, who, even now, had placed him in apreposterous predicament by this entanglement over the death of a spy. But he was resolved to use his best skill to disarm her sophistication. His large voice was modulated to kindliness as he spoke in a casualmanner. 

"I just sent for you to tell you that you're free. "

Mary regarded the speaker with an impenetrable expression. Her tones asshe spoke were quite as matter-of-fact as his own had been. In them wasno wonder, no exultation. 

"Then, I can go, " she said, simply. 

"Sure, you can go, " Burke replied, amiably. 

Without any delay, yet without any haste, Mary glanced toward Gilderand Demarest, who were watching the scene closely. Her eyes were somehowappraising, but altogether indifferent. Then, she went toward the outerdoor of the office, still with that almost lackadaisical air. 

Burke waited rather impatiently until she had nearly reached the doorbefore he shot his bolt, with a fine assumption of carelessness in theannouncement. 

"Garson has confessed!"

Mary, who readily enough had already guessed the essential hypocrisy ofall this play, turned and confronted the Inspector, and answered withoutthe least trace of fear, but with the firmness of knowledge:

"Oh, no, he hasn't!"

Her attitude exasperated Burke. His voice roared out wrathfully. 

"What's the reason he hasn't?"

The music in the tones of the answer was a vocal rebuke. 

"Because he didn't do it. " She stated the fact as one without a hint ofany contradictory possibility. 

"Well, he says he did it!" Burke vociferated, still more loudly. 

Mary, in her turn, resorted to a bit of finesse, in order to learnwhether or not Garson had been arrested. She spoke with a trace ofindignation. 

"But how could he have done it, when he went----" she began. 

The Inspector fell a victim to her superior craft. His question cameeagerly. 

"Where did he go?"

Mary smiled for the first time since she had been in the room, and inthat smile the Inspector realized his defeat in the first passage ofthis game of intrigue between them. 

"You ought to know, " she said, sedately, "since you have arrested him, and he has confessed. "

Demarest put up a hand to conceal his smile over the police official'schagrin. Gilder, staring always at this woman who had come to be hisNemesis, was marveling over the beauty and verve of the one so hatinghim as to plan the ruin of his life and his son's. 

Burke was frantic over being worsted thus. To gain a diversion, hereverted to his familiar bullying tactics. His question burst raspingly. It was a question that had come to be constant within his brain duringthe last few hours, one that obsessed him, that fretted him sorely, almost beyond endurance. 

"Who shot Griggs?" he shouted. 

Mary rested serene in the presence of this violence. Her answer cappedthe climax of the officer's exasperation. 

"My husband shot a burglar, " she said, languidly. And then her insolencereached its culmination in a query of her own: "Was his name Griggs?" Itwas done with splendid art, with a splendid mastery of her own emotions, for, even as she spoke the words, she was remembering those shudderingseconds when she had stood, only a few hours ago, gazing down at theinert bulk that had been a man. 

Burke betook himself to another form of attack. 

"Oh, you know better than that, " he declared, truculently. "Yousee, we've traced the Maxim silencer. Garson himself bought it up inHartford. "

For the first time, Mary was caught off her guard. 

"But he told me----" she began, then became aware of her indiscretion, and checked herself. 

Burke seized on her lapse with avidity. 

"What did he tell you?" he questioned, eagerly. 

Now, Mary had regained her self-command, and she spoke calmly. 

"He told me, " she said, without a particle of hesitation, "that he hadnever seen one. Surely, if he had had anything of the sort, he wouldhave shown it to me then. "

"Probably he did, too!" Burke rejoined, without the least suspicion thathis surly utterance touched the truth exactly. "Now, see here, " he wenton, trying to make his voice affable, though with small success, for hewas excessively irritated by these repeated failures; "I can make it alot easier for you if you'll talk. Come on, now! Who killed Griggs?"

Mary cast off pretense finally, and spoke malignantly. 

"That's for you to find out, " she said, sneering. 

Burke pressed the button on the desk, and, when the doorman appeared, ordered that the prisoner be returned to her cell. 

But Mary stood rebellious, and spoke with a resumption of her cynicalscorn. 

"I suppose, " she said, with a glance of contempt toward Demarest, "thatit's useless for me to claim my constitutional rights, and demand to seea lawyer?"

Burke, too, had cast off pretense at last. 

"Yes, " he agreed, with an evil smirk, "you've guessed it right, thefirst time. "

Mary spoke to the District Attorney. 

"I believe, " she said, with a new dignity of bearing, "that such is myconstitutional right, is it not, Mr. Demarest?"

The lawyer sought no evasion of the issue. For that matter, he wascoming to have an increasing respect, even admiration, for this youngwoman, who endured insult and ignominy with a spirit so sturdy, andmet strategem with other strategem better devised. So, now, he made hisanswer with frank honesty. 

"It is your constitutional right, Miss Turner. "

Mary turned her clear eyes on the Inspector, and awaited from thatofficial a reply that was not forthcoming. Truth to tell, Burke was farfrom comfortable under that survey. 

"Well, Inspector?" she inquired, at last. 

Burke took refuge, as his wont was when too hard pressed, in a mightybellow. 

"The Constitution don't go here!" It was the best he could do, and itshamed him, for he knew its weakness. Again, wrath surged in him, andit surged high. He welcomed the advent of Cassidy, who came hurrying inwith a grin of satisfaction on his stolid face. 

