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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Within the Law, by Marvin Dana
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Within the Law
+       From the Play of Bayard Veiller
+
+Author: Marvin Dana
+
+Posting Date: August 10, 2008 [EBook #905]
+Release Date: May, 1997
+Last Updated: March 15, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITHIN THE LAW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Keller
+
+
+
+
+
+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 panel
+of light in the wall. Just at the outset, the act of seeing made not the
+least impression on her numbed brain. For a long time she continued to
+regard the dim illumination in the wall with the same passive fixity
+of gaze. Apathy still lay upon her crushed spirit. In a vague way, she
+realized her own inertness, and rested in it gratefully, subtly fearful
+lest she again arouse to the full horror of her plight. In a curious
+subconscious fashion, she was striving to hold on to this deadness
+of sensation, thus to win a little respite from the torture that had
+exhausted her soul.
+
+Of a sudden, her eyes noted the black lines that lay across the panel
+of light. And, in that instant, her spirit was quickened once again. The
+clouds lifted from her brain. Vision was clear now. Understanding seized
+the full import of this hideous thing on which she looked.... For the
+panel of light was a window, set high within a wall of stone. The rigid
+lines of black that crossed it were bars--prison bars. It was still
+true, then: She was in a cell of the Tombs.
+
+The girl, crouching miserably on the narrow bed, maintained her fixed
+watching of the window--that window which was a symbol of her utter
+despair. Again, agony wrenched within her. She did not weep: long ago
+she had exhausted the relief of tears. She did not pace to and fro in
+the comfort of physical movement with which the caged beast finds a
+mocking imitation of liberty: long ago, her physical vigors had been
+drained under stress of anguish. Now, she was well-nigh incapable of any
+bodily activity. There came not even so much as the feeblest moan from
+her lips. The torment was far too racking for such futile fashion of
+lamentation. She merely sat there in a posture of collapse. To all
+outward seeming, nerveless, emotionless, an abject creature. Even
+the eyes, which held so fixedly their gaze on the window, were quite
+expressionless. Over them lay a film, like that which veils the eyes of
+some dead thing. Only an occasional languid motion of the lids revealed
+the life that remained.
+
+So still the body. Within the soul, fury raged uncontrolled. For all the
+desolate calm of outer seeming, the tragedy of her fate was being acted
+with frightful vividness there in memory. In that dreadful remembrance,
+her spirit was rent asunder anew by realization of that which had become
+her portion.... It was then, as once again the horrible injustice of her
+fate racked consciousness with its tortures, that the seeds of revolt
+were implanted in her heart. The thought of revenge gave to her the
+first meager gleam of comfort that had lightened her moods through many
+miserable days and nights. Those seeds of revolt were to be nourished
+well, were to grow into their flower--a poison flower, developed through
+the three years of convict life to which the judge had sentenced her.
+
+The girl was appalled by the mercilessness of a destiny that had so
+outraged right. She was wholly innocent of having done any wrong. She
+had struggled through years of privation to keep herself clean and
+wholesome, worthy of those gentlefolk from whom she drew her blood.
+And earnest effort had ended at last under an overwhelming
+accusation--false, yet none the less fatal to her. This accusation,
+after soul-wearying delays, had culminated to-day in conviction. The
+sentence of the court had been imposed upon her: that for three years
+she should be imprisoned.... This, despite her innocence. She had
+endured much--miserably much!--for honesty's sake. There wrought the
+irony of fate. She had endured bravely for honesty's sake. And the end
+of it all was shame unutterable. There was nought left her save a wild
+dream of revenge against the world that had martyrized her. “Vengeance
+is mine. I will repay, saith the Lord.”... The admonition could not
+touch her now. Why should she care for the decrees of a God who had
+abandoned her!
+
+There had been nothing in the life of Mary Turner, before the
+catastrophe came, to distinguish it from many another. Its most
+significant details were of a sordid kind, familiar to poverty. Her
+father had been an unsuccessful man, as success is esteemed by this
+generation of Mammon-worshipers. He was a gentleman, but the trivial
+fact is of small avail to-day. He was of good birth, and he was the
+possessor of an inherited competence. He had, as well, intelligence, but
+it 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 birth
+of the single child of the union, Mary. Afterward, in his distress over
+this loss, Ray Turner seemed even more incompetent for the management of
+business affairs. As the years passed, the daughter grew toward maturity
+in an experience of ever-increasing penury. Nevertheless, there was no
+actual want of the necessities of life, though always a woful lack of
+its elegancies. The girl was in the high-school, when her father finally
+gave over his rather feeble effort of living. Between parent and child,
+the intimacy had been unusually close. At his death, the father left her
+a character well instructed in the excellent principles that had been
+his own. That was his sole legacy to her. Of worldly goods, not the
+value of a pin.
+
+Yet, measured according to the stern standards of adversity, Mary was
+fortunate. Almost at once, she procured a humble employment in the
+Emporium, the great department store owned by Edward Gilder. To be
+sure, the wage was infinitesimal, while the toil was body-breaking
+soul-breaking. Still, the pittance could be made to sustain life, and
+Mary was blessed with both soul and body to sustain much. So she merged
+herself in the army of workers--in the vast battalion of those that give
+their entire selves to a labor most stern and unremitting, and most ill
+rewarded.
+
+Mary, nevertheless, avoided the worst perils of her lot. She did not
+flinch under privation, but went her way through it, if not serenely, at
+least without ever a thought of yielding to those temptations that beset
+a girl who is at once poor and charming. Fortunately for her, those
+in closest authority over her were not so deeply smitten as to make
+obligatory on her a choice between complaisance and loss of position.
+She knew of situations like that, the cul-de-sac of chastity, worse
+than any devised by a Javert. In the store, such things were matters of
+course. 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 great
+commercial activity, humming with vicious gossip, all alive with
+quips from the worldly wise. At the very outset of her employment, the
+sixteen-year-old girl learned that she might eke out the six dollars
+weekly by trading on her personal attractiveness to those of the
+opposite sex. The idea was repugnant to her; not only from the maidenly
+instinct of purity, but also from the moral principles woven into her
+character by the teachings of a father wise in most things, though a
+fool in finance. Thus, she remained unsmirched, though well informed as
+to the verities of life. She preferred purity and penury, rather than a
+slight pampering of the body to be bought by its degradation. Among her
+fellows were some like herself; others, unlike. Of her own sort, in this
+single particular, were the two girls with whom she shared a cheap room.
+Their common decency in attitude toward the other sex was the unique
+bond of union. In their association, she found no real companionship.
+Nevertheless, they were wholesome enough. Otherwise they were
+illiterate, altogether uncongenial.
+
+In such wise, through five dreary years, Mary Turner lived. Nine hours
+daily, she stood behind a counter. She spent her other waking hours
+in obligatory menial labors: cooking her own scant meals over the gas;
+washing and ironing, for the sake of that neat appearance which was
+required of her by those in authority at the Emporium--yet, more
+especially, necessary for her own self-respect. With a mind keen and
+earnest, she contrived some solace from reading and studying, since
+the free library gave her this opportunity. So, though engaged in
+stultifying occupation through most of her hours, she was able to find
+food for mental growth. Even, in the last year, she had reached a point
+of development whereat she began to study seriously her own position in
+the world's economy, to meditate on a method of bettering it. Under this
+impulse, hope mounted high in her heart. Ambition was born. By candid
+comparison of herself with others about her, she realized the fact that
+she possessed an intelligence beyond the average. The training by her
+father, too, had been of a superior kind. There was as well, at the back
+vaguely, the feeling of particular self-respect that belongs inevitably
+to the possessor of good blood. Finally, she demurely enjoyed a modest
+appreciation of her own physical advantages. In short, she had
+beauty, brains and breeding. Three things of chief importance to any
+woman--though there be many minds as to which may be chief among the
+three.