"Say, Chief, " the detective said with animation, in response to Burke'sglance of inquiry, "we've got Garson. "

Mary's face fell, though the change of expression was almostimperceptible. Only Demarest, a student of much experience, observed thefleeting display of repressed emotion. When the Inspector took thoughtto look at her, she was as impassive as before. Yet, he was minded totry another ruse in his desire to defeat the intelligence of this woman. To this end, he asked Gilder and the District Attorney to withdraw, while he should have a private conversation with the prisoner. As shelistened to his request, Mary smiled again in sphinx-like fashion, andthere was still on her lips an expression that caused the official apang of doubt, when, at last, the two were left alone together, and hedarted a surreptitious glance toward her. Nevertheless, he pressed onhis device valiantly. 

"Now, " he said, with a marked softening of manner, "I'm going to be yourfriend. "

"Are you?" Mary's tone was non-committal. 

"Yes, " Burke declared, heartily. "And I mean it! Give up the truth aboutyoung Gilder. I know he shot Griggs, of course. But I'm not taking anystock in that burglar story--not a little bit! No court would, either. What was really back of the killing?" Burke's eyes narrowed cunningly. "Was he jealous of Griggs? Well, that's what he might do then. He'salways been a worthless young cub. A rotten deal like this wouldbe about his gait, I guess.... Tell me, now: Why did he shoot EddieGriggs?"

There was coarseness a-plenty in the Inspector's pretense, but itpossessed a solitary fundamental virtue: it played on the heart of thewoman whom he questioned, aroused it to wrath in defense of her mate. Ina second, all poise fled from this girl whose soul was blossoming in theblest realization that a man loved her purely, unselfishly. Her wordscame stumblingly in their haste. Her eyes were near to black in theiranger. 

"He didn't kill him! He didn't kill him!" she fairly hissed. "Why, he'sthe most wonderful man in the world. You shan't hurt him! Nobody shallhurt him! I'll fight to the end of my life for Dick Gilder!"

Burke was beaming joyously. At last--a long last!--his finesse had wonthe victory over this woman's subtleties. 

"Well, that's just what I thought, " he said, with smug content. "Andnow, then, who did shoot Griggs? We've got every one of the gang. They're all crooks. See here, " he went on, with a sudden change to therespectful in his manner, "why don't you start fresh? I'll give youevery chance in the world. I'm dead on the level with you this time. "

But he was too late. By now, Mary had herself well in hand again, vastlyashamed of the short period of self-betrayal caused by the official'sartifice against her heart. As she listened to the Inspector'sassurances, the mocking expression of her face was not encouraging tothat astute individual, but he persevered manfully. 

"Just you wait, " he went on cheerfully, "and I'll prove to you that I'mon the level about this, that I'm really your friend.... There was aletter came for you to your apartment. My men brought it down to me. I've read it. Here it is. I'll read it to you!"

He picked up an envelope, which had been lying on the desk, and drew outthe single sheet of paper it contained. Mary watched him, wondering muchmore than her expression revealed over this new development. Then, asshe listened, quick interest touched her features to a new life. In hereyes leaped emotions to make or mar a life. 

This was the letter:

"I can't go without telling you how sorry I am. There won't never be atime that I won't remember it was me got you sent up, that you did timein my place. I ain't going to forgive myself ever, and I swear I'm goingstraight always. 

"Your true friend, "HELEN MORRIS. "

For once, Burke showed a certain delicacy. When he had finished thereading, he said nothing for a long minute--only, sat with his cunningeyes on the face of the woman who was immobile there before him. And, as he looked on her in her slender elegance of form and gentlewomanlyloveliness of face, a loveliness intelligent and refined beyond that ofmost women, he felt borne in on his consciousness the fact that herewas one to be respected. He fought against the impression. It was to himpreposterous, for she was one of that underworld against which he wasruthlessly at war. Yet, he could not altogether overcome his instincttoward a half-reverent admiration.... And, as the letter proved, shehad been innocent at the outset. She had been the victim of a mistakenjustice, made outcast by the law she had never wronged.... His mood ofrespect was inevitable, since he had some sensibilities, though theywere coarsened, and they sensed vaguely the maelstrom of emotions thatnow swirled in the girl's breast. 

To Mary Turner, this was the wonderful hour. In it, the vindication ofher innocence was made complete. The story was there recorded in blackand white on the page written by Helen Morris. It mattered little--orinfinitely much!--that it came too late. She had gained her evil placein the world, was a notorious woman in fact, was even now a prisonerunder suspicion of murder. Nevertheless, she felt a thrill of ecstasyover this written document--which it had never occurred to her to wrestfrom the girl at the time of the oral confession. Now that it had beenproffered, the value of it loomed above almost all things else in theworld. It proclaimed undeniably the wrong under which she had suffered. She was not the thief the court had adjudged her. "Now, there's nobodyhere but just you and me. Come on, now--put me wise!"

Mary was again the resourceful woman who was glad to pit her brainagainst the contriving of those who fought her. So, at this moment, sheseemed pliant to the will of the man who urged her thus cunningly. Herquick glance around the office was of a sort to delude the Inspectorinto a belief that she was yielding to his lure. 

"Are you sure no one will ever know?" she asked, timorously. 

"Nobody but you and me, " Burke declared, all agog with anticipation ofvictory at last. "I give you my word!"

Mary met the gaze of the Inspector fully. In the same instant, she flashed on him a smile that was dazzling, the smile of a womantriumphant in her mastery of the situation. Her face was radiant, luminous with honest mirth. There was something simple and genuinein her beauty that thrilled the man before her, the man trying sovindictively to trap her to her own undoing. For all his grossness, Burke was of shrewd perceptions, and somewhere, half-submerged underthe sordid nature of his calling, was a love of things esthetic, aresponsiveness to the appeals of beauty. Now, as his glance searchedthe face of the girl who was bubbling with mirth, he experienced an oddwarming of his heart under the spell of her loveliness--a lovelinesswholly feminine, pervasive, wholesome. But, too, his soul shook in apremonition of catastrophe, for there was mischief in the beaming eyesof softest violet. There was a demon of mockery playing in the curves ofthe scarlet lips, as she smiled so winsomely. 