+
+I have said nothing specific thus far as to the outer being of Mary
+Turner--except as to filmed eyes and a huddled form. But, in a happier
+situation, the girl were winning enough. Indeed, more! She was one of
+those that possess an harmonious beauty, with, too, the penetrant charm
+that 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 in
+the Tombs cell, it would have required a most analytical observer to
+determine the actualities of her loveliness. Her form was disguised by
+the droop of exhaustion. Her complexion showed the pallor of sorrowful
+vigils. Her face was no more than a mask of misery. Yet, the shrewd
+observer, if a lover of beauty, might have found much for delight, even
+despite the concealment imposed by her present condition. Thus, the
+stormy glory of her dark hair, great masses that ran a riot of shining
+ripples and waves. And the straight line of the nose, not too thin, yet
+fine enough for the rapture of a Praxiteles. And the pink daintiness of
+the ear-tips, which peered warmly from beneath the pall of tresses. One
+could know nothing accurately of the complexion now. But it were easy to
+guess that in happier places it would show of a purity to entice, with a
+gentle blooming of roses in the cheeks. Even in this hour of unmitigated
+evil, the lips revealed a curving beauty of red--not quite crimson,
+though near enough for the word; not quite scarlet either; only, a red
+gently enchanting, which turned one's thoughts toward tenderness--with
+a hint of desire. It was, too, a generous mouth, not too large; still,
+happily, not so small as those modeled by Watteau. It was
+altogether winsome--more, it was generous and true, desirable for
+kisses--yes!--more desirable for strength and for faith.
+
+Like every intelligent woman, Mary had taken the trouble to reinforce
+the worth of her physical attractiveness. The instinct of sex was
+strong in her, as it must be in every normal woman, since that appeal is
+nature's law. She kept herself supple and svelte by many exercises, at
+which her companions in the chamber scoffed, with the prudent warning
+that more work must mean more appetite. With arms still aching from
+the lifting of heavy bolts of cloth to and fro from the shelves, she
+nevertheless was at pains nightly to brush with the appointed two
+hundred strokes the thick masses of her hair. Even here, in the sordid
+desolation of the cell, the lustrous sheen witnessed the fidelity of
+her care. So, in each detail of her, the keen observer might have found
+adequate reason for admiration. There was the delicacy of the hands,
+with fingers tapering, with nails perfectly shaped, neither too dull
+nor too shining. And there were, too, finally, the trimly shod feet, set
+rather primly on the floor, small, and arched like those of a Spanish
+Infanta. In truth, Mary Turner showed the possibilities at least, if not
+just now the realities, of a very beautiful woman.
+
+Naturally, in this period of grief, the girl's mind had no concern with
+such external merits over which once she had modestly exulted. All
+her present energies were set to precise recollection of the ghastly
+experience 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 a
+certain department, that in which Mary worked. The detective was alert.
+Some valuable silks were missed. Search followed immediately. The goods
+were found in Mary's locker. That was enough. She was charged with the
+theft. She protested innocence--only to be laughed at in derision by
+her accusers. Every thief declares innocence. Mr. Gilder himself was
+emphatic against her. The thieving had been long continued. An example
+must be made. The girl was arrested.
+
+The crowded condition of the court calendar kept her for three months in
+the Tombs, awaiting trial. She was quite friendless. To the world, she
+was only a thief in duress. At the last, the trial was very short. Her
+lawyer was merely an unfledged practitioner assigned to her defense as
+a formality of the court. This novice in his profession was so grateful
+for the first recognition ever afforded him that he rather assisted than
+otherwise the District Attorney in the prosecution of the case.
+
+At the end, twelve good men and true rendered a verdict of guilty
+against the shuddering girl in the prisoner's dock.
+
+So simple the history of Mary Turner's trial.... The sentence of the
+judge was lenient--only three years!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. A CHEERFUL PRODIGAL.
+
+That which was the supreme tragedy to the broken girl in the cell merely
+afforded rather agreeable entertainment to her former fellows of the
+department store. Mary Turner throughout her term of service there had
+been without real intimates, so that now none was ready to mourn over
+her fate. Even the two room-mates had felt some slight offense, since
+they sensed the superiority of her, though vaguely. Now, they found
+a smug satisfaction in the fact of her disaster as emphasizing very
+pleasurably their own continuance in respectability.
+
+As many a philosopher has observed, we secretly enjoy the misfortunes of
+others, particularly of our friends, since they are closest to us. Most
+persons hasten to deny this truth in its application to themselves. They
+do so either because from lack of clear understanding they are not quite
+honest with themselves, from lack of clear introspection, or because, as
+may 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 troubles
+of others. Contemplation of such suffering renders more striking the
+contrasted well-being of our own lot. We need the pains of others
+to serve as background for our joys--just as sin is essential as the
+background for any appreciation of virtue, even any knowledge of its
+existence.... So now, on the day of Mary Turner's trial, there was a
+subtle gaiety of gossipings to and fro through the store. The girl's
+plight was like a shuttlecock driven hither and yon by the battledores
+of many tongues. It was the first time in many years that one of the
+employees had been thus accused of theft. Shoplifters were so common as
+to be a stale topic. There was a refreshing novelty in this case,
+where one of themselves was the culprit. Her fellow workers chatted
+desultorily of her as they had opportunity, and complacently thanked
+their gods that they were not as she--with reason. Perhaps, a very few
+were kindly hearted enough to feel a touch of sympathy for this ruin of
+a life.
+
+Of such was Smithson, a member of the executive staff, who did not
+hesitate to speak his mind, though none too forcibly. As for that,
+Smithson, while the possessor of a dignity nourished by years of
+floor-walking, was not given to the holding of vigorous opinions. Yet,
+his comment, meager as it was, stood wholly in Mary's favor. And he
+spoke with a certain authority, since he had given official attention to
+the girl.
+
+Smithson stopped Sarah Edwards, Mr. Gilder's private secretary, as she
+was passing through one of the departments that morning, to ask her if
+the owner had yet reached his office.
+
+“Been and gone,” was the secretary's answer, with the terseness
+characteristic of her.
+
+“Gone!” Smithson repeated, evidently somewhat disturbed by the
+information. “I particularly wanted to see him.”
+
+“He'll be back, all right,” Sarah vouchsafed, amiably. “He went
+down-town, to the Court of General Sessions. The judge sent for him
+about the Mary Turner case.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I remember now,” Smithson exclaimed. Then he added, with a
+trace of genuine feeling, “I hope the poor girl gets off. She was a nice
+girl--quite the lady, you know, Miss Edwards.”
+
+“No, I don't know,” Sarah rejoined, a bit tartly. Truth to tell, the
+secretary was haunted by a grim suspicion that she herself was not quite
+the lady of her dreams, and never would be able to acquire the graces of
+the Vere De Vere. For Sarah, while a most efficient secretary, was not
+in her person of that slender elegance which always characterized her
+favorite heroines in the novels she affected. On the contrary, she was
+of a sort to have gratified Byron, who declared that a woman in her
+maturity should be plump. Now, she recalled with a twinge of envy that
+the accused girl had been of an aristocratic slimness of form. “Oh, did
+you know her?” she questioned, without any real interest.
+
+Smithson answered with that bland stateliness of manner which was the
+fruit of floor-walking politeness.
+
+“Well, I couldn't exactly say I knew her, and yet I might say, after a
+manner of speaking, that I did--to a certain extent. You see, they put
+her in my department when she first came here to work. She was a good
+saleswoman, as saleswomen go. For the matter of that,” he added with a
+sudden access of energy, “she was the last girl in the world I'd take
+for a thief.” He displayed some evidences of embarrassment over the
+honest feeling into which he had been betrayed, and made haste to
+recover his usual business manner, as he continued formally. “Will you
+please let me know when Mr. Gilder arrives? There are one or two little
+matters I wish to discuss with him.”
+
+“All right!” Sarah agreed briskly, and she hurried on toward the private
+office.
+
+The secretary was barely seated at her desk when the violent opening of
+the 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-free
+assurance, his face radiant. But, as his glance went to the empty
+arm-chair at the desk, he halted abruptly, and his expression changed to
+one of disappointment.
+
+“Not here!” he grumbled. Then, once again the smile was on his lips
+as his eyes fell on the secretary, who had now risen to her feet in a
+flutter of excitement.
+
+“Why, Mr. Dick!” Sarah gasped.
+
+“Hello, Sadie!” came the genial salutation. The young man advanced and
+shook hands with her warmly. “I'm home again. Where's Dad?”
+
+Even as he asked the question, the quick sobering of his face bore
+witness to his disappointment over not finding his father in the office.
+For such was the relationship of the owner of the department store to
+this new arrival on the scene. And in the patent chagrin under which the
+son now labored was to be found a certain indication of character not
+to be disregarded. Unlike many a child, he really loved his father. The
+death of the mother years before had left him without other opportunity
+for affection in the home, since he had neither brother nor sister. He
+loved his father with a depth of feeling that made between the two a
+real camaraderie, despite great differences in temperament. In that
+simple and sincere regard which he bore for his father, the boy revealed
+a heart ready for love, willing to give of itself its best for the one
+beloved. Beyond that, as yet, there was little to be said of him with
+exactness. He was a spoiled child of fortune, if you wish to have it
+so. Certainly, he was only a drone in the world's hive. Thus far, he
+had enjoyed the good things of life, without ever doing aught to deserve
+them by contributing in return--save by his smiles and his genial air of
+happiness.
+
+In the twenty-three years of his life, every gift that money could
+lavish had been his. If the sum total of benefit was small, at least
+there remained the consoling fact that the harm was even less. Luxury
+had not sapped the strength of him. He had not grown vicious, as have so
+many of his fellows among the sons of the rich. Some instinct held him
+aloof from the grosser vices. His were the trifling faults that had
+their origin chiefly in the joy of life, which manifest occasionally in
+riotous extravagancies, of a sort actually to harm none, however absurd
+and 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, there
+showed a soul untainted, not yet developed, not yet debased. Through all
+his days, Dick Gilder had walked gladly, in the content that springs to
+the call of one possessed of a capacity for enjoyment; possessed, too,
+of every means for the gratification of desire. As yet, the man of him
+was unrevealed in its integrity. No test had been put upon him. The
+fires of suffering had not tried the dross of him. What real worth might
+lie under this sunny surface the future must determine. There showed now
+only this one significant fact: that, in the first moment of his return
+from journeyings abroad, he sought his father with all eagerness, and
+was sorely grieved because the meeting must still be delayed. It was a
+little thing, perhaps. Yet, it was capable of meaning much concerning
+the nature of the lad. It revealed surely a tender heart, one responsive
+to a pure love. And to one of his class, there are many forces ever
+present to atrophy such simple, wholesome power of loving. The ability
+to love cleanly and absolutely is the supreme virtue.
+
+Sarah explained that Mr. Gilder had been called to the Court of General
+Sessions 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 that
+fresh cop arrested him for speeding? Wasn't he wild? I thought he would
+have the whole police force discharged.” He smiled again. “The trouble
+is,” he declared sedately, “that sort of thing requires practice. Now,
+when I'm arrested for speeding, I'm not in the least flustered--oh, not
+a little bit! But poor Dad! That one experience of his almost soured his
+whole 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 been
+somewhat disturbed by the irruption of the young man. Her round face
+shone delightedly as she regarded him. There was a maternal note of
+rebuke 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 smile
+of response to the secretary's lips.
+
+“Sadie,” he explained confidentially, “don't you dare ever to let the
+old man know. He would be all swollen up. It's bad to let a parent swell
+up. But the truth is, Sadie, I got kind of homesick for Dad--yes, just
+that!” He spoke the words with a sort of shamefaced wonder. It is not
+easy for an Anglo-Saxon to confess the realities of affection in
+vital intimacies. He repeated the phrase in a curiously appreciative
+hesitation, as one astounded by his own emotion. “Yes, homesick for
+Dad!”
+
+Then, to cover an excess of sincere feeling, he continued, with a burst
+of 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 ample
+experience, knew that any demand for funds would have received answer
+from 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 like
+the old man!”
+
+Sarah, however, showed no hint of enthusiasm. Her mind was ever of the
+prosaic sort, little prone to flights. In that prosaic quality, was to
+be 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 to
+come 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's
+face. 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 convincing
+groan.
+
+“Oh, Lord!” he exclaimed, dismally. There was shame in his voice. “I
+forgot 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 seriousness
+of manner:
+
+“Sadie, have you any money? I'm broker My taxi' has been waiting outside
+all this time.”
+
+“Why, yes,” the secretary said, cheerfully. “If you will----”
+
+Dick was discreet enough to turn his attention to a picture on the
+wall opposite while Sarah went through those acrobatic performances
+obligatory on women who take no chances of losing money by carrying it
+in purses.
+
+“There!” she called after a few panting seconds, and exhibited a flushed
+face.
+
+Dick turned eagerly and seized the banknote offered him.
+
+“Mighty much obliged, Sadie,” he said, enthusiastically. “But I must
+run. 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 face
+showed extreme irritation. He did not vouchsafe any greeting to the
+secretary, who regarded him with an accurate perception of his mood.
+With a diplomacy born of long experience, in her first speech Sarah
+afforded an agreeable diversion to her employer's line of thought.
+
+“Mr. Hastings, of the Empire store, called you up, Mr. Gilder, and asked
+me 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 of
+a smile on his lips as he seated himself at the great mahogany desk.
+
+“Yes, yes!” he exclaimed, with evident enthusiasm. The smile grew in
+the short interval before the connection was made. When, finally,
+he addressed his friend over the telephone, his tones were of the
+cheerfulest.
+
+“Oh, good morning. Yes, certainly. Four will suit me admirably....
+Sunday? Yes, if you like. We can go out after church, and have luncheon
+at the country club.” After listening a moment, he laughed in a pleased
+fashion that had in it a suggestion of conscious superiority. “My dear
+fellow,” 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 laughed
+again at the answer over the wire, then hung up the receiver and pushed
+the telephone aside, as he turned his attention to the papers neatly
+arranged 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 elaborately
+casual manner.
+
+Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answered rather
+harshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding.
+
+“I don't know--I couldn't wait,” he said. He made a petulant gesture as
+he 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 work
+now.”
+
+For a few minutes he gave himself up to the routine of business,
+distributing the correspondence and other various papers for the action
+of subordinates, and speaking his orders occasionally to the attentive
+secretary with a quickness and precision that proclaimed the capable
+executive. The observer would have realized at once that here was a
+man obviously fitted to the control of large affairs. The ability that
+marches 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 prime
+requisite for achievement in the ordering of modern business concerns.
+Force was, indeed, the dominant quality of the man. His tall figure was
+proportionately broad, and he was heavily fleshed. In fact, the body was
+too ponderous. Perhaps, in that characteristic might be found a clue
+to the chief fault in his nature. For he was ponderous, spiritually and
+mentally, as well as materially. The fact was displayed suggestively in
+the face, which was too heavy with its prominent jowls and aggressive
+chin and rather bulbous nose. But there was nothing flabby anywhere.
+The ample features showed no trace of weakness, only a rude, abounding
+strength. There was no lighter touch anywhere. Evidently a just man
+according to his own ideas, yet never one to temper justice with mercy.
+He appeared, and was, a very practical and most prosaic business man. He
+was not given to a humorous outlook on life. He took it and himself with
+the 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 matters
+before him. Forthwith, he dictated the following letter, and now his
+voice took on a more unctuous note, as of one who is appreciative of his
+own excellent generosity.
+
+“THE EDITOR,
+
+“The New York Herald.
+
+“DEAR SIR: Inclosed please find my check for a thousand dollars for your
+free-ice fund. It is going to be a very hard summer for the poor, and
+I hope by thus starting the contributions for your fine charity at
+this early day that you will be able to accomplish even more good than
+usually.
+
+“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 every
+year for the last ten years.”
+
+The statement impressed Gilder pleasantly. His voice was more mellow as
+he 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 the
+secretary.
+
+But Sarah, though she could be tactful enough on occasion, did not
+choose to meet her employer's anticipations just now. For that matter,
+her intimate services permitted on her part some degree of familiarity
+with the august head of the establishment. Besides, she did not stand in
+awe of Gilder, as did the others in his service. No man is a hero to
+his valet, or to his secretary. Intimate association is hostile to
+hero-worship. So, now, Sarah spoke nonchalantly, to the indignation of
+the 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 his
+eyes opened slightly in sheer surprise over the secretary's unexpected
+remark. He hesitated for only an instant before replying with an air
+of great dignity, in which was a distinct note of rebuke for the girl's
+presumption.
+
+“The profits from my store are large, I admit, Sarah. But I neither
+smuggle my goods, take rebates from railroads, conspire against small
+competitors, nor do any of the dishonest acts that disgrace other
+lines of business. So long as I make my profits honestly, I am honestly
+entitled to them, no matter how big they are.”
+
+The secretary, being quite content with the havoc she had wrought in her
+employer's complacency over his charitableness, nodded, and contented
+herself 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 his
+generosity.
+
+“Have the cashier send my usual five hundred to the Charities
+Organization Society,” he ordered. With this new evidence of his
+generous virtue, the frown passed from his brows. If, for a fleeting
+moment, doubt had assailed him under the spur of the secretary's words,
+that doubt had now vanished under his habitual conviction as to his
+sterling worth to the world at large.