All his apprehensions were verified by her utterance. It came in a mostcasual voice, despite the dancing delight in her face. The tones weredrawled in the matter-of-fact fashion of statement that leads a listenerto answer without heed to the exact import of the question, unless veryalert, indeed.... This is what she said in that so-casual voice:

"I'm not speaking loud enough, am I, stenographer?"

And that industrious writer of shorthand notes, absorbed in his task, answered instantly from his hidden place in the corridor. 

"No, ma'am, not quite. "

Mary laughed aloud, while Burke sat dumfounded. She rose swiftly, andwent to the nearest window, and with a pull at the cord sent the shadeflying upward. For seconds, there was revealed the busy stenographer, bent over his pad. Then, the noise of the ascending shade, which hadbeen hammering on his consciousness, penetrated, and he looked up. Realization came, as he beheld the woman laughing at him through thewindow. Consternation beset him. He knew that, somehow, he had bungledfatally. A groan of distress burst from him, and he fled the place inignominious rout. 

There was another whose spirit was equally desirous of flight--Burke!Yet once again, he was beaten at his own game, his cunning made of noavail against the clever interpretation of this woman whom he assailed. He had no defense to offer. He did not care to meet her gaze justthen, since he was learning to respect her as one wronged, where hehad regarded her hitherto merely as of the flotsam and jetsam of thecriminal class. So, he avoided her eyes as she stood by the windowregarding him quizzically. In a panic of confusion quite new to him inhis years of experience, he pressed the button on his desk. 

The doorman appeared with that automatic precision which made himvaluable in his position, and the Inspector hailed the ready presencewith a feeling of profound relief. 

"Dan, take her back!" he said, feebly. 

Mary was smiling still as she went to the door. But she could not resistthe impulse toward retort. 

"Oh, yes, " she said, suavely; "you were right on the level with me, weren't you, Burke? Nobody here but you and me!" The words came in asing-song of mockery. 

The Inspector had nothing in the way of answer--only, sat motionlessuntil the door closed after her. Then, left alone, his sole audiblecomment was a single word--one he had learned, perhaps, from AggieLynch:

"Hell!"

CHAPTER XXIII. THE CONFESSION. 

Burke was a persistent man, and he had set himself to getting themurderer of Griggs. Foiled in his efforts thus far by the oppositionof Mary, he now gave himself over to careful thought as to a meansof procedure that might offer the best possibilities of success. Hisbeetling brows were drawn in a frown of perplexity for a full quarterof an hour, while he rested motionless in his chair, an unlightedcigar between his lips. Then, at last, his face cleared; a grin ofsatisfaction twisted his heavy mouth, and he smote the desk joyously. 

"It's a cinch it'll get 'im!" he rumbled, in glee. 

He pressed the button-call, and ordered the doorman to send in Cassidy. When the detective appeared a minute later, he went directly to hissubject with a straightforward energy usual to him in his work. 

"Does Garson know we've arrested the Turner girl and young Gilder?" And, when he had been answered in the negative: "Or that we've got ChicagoRed and Dacey here?"

"No, " Cassidy replied. "He hasn't been spoken to since we made thecollar.... He seems worried, " the detective volunteered. 

Burke's broad jowls shook from the force with which he snapped his jawstogether. 

"He'll be more worried before I get through with him!" he growled. He regarded Cassidy speculatively. "Do you remember the Third DegreeInspector Burns worked on McGloin? Well, " he went on, as the detectivenodded assent, "that's what I'm going to do to Garson. He's gotimagination, that crook! The things he don't know about are the thingshe's afraid of. After he gets in here, I want you to take his pals oneafter the other, and lock them up in the cells there in the corridor. The shades on the corridor windows here will be up, and Garson will seethem taken in. The fact of their being there will set his imagination toworking overtime, all right. "

Burke reflected for a moment, and then issued the final directions forthe execution of his latest plot. 

"When you get the buzzer from me, you have young Gilder and the Turnerwoman sent in. Then, after a while, you'll get another buzzer. When youhear that, come right in here, and tell me that the gang has squealed. I'll do the rest. Bring Garson here in just five minutes.... Tell Dan tocome in. "

As the detective went out, the doorman promptly entered, and thereatBurke proceeded with the further instructions necessary to the carryingout of his scheme. 

"Take the chairs out of the office, Dan, " he directed, "except mine andone other--that one!" He indicated a chair standing a little way fromone end of his desk. "Now, have all the shades up. " He chuckled as headded: "That Turner woman saved you the trouble with one. "

As the doorman went out after having fulfilled these commands, theInspector lighted the cigar which he had retained still in his mouth, and then seated himself in the chair that was set partly facing thewindows opening on the corridor. He smiled with anticipatory triumph ashe made sure that the whole length of the corridor with the barreddoors of the cells was plainly visible to one sitting thus. With a finalglance about to make certain that all was in readiness, he returned tohis chair, and, when the door opened, he was, to all appearances, busilyengaged in writing. 

"Here's Garson, Chief, " Cassidy announced. 

"Hello, Joe!" Burke exclaimed, with a seeming of careless friendliness, as the detective went out, and Garson stood motionless just within thedoor. 

"Sit down, a minute, won't you?" the Inspector continued, affably. Hedid not look up from his writing as he spoke. 

Garson's usually strong face was showing weak with fear. His chin, whichwas commonly very firm, moved a little from uneasy twitchings of hislips. His clear eyes were slightly clouded to a look of apprehension, as they roved the room furtively. He made no answer to the Inspector'sgreeting for a few moments, but remained standing without movement, poised alertly as if sensing some concealed peril. Finally, however, his anxiety found expression in words. His tone was pregnant with alarm, though he strove to make it merely complaining. 

"Say, what am I arrested for?" he protested. "I ain't done anything. "

Even now, Burke did not look up, and his pen continued to hurry over thepaper. 

"Who told you you were arrested?" he remarked, cheerfully, in hisblandest voice. 

Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust. 

"I don't have to be told, " he retorted, huffily. "I'm no collegepresident, but, when a cop grabs me and brings me down here, I've gotsense enough to know I'm pinched. "

The Inspector did not interrupt his work, but answered with the utmostgood nature. 

"Is that what they did to you, Joe? I'll have to speak to Cassidy aboutthat. Now, just you sit down, Joe, won't you? I want to have a littletalk with you. I'll be through here in a second. " He went on with thewriting. 

Garson moved forward slightly, to the single chair near the end of thedesk, and there seated himself mechanically. His face thus was turnedtoward the windows that gave on the corridor, and his eyes grew yet moreclouded as they rested on the grim doors of the cells. He writhed in hischair, and his gaze jumped from the cells to the impassive figure ofthe man at the desk. Now, the forger's nervousness increased momently itswept beyond his control. Of a sudden, he sprang up, and stepped closeto the Inspector. 

"Say, " he said, in a husky voice, "I'd like--I'd like to have a lawyer. "

"What's the matter with you, Joe?" the Inspector returned, always withthat imperturbable air, and without raising his head from the work thatso engrossed his attention. "You know, you're not arrested, Joe. Maybe, you never will be. Now, for the love of Mike, keep still, and let mefinish this letter. "

Slowly, very hesitatingly, Garson went back to the chair, and sankdown on it in a limp attitude of dejection wholly unlike his customarypostures of strength. Again, his fear-fascinated eyes went to the rowof cells that stood silently menacing on the other side of the corridorbeyond the windows. His face was tinged with gray. A physical sicknesswas creeping stealthily on him, as his thoughts held insistently to thecatastrophe that threatened. His intelligence was too keen to permita belief that Burke's manner of almost fulsome kindliness hid nothingominous--ominous with a hint of death for him in return for the death hehad wrought. 

Then, terror crystallized. His eyes were caught by a figure, the figureof Cassidy, advancing there in the corridor. And with the detectivewent a man whose gait was slinking, craven. A cell-door swung open, theprisoner stepped within, the door clanged to, the bolts shot into theirsockets noisily. 

Garson sat huddled, stricken--for he had recognized the victim thrustinto the cell before his eyes.... It was Dacey, one of his own croniesin crime--Dacey, who, the night before, had seen him kill Eddie Griggs. There was something concretely sinister to Garson in this fact ofDacey's presence there in the cell. 

Of a sudden, the forger cried out raucously:

"Say, Inspector, if you've got anything on me, I--I would----" The crydropped into unintelligible mumblings. 

Burke retained his manner of serene indifference to the other'sagitation. Still, his pen hurried over the paper; and he did not troubleto look up as he expostulated, half-banteringly. 

"Now, now! What's the matter with you, Joe? I told you that I wanted toask you a few questions. That's all. "

Garson leaped to his feet again resolutely, then faltered, andultimately fell back into the chair with a groan, as the Inspector wenton speaking. 

"Now, Joe, sit down, and keep still, I tell you, and let me get throughwith this job. It won't take me more than a minute more. "

But, after a moment, Garson's emotion forced hint to another appeal. 

"Say, Inspector----" he began. 

Then, abruptly, he was silent, his mouth still open to utter the wordsthat were now held back by horror. Again, he saw the detective walkingforward, out there in the corridor. And with him, as before, was asecond figure, which advanced slinkingly. Garson leaned forward in hischair, his head thrust out, watching in rigid suspense. Again, evenas before, the door swung wide, the prisoner slipped within, the doorclanged shut, the bolts clattered noisily into their sockets. 

And, in the watcher, terror grew--for he had seen the face of ChicagoRed, another of his pals, another who had seen him kill Griggs. For atime that seemed to him long ages of misery, Garson sat staring dazedlyat the closed doors of the tier of cells. The peril about him wasgrowing--growing, and it was a deadly peril! At last, he licked his drylips, and his voice broke in a throaty whisper. 

"Say, Inspector, if you've got anything against me, why----"

"Who said there was anything against you, Joe?" Burke rejoined, in avoice that was genially chiding. "What's the matter with you to-day, Joe? You seem nervous. " Still, the official kept on with his writing. 

"No, I ain't nervous, " Garson cried, with a feverish effort to appearcalm. "Why, what makes you think that? But this ain't exactly the placeyou'd pick out as a pleasant one to spend the morning. " He was silentfor a little, trying with all his strength to regain his self-control, but with small success. 

"Could I ask you a question?" he demanded finally, with more firmness inhis voice. 

"What is it?" Burke said. 

Garson cleared his throat with difficulty, and his voice was thick. 

"I was just going to say--" he began. Then, he hesitated, and wassilent, at a loss. 

"Well, what is it, Joe?" the Inspector prompted. 

"I was going to say--that is--well, if it's anything about Mary Turner, I don't know a thing--not a thing!"

It was the thought of possible peril to her that now, in an instant, hadcaused him to forget his own mortal danger. Where, before, he had beenshuddering over thoughts of the death-house cell that might be awaitinghim, he now had concern only for the safety of the woman he cherished. And there was a great grief in his soul; for it was borne in on him thathis own folly, in disobedience to her command, had led up to the murderof Griggs--and to all that might come of the crime. How could he evermake amends to her? At least, he could be brave here, for her sake, ifnot for his own. 

Burke believed that his opportunity was come. 

"What made you think I wanted to know anything about her?" hequestioned. 