+
+It was, therefore, with his accustomed blandness of manner that he
+presently acknowledged the greeting of George Demarest, the chief of the
+legal staff that looked after the firm's affairs. He was aware without
+being told that the lawyer had called to acquaint him with the issue in
+the trial of Mary Turner.
+
+“Well, Demarest?” he inquired, as the dapper attorney advanced into the
+room at a rapid pace, and came to a halt facing the desk, after a lively
+nod in the direction of the secretary.
+
+The lawyer's face sobered, and his tone as he answered was tinged with
+constraint.
+
+“Judge Lawlor gave her three years,” he replied, gravely. It was plain
+from his manner that he did not altogether approve.
+
+But Gilder was unaffected by the attorney's lack of satisfaction over
+the result. On the contrary, he smiled exultantly. His oritund voice
+took on a deeper note, as he turned toward the secretary.
+
+“Good!” he exclaimed. “Take this, Sarah.” And he continued, as the girl
+opened her notebook and poised the pencil: “Be sure to have Smithson
+post a copy of it conspicuously in all the girls' dressing-rooms, and in
+the reading-room, and in the lunch-rooms, and in the assembly-room.” He
+cleared his throat ostentatiously and proceeded to the dictation of the
+notice:
+
+“Mary Turner, formerly employed in this store, was to-day sentenced to
+prison for three years, having been convicted for the theft of goods
+valued at over four hundred dollars. The management wishes again to
+draw attention on the part of its employees to the fact that honesty is
+always the best policy.... Got that?”
+
+“Yes, sir.” The secretary's voice was mechanical, without any trace of
+feeling. She was not minded to disturb her employer a second time this
+morning by injudicious comment.
+
+“Take it to Smithson,” Gilder continued, “and tell him that I wish him
+to attend to its being posted according to my directions at once.”
+
+Again, the girl made her formal response in the affirmative, then left
+the room.
+
+Gilder brought forth a box of cigars from a drawer of the desk, opened
+it and thrust it toward the waiting lawyer, who, however, shook his
+head in refusal, and continued to move about the room rather restlessly.
+Demarest paid no attention to the other's invitation to a seat, but the
+courtesy was perfunctory on Gilder's part, and he hardly perceived
+the perturbation of his caller, for he was occupied in selecting and
+lighting a cigar with the care of a connoisseur. Finally, he spoke
+again, 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 the
+girls.” 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 the
+most unusual I have seen since I have been practicing law.”
+
+The smug contentment abode still on Gilder's face as he puffed in
+leisurely ease on his cigar and uttered a trite condolence.
+
+“Very sad!--quite so! Very sad case, I call it.” Demarest went on
+speaking, with a show of feeling: “Most unusual case, in my estimation.
+You see, the girl keeps on declaring her innocence. That, of course, is
+common enough in a way. But here, it's different. The point is, somehow,
+she makes her protestations more convincing than they usually do. They
+ring 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 deemed
+it his duty to give her three years.”
+
+“Some persons are not very sensitive to impressions in such cases, I
+admit,” Demarest returned, coolly. If he meant any subtlety of allusion
+to his hearer, it failed wholly to pierce the armor of complacency.
+
+“The stolen goods were found in her locker,” Gilder declared in a
+tone of finality. “Some of them, I have been given to understand, were
+actually in the pocket of her coat.”
+
+“Well,” the attorney said with a smile, “that sort of thing makes
+good-enough circumstantial evidence, and without circumstantial evidence
+there would be few convictions for crime. Yet, as a lawyer, I'm free to
+admit that circumstantial evidence alone is never quite safe as proof of
+guilt. Naturally, she says some one else must have put the stolen goods
+there. As a matter of exact reasoning, that is quite within the measure
+of 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 the
+thefts have thus sought to throw suspicion on the innocent in order
+to avoid it on themselves when the pursuit got too hot on their trail.
+Sometimes, too, such evidence has been manufactured merely to satisfy a
+spite against the one unjustly accused.”
+
+“It's too absurd to think about,” Gilder repeated, impatiently. “The
+judge and the jury found no fault with the evidence.”
+
+Demarest realized that this advocacy in behalf of the girl was hardly
+fitting on the part of the legal representative of the store she was
+supposed to have robbed, so he abruptly changed his line of argument.
+
+“She says that her record of five years in your employ ought to count
+something in her favor.”
+
+Gilder, however, was not disposed to be sympathetic as to a matter so
+flagrantly 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 affair
+ended.
+
+Demarest smiled cynically as he strode to and fro.
+
+“Nowadays,” he shot out, “we don't call them courts of justice: we call
+them courts of law.”
+
+Gilder yielded only a rather dubious smile over the quip. This much he
+felt that he could afford, since those same courts served his personal
+purposes 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 am
+not so sure. You see, the fact of the matter is that, though I helped to
+prosecute the case, I am not a little bit proud of the verdict.”
+
+Gilder raised his eyebrows in unfeigned astonishment. Even yet, he was
+quite without appreciation of the attorney's feeling in reference to the
+conduct of the case.
+
+“Why?” he questioned, sharply.
+
+“Because,” the lawyer said, again halting directly before the desk, “in
+spite of all the evidence against her, I am not sure that Mary Turner is
+guilty--far from it, in fact!”
+
+Gilder uttered an ejaculation of contempt, but Demarest went on
+resolutely.
+
+“Anyhow,” he explained, “the girl wants to see you, and I wish to urge
+you 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 rapid
+pacing of the room.
+
+“What's the use?” Gilder stormed. A latent hardness revealed itself at
+the prospect of such a visitation. And along with this hardness came
+another singular revelation of the nature of the man. For there was
+consternation in his voice, as he continued in vehement expostulation
+against the idea. If there was harshness in his attitude there was,
+too, a fugitive suggestion of tenderness alarmed over the prospect of
+undergoing such an interview with a woman.
+
+“I can't have her crying all over the office and begging for mercy,” he
+protested, 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 as
+that may seem, in a court of law!--and nothing else. The truth is, she's
+a very unusual girl, a long way beyond the ordinary sales-girl, both in
+brains and in education.”
+
+“The less reason, then, for her being a thief,” Gilder grumbled in his
+heaviest voice.
+
+“And perhaps the less reason for believing her to be a thief,” the
+lawyer retorted, suavely. He paused for a moment, then went on. There
+was a tone of sincere determination in his voice. “Just before the judge
+imposed 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 by
+answering at once that she had. It's really a pity, Gilder, that you
+didn't wait. Why, that poor girl made a--damn--fine speech!”
+
+The lawyer's forensic aspirations showed in his honest appreciation of
+the effectiveness of such oratory from the heart as he had heard in the
+courtroom that day.
+
+“Pooh! pooh!” came the querulous objection. “She seems to have
+hypnotized you.” Then, as a new thought came to the magnate, he spoke
+with a trace of anxiety. There were always the reporters, looking for
+space 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 was
+discreetly secret. “She merely told us how her father died when she was
+sixteen 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, that
+she had never seen the things found in her locker. And she said more
+than that! She asked the judge if he himself understood what it means
+for 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 the
+courtroom. I know! It's my business to understand things like that. And
+what 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 a
+suspicion that she might be speaking the truth. You see, Gilder, it all
+rang true! And it's my business to know how things ring in that
+way.” There was a little pause, while the lawyer moved back and forth
+nervously. Then, he added: “I believe Lawlor would have suspended
+sentence if it hadn't been for your talk with him.”
+
+There were not wanting signs that Gilder was impressed. But the gentler
+fibers of the man were atrophied by the habits of a lifetime. What heart
+he had once possessed had been buried in the grave of his young wife, to
+be resurrected only for his son. In most things, he was consistently a
+hard 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 his
+mouth. When he spoke, his voice was deeply resonant.
+
+“I simply did my duty,” he said. “You are aware that I did not seek
+any consultation with Judge Lawlor. He sent for me, and asked me what I
+thought about the case--whether I thought it would be right to let the
+girl go on a suspended sentence. I told him frankly that I believed that
+an example should be made of her, for the sake of others who might be
+tempted to steal. Property has some rights, Demarest, although it seems
+to be getting nowadays so that anybody is likely to deny it.” Then the
+fretful, 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 ten
+minutes, she would tell you how to stop the thefts in this store.”
+
+Gilder displayed signs of triumph. He brought his chair to a level and
+pounded the desk with a weighty fist.
+
+“There!” he cried. “I knew it. The girl wants to confess. Well, it's
+the first sign of decent feeling she's shown. I suppose it ought to be
+encouraged. 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 you
+see her. I thought you would be willing, so I spoke to the District
+Attorney, and he has given orders to bring her here for a few minutes on
+the 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 harm
+in 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 going
+over some of the papers on his desk. He was experiencing a vague feeling
+of injury on account of the lawyer's ill-veiled efforts to arouse his
+sympathy in behalf of the accused girl. In the instinct of strengthening
+himself 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 which
+righteousness thrives in the world. And it was then that an interruption
+came in the utterance of two words, words of affection, of love, cried
+out in the one voice he most longed to hear--for the voice was that of
+his son. Yet, he did not look up. The thing was altogether impossible!
+The boy was philandering, junketing, somewhere on the Riviera. His
+first intimation as to the exact place would come in the form of a cable
+asking for money. Somehow, his feelings had been unduly stirred that
+morning; he had grown sentimental, dreaming of pleasant things.... All
+this in a second. Then, he looked up. Why, it was true! It was Dick's
+face there, smiling in the doorway. Yes, it was Dick, it was Dick
+himself! 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 next
+moment the hands of father and son clasped firmly. They were silent in
+the first emotion of their greeting. Presently, Gilder spoke, with an
+effort 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 the
+usual things. He was forced to clear his throat before he answered
+with that assumption of nonchalance which he regarded as befitting the
+occasion.
+
+“Why, I just wanted to come back home,” he said; lightly. A sudden
+recollection came to give him poise in this time of emotional
+disturbance, and he added hastily: “And, for the love of heaven, give
+Sadie 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. He
+was still chuckling when he spoke, sage from much experience of ocean
+travel. “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 it
+was the ship that finished me, at that. You see, Dad, they hired Captain
+Kidd and a bunch of pirates as stewards, and what they did to little
+Richard 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 do
+on the other side.”
+
+“Nor on this,” the father interjected, dryly.
+
+“Anyhow, it doesn't matter much,” Dick replied, quite unabashed. “Tell
+me, Dad, how goes it?”
+
+Gilder settled himself again in his chair, and gazed benignantly on his
+son.
+
+“Pretty well,” he said contentedly; “pretty well, son. I'm glad to see
+you home again, my boy.” There was a great tenderness in the usually
+rather 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 of
+the throat, but he finished bravely--“with you.”
+
+The father avoided a threatening display of emotion by an abrupt change
+of subject to the trite.
+
+“Have a good time?” he inquired casually, while fumbling with the papers
+on the desk.
+
+Dick's face broke in a smile of reminiscent happiness.
+
+“The time of my young life!” He paused, and the smile broadened. There
+was 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 have
+done it sure, if only my money had held out.”
+
+“It seems to me that I've heard something of the sort before,” was
+Gilder's caustic comment. But his smile was still wholly sympathetic. He
+took a curious vicarious delight in the escapades of his son, probably
+because he himself had committed no follies in his callow days. “Why
+didn't you cable me?” he asked, puzzled at such restraint on the part of
+his 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 was
+yet a child, had bought him candy, had felt toward him a maternal liking
+that increased rather than diminished as he grew to manhood. Now, her
+face 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 are
+looking finer than ever. And how thin you have grown!”
+
+The girl, eager with fond fancies toward the slender ideal, accepted the
+compliment literally.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Dick!” she exclaimed, rapturously. “How much do you think I
+have lost?”
+
+The whimsical heir of the house of Gilder surveyed his victim
+critically, 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 her
+plumpness. Instantly, he was all contrition over his unwitting offense
+inflicted on her womanly vanity.
+
+“Oh, I'm sorry, Sadie,” he exclaimed penitently. “Please don't be really
+angry 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 sensitive
+about it. Why, you're just right.” There was something very boyish about
+his manner, as he caught at the girl's arm. A memory of the days when
+she had cuddled him caused him to speak warmly, forgetting the presence
+of 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 hers
+in a hearty caress. “There!” he cried. “Just to show there's no ill
+feeling.”
+
+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 interposed
+to end it.
+
+“Stop, Dick!” he commanded, crisply. “You are actually making Sarah
+blush. I think that's about enough, son.”
+
+But a sudden unaccustomed gust of affection swirled in the breast of
+the lad. Plain Anglo-Saxon as he was, with all that implies as to the
+avoidance of displays of emotion, nevertheless he had been for a
+long time in lands far from home, where the habits of impulsive and
+affectionate peoples were radically unlike our own austerer forms. So
+now, under the spur of an impulse suggested by the dalliance with the
+buxom secretary, he grinned widely and went to his father.
+
+“A little kiss never hurts any one,” he declared, blithely. Then he
+added 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 kissed
+soundly first the one cheek and then the other, each with a hearty,
+wholesome smack of filial piety. This done, he stood back, still beaming
+happily, while the astounded Sarah tittered bewilderedly. For his own
+part, Dick was quite unashamed. He loved his father. For once, he had
+expressed that fondness in a primitive fashion, and he was glad.
+
+The older man withdrew a step, and there rested motionless, under the
+sway of an emotion akin to dismay. He stood staring intently at his son
+with a perplexity in his expression that was almost ludicrous. When, at
+last, he spoke, his voice was a rumble of strangely shy pleasure.
+
+“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed, violently. Then he raised a hand, and
+rubbed first one cheek, and after it its fellow, with a gentleness that
+was significant. The feeling provoked by the embrace showed plainly in
+his 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 now
+there was a note of jubilation.
+
+The son, somewhat disturbed by this emotion he had aroused, nevertheless
+answered frankly with the expression of his own feeling, as he advanced
+and 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 manner
+changed, for he felt himself perilously close to the maudlin in this new
+yielding to sentimentality. Such kisses of tenderness, however agreeable
+in themselves, were hardly fitting to one of his dignity. “You clear out
+of 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 of
+banknotes, which he held out. “There's carfare for you,” he said with a
+chuckle. “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. And
+then the young man gave evidence that he, too, had some of his father's
+ability in things financial. For, in the doorway he turned with a final
+speech, which was uttered in splendid disregard for the packet of money
+he 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 from
+her 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 the
+meeting with his son had put him in high spirits. Perhaps it might have
+been better for Mary Turner had she come to him just then, while he
+was yet in this softened mood. But fate had ordained that other events
+should restore him to his usual harder self before their interview. The
+effect was, indeed, presently accomplished by the advent of Smithson
+into the office. He entered with an expression of discomfiture on his
+rather vacuous countenance. He walked almost nimbly to the desk and
+spoke with evident distress, as his employer looked up interrogatively.
+
+“McCracken has detained--er--a--lady, sir,” he said, feebly. “She has
+been searched, and we have found about a hundred dollars worth of laces
+on her.”
+
+“Well?” Gilder demanded, impatiently. Such affairs were too common in
+the store to make necessary this intrusion of the matter on him. “Why
+did you come to me about it?” His staff knew just what to do with
+shoplifters.
+
+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 know
+my views on the subject of property. Tell McCracken to have the thief
+arrested.”
+
+Smithson cleared his throat doubtfully, and in his stress of feeling
+he even relaxed a trifle that majestical erectness of carriage that had
+made 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 high
+exasperation. “Not a thief! And you caught her with a hundred dollars
+worth of laces that she hadn't bought. Not a thief! What in heaven's
+name do you call her, then?”
+
+“A kleptomaniac,” Smithson explained, retaining his manner of mild
+insistence. “You see, sir, it's this way. The lady happens to be the
+wife of J. W. Gaskell, the banker, you know.”
+
+Yes, Gilder did know. The mention of the name was like a spell in the
+effect it wrought on the attitude of the irritated owner of the store.
+Instantly, his expression changed. While before his features had been
+set grimly, while his eyes had flashed wrathfully, there was now only
+annoyance over an event markedly unfortunate.
+
+“How extremely awkward!” he cried; and there was a very real concern
+in his voice. He regarded Smithson kindly, whereat that rather puling
+gentleman once again assumed his martial bearing. “You were quite
+right in coming to me.” For a moment he was silent, plunged in thought.
+Finally he spoke with the decisiveness characteristic of him. “Of
+course, there's nothing we can do. Just put the stuff back on the
+counter, and let her go.”
+
+But Smithson had not yet wholly unburdened himself. Instead of
+immediately leaving the room in pursuance of the succinct instructions
+given him, he again cleared his throat nervously, and made known a
+further aggravating factor in the situation.