"Oh, I can't exactly say, " Garson replied carelessly, in an attempt todissimulate his agitation. "You were up to the house, you know. Don'tyou see?"

"I did want to see her, that's a fact, " Burke admitted. He kept on withhis writing, his head bent low. "But she wasn't at her flat. I guess shemust have taken my advice, and skipped out. Clever girl, that!"

Garson contrived to present an aspect of comparative indifference. 

"Yes, " he agreed. "I was thinking of going West, myself, " he ventured. 

"Oh, were you?" Burke exclaimed; and, now, there was a new note inhis voice. His hand slipped into the pocket where was the pistol, andclutched it. He stared at Garson fiercely, and spoke with a rush of thewords:

"Why did you kill Eddie Griggs?"

"I didn't kill him!" The reply was quick enough, but it came weakly. Again, Garson was forced to wet his lips with a dry tongue, and toswallow painfully. "I tell you, I didn't kill him!" he repeated at last, with more force. 

Burke sneered his disbelief. 

"You killed him last night--with this!" he cried, viciously. On theinstant, the pistol leaped into view, pointed straight at Garson. "Why?"the Inspector shouted. "Come on, now! Why?"

"I didn't, I tell you!" Garson was growing stronger, since at lastthe crisis was upon him. He got to his feet with lithe swiftnessof movement, and sprang close to the desk. He bent his head forwardchallengingly, to meet the glare of his accuser's eyes. There was noflinching in his own steely stare. His nerves had ceased their janglingunder the tautening of necessity. 

"You did!" Burke vociferated. He put his whole will into the assertionof guilt, to batter down the man's resistance. "You did, I tell you! Youdid!"

Garson leaned still further forward, until his face was almost levelwith the Inspector's. His eyes were unclouded now, were blazing. Hisvoice came resonant in its denial. The entire pose of him was intrepid, dauntless. 

"And I tell you, I didn't!"

There passed many seconds, while the two men battled in silence, willwarring against will.... In the end, it was the murderer who triumphed. 

Suddenly, Burke dropped the pistol into his pocket, and lolled back inhis chair. His gaze fell away from the man confronting him. In the sameinstant, the rigidity of Garson's form relaxed, and he straightenedslowly. A tide of secret joy swept through him, as he realized hisvictory. But his outward expression remained unchanged. 

"Oh, well, " Burke exclaimed amiably, "I didn't really think you did, but I wasn't sure, so I had to take a chance. You understand, don't you, Joe?"

"Sure, I understand, " Garson replied, with an amiability equal to theInspector's own. 

Burke's manner continued very amicable as he went on speaking. 

"You see, Joe, anyhow, we've got the right party safe enough. You canbet on that!"

Garson resisted the lure. 

"If you don't want me----" he began suggestively; and he turned towardthe door to the outer hall. "Why, if you don't want me, I'll--getalong. "

"Oh, what's the hurry, Joe?" Burke retorted, with the effect of stoppingthe other short. He pressed the buzzer as the agreed signal to Cassidy. "Where did you say Mary Turner was last night?"

At the question, all Garson's fears for the woman rushed back on himwith appalling force. Of what avail his safety, if she were still inperil?

"I don't know where she was, " he exclaimed, doubtfully. He realized hisblunder even as the words left his lips, and sought to correct it asbest he might. "Why, yes, I do, too, " he went on, as if assailed bysudden memory. "I dropped into her place kind of late, and they saidshe'd gone to bed--headache, I guess.... Yes, she was home, of course. She didn't go out of the house, all night. " His insistence on the pointwas of itself suspicious, but eagerness to protect her stultified hiswits. 

Burke sat grim and silent, offering no comment on the lie. 

"Know anything about young Gilder?" he demanded. "Happen to know wherehe is now?" He arose and came around the desk, so that he stood close toGarson, at whom he glowered. 

"Not a thing!" was the earnest answer. But the speaker's fear roseswiftly, for the linking of these names was significant--frightfullysignificant!

The inner door opened, and Mary Turner entered the office. Garson withdifficulty suppressed the cry of distress that rose to his lips. Fora few moments, the silence was unbroken. Then, presently, Burke, by agesture, directed the girl to advance toward the center of the room. As she obeyed, he himself went a little toward the door, and, when itopened again, and Dick Gilder appeared, he interposed to check the youngman's rush forward as his gaze fell on his bride, who stood regardinghim with sad eyes. 

Garson stared mutely at the burly man in uniform who held theirdestinies in the hollow of a hand. His lips parted as if he were aboutto speak. Then, he bade defiance to the impulse. He deemed it safer forall that he should say nothing--now!... And it is very easy to saya word too many. And that one may be a word never to be unsaid--orgainsaid. 

Then, while still that curious, dynamic silence endured, Cassidy camebriskly into the office. By some magic of duty, he had contrived to givehis usually hebetudinous features an expression of enthusiasm. 

"Say, Chief, " the detective said rapidly, "they've squealed!"

Burke regarded his aide with an air intolerably triumphant. His voicecame smug:

"Squealed, eh?" His glance ran over Garson for a second, then madeits inquisition of Mary and of Dick Gilder. He did not give a look toCassidy as he put his question. "Do they tell the same story?" And then, when the detective had answered in the affirmative, he went on speakingin tones ponderous with self-complacency; and, now, his eyes heldsharply, craftily, on the woman. 

"I was right then, after all--right, all the time! Good enough!" Ofa sudden, his voice boomed somberly. "Mary Turner, I want you for themurder of----"

Garson's rush halted the sentence. He had leaped forward. His face wasrigid. He broke on the Inspector's words with a gesture of fury. Hisvoice came in a hiss:

"That's a damned lie!... I did it!"

CHAPTER XXIV. ANGUISH AND BLISS. 

Joe Garson had shouted his confession without a second of reflection. But the result must have been the same had he taken years of thought. Between him and her as the victim of the law, there could be nohesitation for choice. Indeed, just now, he had no heed to his own fate. The prime necessity was to save her, Mary, from the toils of the lawthat were closing around her. For himself, in the days to come, therewould be a ghastly dread, but there would never be regret over thecost of saving her. Perhaps, some other he might have let suffer in hisstead--not her! Even, had he been innocent, and she guilty of the crime, he would still have taken the burden of it on his own shoulders. He hadsaved her from the waters--he would save her until the end, as faras the power in him might lie. It was thus that, with the primitivedirectness of his reverential love for the girl, he counted no sacrificetoo great in her behalf. Joe Garson was not a good man, at the worldesteems goodness. On the contrary, he was distinctly an evil one, a menace to the society on which he preyed constantly. But his goodqualities, if few, were of the strongest fiber, rooted in the deeps ofhim. He loathed treachery. His one guiltiness in this respect had been, curiously enough, toward Mary herself, in the scheme of the burglary, which she had forbidden. But, in the last analysis, here his deceithad been designed to bring affluence to her. It was his abhorrenceof treachery among pals that had driven him to the murder of thestool-pigeon in a fit of ungovernable passion. He might have stayed hishand then, but for the gusty rage that swept him on to the crime. Nonethe less, had he spared the man, his hatred of the betrayer would havebeen the same.... And the other virtue of Joe Garson was the complementof this--his own loyalty, a loyalty that made him forget self utterlywhere he loved. The one woman who had ever filled his heart was Mary, and for her his life were not too much to give. 

The suddenness of it all held Mary voiceless for long seconds. She wasfrozen with horror of the event. 

When, at last, words came, they were a frantic prayer of protest. 

"No, Joe! No! Don't talk--don't talk!"

Burke, immensely gratified, went nimbly to his chair, and thencesurveyed the agitated group with grisly pleasure. 

"Joe has talked, " he said, significantly. 

Mary, shaken as she was by the fact of Garson's confession, neverthelessretained her presence of mind sufficiently to resist with all herstrength. 

"He did it to protect me, " she stated, earnestly. 

The Inspector disdained such futile argument. As the doorman appeared inanswer to the buzzer, he directed that the stenographer be summoned atonce. 

"We'll have the confession in due form, " he remarked, gazing pleasedlyon the three before him. 

"He's not going to confess, " Mary insisted, with spirit. 

But Burke was not in the least impressed. He disregarded her completely, and spoke mechanically to Garson the formal warning required by the law. 

"You are hereby cautioned that anything you say may be used againstyou. " Then, as the stenographer entered, he went on with livelyinterest. "Now, Joe!"

Yet once again, Mary protested, a little wildly. 

"Don't speak, Joe! Don't say a word till we can get a lawyer for you!"

The man met her pleading eyes steadily, and shook his head in refusal. 

"It's no use, my girl, " Burke broke in, harshly. "I told you I'dget you. I'm going to try you and Garson, and the whole gang formurder--yes, every one of you.... And you, Gilder, " he continued, lowering on the young man who had defied him so obstinately, "you'll goto the House of Detention as a material witness. " He turned his gaze toGarson again, and spoke authoritatively: "Come on now, Joe!"

Garson went a step toward the desk, and spoke decisively. 

"If I come through, you'll let her go--and him?" he added as anafterthought, with a nod toward Dick Gilder. 

"Oh, Joe, don't!" Mary cried, bitterly. "We'll spend every dollar we canraise to save you!"

"Now, it's no use, " the Inspector complained. "You're only wasting time. He's said that he did it. That's all there is to it. Now that we're surehe's our man, he hasn't got a chance in the world. "

"Well, how about it?" Garson demanded, savagely. "Do they go clear, if Icome through?"

"We'll get the best lawyers in the country, " Mary persisted, desperately. "We'll save you, Joe--we'll save you!"

Garson regarded the distraught girl with wistful eyes. But there wasno trace of yielding in his voice as he replied, though he spoke verysorrowfully. 

"No, you can't help me, " he said, simply. "My time has come, Mary.... And I can save you a lot of trouble. "

"He's right there, " Burke ejaculated. "We've got him cold. So, what'sthe use of dragging you two into it?"

"Then, they go clear?" Garson exclaimed, eagerly. "They ain't even to becalled as witnesses?"

Burke nodded assent. 

"You're on!" he agreed. 

"Then, here goes!" Garson cried; and he looked expectantly toward thestenographer. 

The strain of it all was sapping the will of the girl, who saw the manshe so greatly esteemed for his service to her and his devotion aboutto condemn himself to death. She grew half-hysterical. Her words cameconfusedly:

"No, Joe! No, no, no!"

Again, Garson shook his head in absolute refusal of her plea. 

"There's no other way out, " he declared, wearily. "I'm goingthrough with it. " He straightened a little, and again looked at thestenographer. His voice came quietly, without any tremulousnesss. 

"My name is Joe Garson. "

"Alias?" Burke suggested. 

"Alias nothing!" came the sharp retort. "Garson's my monaker. I shotEnglish Eddie, because he was a skunk, and a stool-pigeon, and he gotjust what was coming to him. " Vituperation beyond the mere words beat inhis voice now. 

Burke twisted uneasily in his chair. 