+
+“She's very angry, Mr. Gilder,” he announced, timidly. “She--er--she
+demands an--er--an apology.”
+
+The owner of the store half-rose from his chair, then threw himself back
+with an exclamation of disgust. He again ejaculated the words with which
+he had greeted his son's unexpected kisses, but now there was a vast
+difference in the intonation.
+
+“God bless my soul!” he cried. From his expression, it was clear that a
+pious 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 enough
+under the circumstances. At last, however, he mastered his irritation to
+some degree, and spoke his command briefly. “Well, Smithson, apologize
+to her. It can't be helped.” Then his face lighted with a sardonic
+amusement. “And, Smithson,” he went on with a sort of elephantine
+playfulness, “I shall take it as a personal favor if you will tactfully
+advise the lady that the goods at Altman and Stern's are really even
+finer than ours.”
+
+When Smithson had left the office, Gilder turned to his secretary.
+
+“Take this,” he directed, and he forthwith dictated the following letter
+to the husband of the lady who was not a thief, as Smithson had so
+painstakingly 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 as
+a man if I did not let you know at once that Mrs. Gaskell is in urgent
+need 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 nervous
+condition. In her excitement, she carried away about one hundred
+dollars' worth of rare laces. Not recognizing her, our store detective
+detained her for a short time. Fortunately for us all, Mrs. Gaskell was
+able to explain who she was, and she has just gone to her home. Hoping
+for 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 up
+another detail of his business. Instead, he remained plunged in thought,
+and now his frown was one of simple bewilderment. A number of minutes
+passed before he spoke, and then his words revealed distinctly what had
+been his train of meditation.
+
+“Sadie,” he said in a voice of entire sincerity, “I can't understand
+theft. 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. “She
+wants you personally, Mr. Gilder, to apologize to her. She says that the
+action taken against her is an outrage, and she is not satisfied with
+the apologies of all the rest of us. She says you must make one,
+too, and that the store detective must be discharged for intolerable
+insolence.”
+
+Gilder bounced up from his chair angrily.
+
+“I'll be damned if I'll discharge McCracken,” he vociferated, glaring on
+Smithson, 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 of
+his own, which could be ended only by his employer's placating of the
+offended kleptomaniac.
+
+“But about the apology, Mr. Gilder,” he reminded, speaking very
+deferentially, yet with insistence.
+
+Business instinct triumphed over the magnate's irritation, and his face
+cleared.
+
+“Oh, I'll apologize,” he said with a wry smile of discomfiture. “I'll
+make things even up a bit when I get an apology from Gaskell. I shrewdly
+suspect that that estimable gentleman is going to eat humble pie, of my
+baking, from his wife's recipe. And his will be an honest apology--which
+mine won't, not by a damned sight!” With the words, he left the room, in
+his wake a hugely relieved Smithson.
+
+Alone in the office, Sarah neglected her work for a few minutes to brood
+over the startling contrast of events that had just forced itself on her
+attention. She was not a girl given to the analysis of either persons or
+things, but in this instance the movement of affairs had come close to
+her, and she was compelled to some depth of feeling by the two aspects
+of life on which to-day she looked. In the one case, as she knew it, a
+girl under the urge of poverty had stolen. That thief had been promptly
+arrested, finally she had been tried, had been convicted, had been
+sentenced to three years in prison. In the other case, a woman of wealth
+had stolen. There had been no punishment. A euphemism of kleptomania had
+been offered and accepted as sufficient excuse for her crime. A polite
+lie had been written to her husband, a banker of power in the city. To
+her, the proprietor of the store was even now apologizing in courteous
+phrases of regret.... And Mary Turner had been sentenced to three years
+in prison. Sadie shook her head in dolorous doubt, as she again bent
+over the keys of her typewriter. Certainly, some happenings in this
+world 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 through
+the 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 of
+the crowd, so that for the moment the two were practically alone.
+The salesgirl showed signs of embarrassment as she ventured to lay a
+detaining hand on Sarah's arm, but she maintained her position, despite
+the 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 over
+the delay, for she was very busy, as always. “You will all know soon
+enough.”
+
+“Tell me now.” The voice of the girl was singularly compelling; there
+was something vividly impressive about her just now, though her pallid,
+prematurely mature face and the thin figure in the regulation black
+dress and white apron showed ordinarily only insignificant. “Tell me
+now,” she repeated, with a monotonous emphasis that somehow moved Sarah
+to 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 was
+indefinable, yet a tone vehement in its incredulous questioning. “Three
+years?” 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 from
+the girl's lips. Instead, only a tense horror that touched to the roots
+of emotion.
+
+Sarah regarded this display of feeling on the part of the young woman
+before her with an increasing astonishment. It was not in her own nature
+to be demonstrative, and such strong expression of emotion as this she
+deemed rather suspicious. She recalled, in addition, the fact that his
+was not the first time that Helen Morris had shown a particular interest
+in the fate of Mary Turner. Sarah wondered why.
+
+“Say,” she demanded, with the directness habitual to her, “why are you
+so anxious about it? This is the third time you have asked me about Mary
+Turner. What's it to you, I'd like to know?”
+
+The salesgirl started violently, and a deep flush drove the accustomed
+pallor from her cheeks. She was obviously much disturbed by the
+question.
+
+“What is it to me?” she repeated in an effort to gain time. “Why,
+nothing--nothing at all!” Her expression of distress lightened a little
+as 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 once
+again the terrible reality hammered on her consciousness, and an
+overwhelming dejection showed in the dull eyes and in the drooping
+curves of the white lips. There was a monotone of desolation as she
+went on speaking in a whisper meant for the ears of no other. “It's
+awful--three years! Oh, I didn't understand! It's awful!--awful!” With
+the final word, she hurried off, her head bowed. She was still murmuring
+brokenly, incoherently. Her whole attitude was of wondering grief.
+
+Sarah stared after the girl in complete mystification. She could not at
+first guess any possible cause for an emotion so poignant. Presently,
+however, her shrewd, though very prosaic, commonsense suggested a simple
+explanation of the girl's extraordinary distress.
+
+“I'll bet that girl has been tempted to steal. But she didn't, because
+she was afraid.” With this satisfactory conclusion of her wonderment,
+the secretary hurried on her way, quite content. It never occurred to
+her that the girl might have been tempted to steal--and had not resisted
+the temptation.
+
+It was on account of this brief conversation with the salesgirl that
+Sarah was thinking intently of Mary Turner, after her return to the
+office, 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 at
+first recognize the figure outlined there. She remembered Mary Turner
+as a tall, slender girl, who showed an underlying vitality in every
+movement, a girl with a face of regular features, in which was a
+complexion of blended milk and roses, with a radiant joy of life shining
+through all her arduous and vulgar conditions. Instead of this, now, she
+saw a frail form that stood swaying in the opening of the doorway, that
+bent in a sinister fashion which told of bodily impotence, while the
+face was quite bloodless. And, too, there was over all else a pall of
+helplessness--helplessness that had endured much, and must still endure
+infinitely more.
+
+As a reinforcement of the dread import of that figure of wo, a man stood
+beside it, and one of his hands was clasped around the girl's wrist, a
+man who wore his derby hat somewhat far back on his bullet-shaped head,
+whose feet were conspicuous in shoes with very heavy soles and very
+square toes.
+
+It was the man who now took charge of the situation. Cassidy, from
+Headquarters, spoke in a rough, indifferent voice, well suited to his
+appearance of stolid strength.
+
+“The District Attorney told me to bring this girl here on my way to the
+Grand Central Station with her.”
+
+Sarah got to her feet mechanically. Somehow, from the raucous notes of
+the policeman's voice, she understood in a flash of illumination that
+the pitiful figure there in the doorway was that of Mary Turner, whom
+she had remembered so different, so frightfully different. She spoke
+with a miserable effort toward her usual liveliness.
+
+“Mr. Gilder will be right back. Come in and wait.” She wished to say
+something more, something of welcome or of mourning, to the girl there,
+but she found herself incapable of a single word for the moment, and
+could only stand dumb while the man stepped forward, with his charge
+following helplessly in his clutch.
+
+The two went forward very slowly, the officer, carelessly conscious of
+his duty, walking with awkward steps to suit the feeble movements of the
+girl, the girl letting herself be dragged onward, aware of the futility
+of any resistance to the inexorable power that now had her in its
+grip, of which the man was the present agent. As the pair came thus
+falteringly into the center of the room, Sarah at last found her voice
+for an expression of sympathy.