"Now, now!" he objected, severely. "We can't take a confession likethat. "

Garson shook his head--spoke with fiercer hatred, "because he was askunk, and a stool-pigeon, " he repeated. "Have you got it?" And then, asthe stenographer nodded assent, he went on, less violently: "I croakedhim just as he was going to call the bulls with a police-whistle. I useda gun with smokeless powder. It had a Maxim silencer on it, so that itdidn't make any noise. "

Garson paused, and the set despair of his features lightened a little. Into his voice came a tone of exultation indescribably ghastly. Itwas born of the eternal egotism of the criminal, fattening vanity ingloating over his ingenuity for evil. Garson, despite his two greatvirtues, had the vices of his class. Now, he stared at Burke with aquizzical grin crooking his lips. 

"Say, " he exclaimed, "I'll bet it's the first time a guy was evercroaked with one of them things! Ain't it?"

The Inspector nodded affirmation. There was sincere admiration inhis expression, for he was ready at all times to respect the personalabilities of the criminals against whom he waged relentless war. 

"That's right, Joe!" he said, with perceptible enthusiasm. 

"Some class to that, eh?" Garson demanded, still with that gruesome airof boasting. "I got the gun, and the Maxim-silencer thing, off a fencein Boston, " he explained. "Say, that thing cost me sixty dollars, andit's worth every cent of the money.... Why, they'll remember me as thefirst to spring one of them things, won't they?"

"They sure will, Joe!" the Inspector conceded. 

"Nobody knew I had it, " Garson continued, dropping his braggart mannerabruptly. 

At the words, Mary started, and her lips moved as if she were about tospeak. 

Garson, intent on her always, though he seemed to look only at Burke, observed the effect on her, and repeated his words swiftly, with awarning emphasis that gave the girl pause. 

"Nobody knew I had it--nobody in the world!" he declared. "And nobodyhad anything to do with the killing but me. "

Burke put a question that was troubling him much, concerning the motivethat lay behind the shooting of Griggs. 

"Was there any bad feeling between you and Eddie Griggs?"

Garson's reply was explicit. 

"Never till that very minute. Then, I learned the truth about whathe'd framed up with you. " The speaker's voice reverted to its formerfierceness in recollection of the treachery of one whom he had trusted. 

"He was a stool-pigeon, and I hated his guts! That's all, " he concluded, with brutal candor. 

The Inspector moved restlessly in his chair. He had only detestationfor the slain man, yet there was something morbidly distasteful in thethought that he himself had contrived the situation which had resultedin the murder of his confederate. It was only by an effort that he shookoff the vague feeling of guilt. 

"Nothing else to say?" he inquired. 

Garson reflected for a few seconds, then made a gesture of negation. 

"Nothing else, " he declared. "I croaked him, and I'm glad I done it. Hewas a skunk. That's all, and it's enough. And it's all true, so help meGod!"

The Inspector nodded dismissal to the stenographer, with an air ofrelief. 

"That's all, Williams, " he said, heavily. "He'll sign it as soon asyou've transcribed the notes. "

Then, as the stenographer left the room, Burke turned his gaze on thewoman, who stood there in a posture of complete dejection, her white, anguished face downcast. There was triumph in the Inspector's voiceas he addressed her, for his professional pride was full-fed by thisvictory over his foes. But there was, too, an undertone of a feelingsofter than pride, more generous, something akin to real commiserationfor this unhappy girl who drooped before him, suffering so poignantlyin the knowledge of the fate that awaited the man who had saved her, whohad loved her so unselfishly. 

"Young woman, " Burke said briskly, "it's just like I told you. You can'tbeat the law. Garson thought he could--and now----!" He broke off, witha wave of his hand toward the man who had just sentenced himself todeath in the electric-chair. 

"That's right, " Garson agreed, with somber intensity. His eyes weregrown clouded again now, and his voice dragged leaden. "That's right, Mary, " he repeated dully, after a little pause. "You can't beat thelaw!"

There followed a period of silence, in which great emotions were vibrantfrom heart to heart. Garson was thinking of Mary, and, with the thought, into his misery crept a little comfort. At least, she would go free. That had been in the bargain with Burke. And there was the boy, too. Hiseyes shot a single swift glance toward Dick Gilder, and his satisfactionincreased as he noted the alert poise of the young man's body, thestrained expression of the strong face, the gaze of absorbed yearningwith which he regarded Mary. There could be no doubt concerning thedepth of the lad's love for the girl. Moreover, there were manlyqualities in him to work out all things needful for her protectionthrough life. Already, he had proved his devotion, and that abundantly, his unswerving fidelity to her, and the force within him that made theseworthy in some measure of her. 

Garson felt no least pang of jealousy. Though he loved the woman withthe single love of his life, he had never, somehow, hoped aught forhimself. There was even something almost of the paternal in the purityof his love, as if, indeed, by the fact of restoring her to life he hadtaken on himself the responsibility of a parent. He knew that the boyworshiped her, would do his best for her, that this best would sufficefor her happiness in time. Garson, with the instinct of love, guessedthat Mary had in truth given her heart all unaware to the husband whomshe had first lured only for the lust of revenge. Garson nodded hishead in a melancholy satisfaction. His life was done: hers was justbeginning, now.... But she would remember him--oh, yes, always! Mary wasloyal. 

The man checked the trend of his thoughts by a mighty effort of will. He must not grow maudlin here. He spoke again to Mary, with a certaindignity. 

"No, you can't beat the law!" He hesitated a little, then went on, witha certain curious embarrassment. "And this same old law says a womanmust stick to her man. "

The girl's eyes met his with passionate sorrow in their misty deeps. Garson gave a significant glance toward Dick Gilder, then his gazereturned to her. There was a smoldering despair in that look. Therewere, as well, an entreaty and a command. 

"So, " he went on, "you must go along with him, Mary.... Won't you? It'sthe best thing to do. "

The girl could not answer. There was a clutch on her throat just then, which would not relax at the call of her will. 