+
+“I'm sorry, Mary,” she said, hesitatingly. “I'm terribly sorry, terribly
+sorry!”
+
+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 whole
+time I have been in the Tombs.” There was infinite pathos in the tones
+as she repeated the words so fraught with dreadfulness. “Nobody has been
+near me!”
+
+The secretary felt a sudden glow of shame. She realized the justice of
+that unconscious accusation, for, till to-day, she had had no thought of
+the suffering girl there in the prison. To assuage remorse, she sought
+to give evidence as to a prevalent sympathy.
+
+“Why,” she exclaimed, “there was Helen Morris to-day! She has been
+asking about you again and again. She's all broken up over your
+trouble.”
+
+But the effort on the secretary's part was wholly without success.
+
+“Who is Helen Morris?” the lifeless voice demanded. There was no
+interest in the question.
+
+Sarah experienced a momentary astonishment, for she was still
+remembering the feverish excitement displayed by the salesgirl, who had
+declared herself to be a most intimate friend of the convict. But the
+mystery was to remain unsolved, since Gilder now entered the office. He
+walked with the quick, bustling activity that was ordinarily expressed
+in his every movement. He paused for an instant, as he beheld the
+two visitors in the center of the room, then he spoke curtly to the
+secretary, 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 leaving
+the 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 of
+the store expressed himself in a voice of genuine sympathy, for the
+spectacle of wo presented there before his very eyes moved him to a real
+distress, since it was indeed actual, something that did not depend on
+an appreciation to be developed out of imagination.
+
+“My girl,” Gilder said gently--his hard voice was softened by an honest
+regret--“my girl, I am sorry about this.”
+
+“You should be!” came the instant answer. Yet, the words were uttered
+with a total lack of emotion. It seemed from their intonation that
+the speaker voiced merely a statement concerning a recondite matter of
+truth, with which sentiment had nothing whatever to do. But the effect
+on the employer was unfortunate. It aroused at once his antagonism
+against the girl. His instinct of sympathy with which he had greeted
+her at the outset was repelled, and made of no avail. Worse, it was
+transformed into an emotion hostile to the one who thus offended him by
+rejection 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 in
+the listless voice. Yet, now, in the dullness ran a faint suggestion of
+something sinister.
+
+“I expected a decent amount of humility from one in your position,” was
+the tart rejoinder of the magnate.
+
+Life quickened swiftly in the drooping form of the girl. Her muscles
+tensed. She stood suddenly erect, in the vigor of her youth again. Her
+face lost in the same second its bleakness of pallor. The eyes opened
+widely, with startling abruptness, and looked straight into those of the
+man who had employed her.
+
+“Would you be humble,” she demanded, and now her voice was become softly
+musical, yet forbidding, too, with a note of passion, “would you be
+humble if you were going to prison for three years--for something you
+didn't do?”
+
+There was anguish in the cry torn from the girl's throat in the sudden
+access of despair. The words thrilled Gilder beyond anything that he
+had supposed possible in such case. He found himself in this emergency
+totally at a loss, and moved in his chair doubtfully, wishing to say
+something, and quite unable. He was still seeking some question, some
+criticism, some rebuke, when he was unfeignedly relieved to hear the
+policeman's harsh voice.
+
+“Don't mind her, sir,” Cassidy said. He meant to make his manner very
+reassuring. “They all say that. They are innocent, of course! Yep--they
+all say it. It don't do 'em any good, but just the same they all swear
+they're innocent. They keep it up to the very last, no matter how right
+they've been got.”
+
+The voice of the girl rang clear. There was a note of insistence
+that carried a curious dignity of its own. The very simplicity of her
+statement might have had a power to convince one who listened without
+prejudice, although the words themselves were of the trite sort that any
+protesting criminal might utter.
+
+“I tell you, I didn't do it!”
+
+Gilder himself felt the surge of emotion that swung through these
+moments, 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 unfortunate
+affair with a scrupulous attention to detail, in the fashion that had
+always been characteristic of him during the years in which he had
+steadily mounted from the bottom to the top.
+
+“What's the use of all this pretense?” he demanded, sharply. “You were
+given a fair trial, and there's an end of it.”
+
+The girl, standing there so feebly, seeming indeed to cling for support
+to the man who always held her thus closely by the wrist, spoke again
+with an astonishing clearness, even with a sort of vivacity, as if she
+explained easily something otherwise in doubt.
+
+“Oh, no, I wasn't!” she contradicted bluntly, with a singular confidence
+of 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 girl
+with a professional sneer.
+
+“That's another thing they all say.”
+
+But the girl went on speaking fiercely, impervious to the man's coarse
+sarcasm, her eyes, which had deepened almost to purple, still fixed
+piercingly 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 the
+court told me to take, a boy trying his first case--my case, that
+meant the ruin of my life? My lawyer! Why, he was just getting
+experience--getting it at my expense!” The girl paused as if exhausted
+by the vehemence of her emotion, and at last the sparkling eyes drooped
+and the heavy lids closed over them. She swayed a little, so that the
+officer tightened his clasp on her wrist.
+
+There followed a few seconds of silence. Then Gilder made an effort to
+shake off the feeling that had so possessed him, and to a certain degree
+he succeeded.
+
+“The jury found you guilty,” he asserted, with an attempt to make his
+voice 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 she
+went forward a step imperiously, dragging the officer in her wake.
+
+“Yes, the jury found me guilty,” she agreed, with fine scorn in the
+musical cadences of her voice. “Do you know why? I can tell you,
+Mr. Gilder. It was because they had been out for three hours without
+reaching a decision. The evidence didn't seem to be quite enough for
+some of them, after all. Well, the judge threatened to lock them up all
+night. The men wanted to get home. The easy thing to do was to find me
+guilty, and let it go at that. Was that fair, do you think? And that's
+not all, either. Was it fair of you, Mr. Gilder? Was it fair of you to
+come to the court this morning, and tell the judge that I should be sent
+to prison as a warning to others?”
+
+A quick flush burned on the massive face of the man whom she thus
+accused, and his eyes refused to meet her steady gaze of reproach.
+
+“You know!” he exclaimed, in momentary consternation. Again, her mood
+had affected his own, so that through a few hurrying seconds he felt
+himself somehow guilty of wrong against this girl, so frank and so
+rebuking.
+
+“I heard you in the courtroom,” she said. “The dock isn't very far from
+the 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 must
+be made a warning to others.”
+
+Again, silence fell for a tense interval. Then, finally, the girl spoke
+in a different tone. Where before her voice had been vibrant with the
+instinct of complaint against the mockery of justice under which she
+suffered, 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 prison
+for three years for something I didn't do.”
+
+But the sincerity of her broken cry fell on unheeding ears. The coarse
+nature of the officer had long ago lost whatever elements of softness
+there might have been to develop in a gentler occupation. As for the
+owner of the store, he was not sufficiently sensitive to feel the verity
+in the accents of the speaker. Moreover, he was a man who followed the
+conventional, with never a distraction due to imagination and sympathy.
+Just now, too, he was experiencing a keen irritation against himself
+because of the manner in which he had been sensible to the influence
+of her protestation, despite his will to the contrary. That irritation
+against himself only reacted against the girl, and caused him to
+steel his heart to resist any tendency toward commiseration. So, this
+declaration of innocence was made quite in vain--indeed, served rather
+to strengthen his disfavor toward the complainant, and to make his
+manner harsher when she voiced the pitiful question over which she had
+wondered 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 has
+got to stop,” Gilder answered emphatically, with all his usual energy
+of manner restored. As he spoke, he raised his eyes and met the girl's
+glance fairly. Thought of the robberies was quite enough to make him
+pitiless toward the offender.
+
+“Sending me to prison won't stop it,” Mary Turner said, drearily.
+
+“Perhaps not,” Gilder sternly retorted. “But the discovery and
+punishment of the other guilty ones will.” His manner changed to a
+business-like alertness. “You sent word to me that you could tell me how
+to stop the thefts in the store. Well, my girl, do this, and, while I
+can make no definite promise, I'll see what can be done about getting
+you out of your present difficulty.” He picked up a pencil, pulled a
+pad of blank paper convenient to his hand, and looked at the girl
+expectantly, with aggressive inquiry in his gaze. “Tell me now,” he
+concluded, “who were your pals?”