The tension of a moment grew, became pervasive. Burke, accustomed ashe was to scenes of dramatic violence, now experienced an altogetherunfamiliar thrill. As for Garson, once again the surge of feelingthreatened to overwhelm his self-control. He must not break down! ForMary's sake, he must show himself stoical, quite undisturbed in thissupreme hour. 

Of a sudden, an inspiration came to him, a means to snap the tension, to create a diversion wholly efficacious. He would turn to his boastingagain, would call upon his vanity, which he knew well as his chieffoible, and make it serve as the foil against his love. He strovemanfully to throw off the softer mood. In a measure, at least, hewon the fight--though always, under the rush of this vaunting, therethrobbed the anguish of his heart. 

"You want to cut out worrying about me, " he counseled, bravely. "Why, I ain't worrying any, myself--not a little bit! You see, it's somethingnew I've pulled off. Nobody ever put over anything like it before. "

He faced Burke with a grin of gloating again. 

"I'll bet there'll be a lot of stuff in the newspapers about this, andmy picture, too, in most of 'em! What?"

The man's manner imposed on Burke, though Mary felt the torment that hisvainglorying was meant to mask. 

"Say, " Garson continued to the Inspector, "if the reporters want anypictures of me, could I have some new ones taken? The one you've got ofme in the Gallery is over ten years old. I've taken off my beard sincethen. Can I have a new one?" He put the question with an eagerness thatseemed all sincere. 

Burke answered with a fine feeling of generosity. 

"Sure, you can, Joe! I'll send you up to the Gallery right now. "

"Immense!" Garson cried, boisterously. He moved toward Dick Gilder, walking with a faint suggestion of swagger to cover the nervous tremorthat had seized him. 

"So long, young fellow!" he exclaimed, and held out his hand. "You'vebeen on the square, and I guess you always will be. "

Dick had no scruple in clasping that extended hand very warmly in hisown. He had no feeling of repulsion against this man who had committeda murder in his presence. Though he did not quite understand the other'sheart, his instinct as a lover taught him much, so that he pitiedprofoundly--and respected, too. 

"We'll do what we can for you, " he said, simply. 

"That's all right, " Garson replied, with such carelessness of manner ashe could contrive. Then, at last, he turned to Mary. This parting mustbe bitter, and he braced himself with all the vigors of his will tocombat the weakness that leaped from his soul. 

As he came near, the girl could hold herself in leash no longer. Shethrew herself on his breast. Her arms wreathed about his neck. Greatsobs racked her. 

"Oh, Joe, Joe!" The gasping cry was of utter despair. 

Garson's trembling hand patted the girl's shoulder very softly, a caressof infinite tenderness. 

"That's all right!" he murmured, huskily. "That's all right, Mary!"There was a short silence; and then he went on speaking, more firmly. "You know, he'll look after you. "

He would have said more, but he could not. It seemed to him that thesobs of the girl caught in his own throat. Yet, presently, he stroveonce again, with every reserve of his strength; and, finally, he so farmastered himself that he could speak calmly. The words were uttered witha subtle renunciation that was this man's religion. 

"Yes, he'll take care of you. Why, I'd like to see the two of you withabout three kiddies playing round the house. "

He looked up over the girl's shoulder, and beckoned with his head toDick, who came forward at the summons. 

"Take good care of her, won't you?"

He disengaged himself gently from the girl's embrace, and set her withinthe arms of her husband, where she rested quietly, as if unable to fightlonger against fate's decree. 

"Well, so long!"

He dared not utter another word, but turned blindly, and went, stumblinga little, toward the doorman, who had appeared in answer to theInspector's call. 

"To the Gallery, " Burke ordered, curtly. 

Garson went on without ever a glance back.... His strength was at anend. 

 * * * * *

There was a long silence in the room after Garson's passing. It wasbroken, at last, by the Inspector, who got up from his chair, andadvanced toward the husband and wife. In his hand, he carried a sheet ofpaper, roughly scrawled. As he stopped before the two, and clearedhis throat, Mary withdrew herself from Dick's arms, and regarded theofficial with brooding eyes from out her white face. Something strangein her enemy's expression caught her attention, something that set newhopes alive within her in a fashion wholly inexplicable, so that shewaited with a sudden, breathless eagerness. 

Burke extended the sheet of paper to the husband. 

"There's a document, " he said gruffly. "It's a letter from one HelenMorris, in which she sets forth the interesting fact that she pulled offa theft in the Emporium, for which your Mrs. Gilder here did time. Youknow, your father got your Mrs. Gilder sent up for three years for thatsame job--which she didn't do! That's why she had such a grudge againstyour father, and against the law, too!"

Burke chuckled, as the young man took the paper, wonderingly. 

"I don't know that I blame her much for that grudge, when all's said anddone.... You give that document to your father. It sets her right. He'sa just man according to his lights, your father. He'll do all he can tomake things right for her, now he knows. "

Once again, the Inspector paused to chuckle. 

"I guess she'll keep within the law from now on, " he continued, contentedly, "without getting a lawyer to tell her how.... Now, you twolisten. I've got to go out a minute. When I get back, I don't want tofind anybody here--not anybody! Do you get me?"

He strode from the room, fearful lest further delay might involve himin sentimental thanksgivings from one or the other, or both--and Burkehated sentiment as something distinctly unprofessional. 

 * * * * *

When the official was gone, the two stood staring mutely each at theother through long seconds. What she read in the man's eyes set thewoman's heart to beating with a new delight. A bloom of exquisite rosegrew in the pallor of her cheeks. The misty light in the violet eyesshone more radiant, yet more softly. The crimson lips curved to strangetenderness.... What he read in her eyes set the husband's pulses tobounding. He opened his arms in an appeal that was a command. Mary wentforward slowly, without hesitation, in a bliss that forgot every sorrowfor that blessed moment, and cast herself on his breast.