+
+The matter-of-fact manner of this man who had unwittingly wronged her so
+frightfully was the last straw on the girl's burden of suffering. Under
+it, her patient endurance broke, and she cried out in a voice of utter
+despair that caused Gilder to start nervously, and even impelled the
+stolid officer to a frown of remonstrance.
+
+“I have no pals!” she ejaculated, furiously. “I never stole anything in
+my life. Must I go on telling you over and over again?” Her voice rose
+in a wail of misery. “Oh, why won't any one believe me?”
+
+Gilder was much offended by this display of an hysterical grief, which
+seemed to his phlegmatic temperament altogether unwarranted by the
+circumstances. He spoke decisively.
+
+“Unless you can control yourself, you must go.” He pushed away the pad
+of paper, and tossed the pencil aside in physical expression of his
+displeasure. “Why did you send that message, if you have nothing to
+say?” he demanded, with increasing choler.
+
+But now the girl had regained her former poise. She stood a little
+drooping 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 certain
+grim appreciation.
+
+“Well?” Gilder insisted querulously, as the girl hesitated.
+
+At once, Mary went on speaking, and now a little increase of vigor
+trembled in her tones.
+
+“When you sit in a cell for three months waiting for your trial, as I
+did, you think a lot. And, so, I got the idea that if I could talk to
+you, I might be able to make you understand what's really wrong. And if
+I could do that, and so help out the other girls, what has happened to
+me would not, after all, be quite so awful--so useless, somehow.” Her
+voice lowered to a quick pleading, and she bent toward the man at the
+desk. “Mr. Gilder,” she questioned, “do you really want to stop the
+girls 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 futile
+suggestion for his guidance.
+
+“What do you mean?” he vociferated, with rising indignation. There was
+an added hostility in his demeanor, for it seemed to him that this thief
+of his goods whom he had brought to justice was daring to trifle with
+him. He grew wrathful over the suspicion, but a secret curiosity still
+held his temper within bounds “What do you mean?” he repeated; and now
+the full force of his strong voice set the room trembling.
+
+The tones of the girl came softly musical, made more delicately resonant
+to the ear by contrast with the man's roaring.
+
+“Why,” she said, very gently, “I mean just this: Give them a living
+chance to be honest.”
+
+“A living chance!” The two words were exploded with dynamic violence.
+The preposterousness of the advice fired Gilder with resentment so
+pervasive that through many seconds he found himself unable to express
+the 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 a
+living 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. Do
+you think that any girl wants to steal? Do you think that any girl wants
+to risk----?”
+
+By this time, however, Gilder had regained his powers of speech, and he
+interrupted stormily.
+
+“And is this what you have taken up my time for? You want to make a
+maudlin plea for guilty, dishonest girls, when I thought you really
+meant to bring me facts.”
+
+Nevertheless, Mary went on with her arraignment uncompromisingly. There
+was a strange, compelling energy in her inflections that penetrated even
+the pachydermatous officer, so that, though he thought her raving, he
+let her rave on, which was not at all his habit of conduct, and did
+indeed surprise him mightily. As for Gilder, he felt helpless in some
+puzzling fashion that was totally foreign to his ordinary self. He was
+still glowing with wrath over the method by which he had been victimized
+into giving the girl a hearing. Yet, despite his chagrin, he realized
+that he could not send her from him forthwith. By some inexplicable
+spell she bound him impotent.
+
+“We work nine hours a day,” the quiet voice went on, a curious pathos
+in 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 live
+on six dollars a week. She can't do it, and buy food and clothes, and
+pay room-rent and carfare. That's another fact, isn't it?”
+
+Mary regarded the owner of the store with grave questioning in her
+violet eyes. Under the urgency of emotion, color crept into the pallid
+cheeks, and now her face was very beautiful--so beautiful, indeed, that
+for a little the charm of its loveliness caught the man's gaze, and he
+watched her with a new respect, born of appreciation for her feminine
+delightfulness. The impression was far too brief. Gilder was not given
+to esthetic raptures over women. Always, the business instinct was the
+dominant. So, after the short period of amazed admiration over such
+unexpected winsomeness, his thoughts flew back angrily to the matters
+whereof she spoke so ridiculously.
+
+“I don't care to discuss these things,” he declared peremptorily, as the
+girl remained silent for a moment.
+
+“And I have no wish to discuss anything,” Mary returned evenly. “I
+only want to give you what you asked for--facts.” A faint smile of
+reminiscence curved the girl's lips. “When they first locked me up,” she
+explained, without any particular evidence of emotion, “I used to sit
+and hate you.”
+
+“Oh, of course!” came the caustic exclamation from Gilder.
+
+“And then, I thought that perhaps you did not understand,” Mary
+continued; “that, if I were to tell you how things really are, it might
+be you would change them somehow.”
+
+At this ingenuous statement, the owner of the store gave forth a gasp of
+sheer stupefaction.
+
+“I!” he cried, incredulously. “I change my business policy because you
+ask me to!”
+
+There was something imperturbable in the quality of the voice as the
+girl went resolutely forward with her explanation. It was as if she
+were discharging a duty not to be gainsaid, not to be thwarted by
+any difficulty, not even the realization that all the effort must be
+ultimately in vain.
+
+“Do you know how we girls live?--but, of course, you don't. Three of us
+in one room, doing our own cooking over the two-burner gas-stove, and
+our own washing and ironing evenings, after being on our feet for nine
+hours.”
+
+The enumeration of the sordid details left the employer absolutely
+unmoved, since he lacked the imagination necessary to sympathize
+actually 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's
+charges 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 his
+defense. It continued musically low, but there was in it the insistent
+note 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 a
+little pause during which the owner had remained silent. She shook
+her head in emphatic negation. “And do you understand why? It's simply
+because every girl knows that the manager of her department would think
+he could get along without her, if he were to see her sitting down
+----loafing, you know! So, she would be discharged. All it amounts to
+is that, after being on her feet for nine hours, the girl usually walks
+home, in order to save carfare. Yes, she walks, whether sick or well.
+Anyhow, you are generally so tired, it don't make much difference which
+you are.”
+
+Gilder was fuming under these strictures, which seemed to him altogether
+baseless attacks on himself. His exasperation steadily waxed against the
+girl, 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 you
+going to do then? Do you know, Mr. Gilder, that the first time a
+straight girl steals, it's often because she had to have a doctor--or
+some luxury like that? And some of them do worse than steal. Yes, they
+do--girls that started straight, and wanted to stay that way. But, of
+course, some of them get so tired of the whole grind that--that----”
+
+The man who was the employer of hundreds concerning whom these grim
+truths were uttered, stirred uneasily in his chair, and there came a
+touch of color into the healthy brown of his cheeks as he spoke his
+protest.
+
+“I'm not their guardian. I can't watch over them after they leave the
+store. They are paid the current rate of wages--as much as any other
+store pays.” As he spoke, the anger provoked by this unexpected
+assault on him out of the mouth of a convict flamed high in virtuous
+repudiation. “Why,” he went on vehemently, “no man living does more
+for his employees than I do. Who gave the girls their fine rest-rooms
+upstairs? 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 words
+were spoken without any trace of rancor merely made this statement of
+indisputable truth obnoxious to the man, who was stung to more savage
+resentment 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 answer
+informed with that repulsive insistence to the man who sought to resist
+her indictment of him.
+
+“But you won't pay them enough to live on.” The simple lucidity of the
+charge forbade direct reply.
+
+Gilder betook himself to evasion by harking back to the established
+ground of complaint.
+
+“And, so, you claim that you were forced to steal. That's the plea you
+make for yourself and your friends.”
+
+“I wasn't forced to steal,” came the answer, spoken in the monotone that
+had marked her utterance throughout most of the interview. “I wasn't
+forced 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 hundreds
+of them who steal because they don't get enough to eat. I said I would
+tell you how to stop the stealing. Well, I have done it. Give the girls
+a 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 whole
+business--and that name is Edward Gilder!... Now, won't you do something
+about it?”
+
+At that naked question, the owner of the store jumped up from his
+chair, and stood glowering at the girl who risked a request so full of
+vituperation against himself.
+
+“How dare you speak to me like this?” he thundered.
+
+There was no disconcertion exhibited by the one thus challenged. On the
+contrary, she repeated her question with a simple dignity that still
+further outraged the man.
+
+“Won't you, please, do something about it?”
+
+“How dare you?” he shouted again. Now, there was stark wonder in his
+eyes as he put the question.
+
+“Why, I dared,” Mary Turner explained, “because you have done all the
+harm you can to me. And, now, I'm trying to give you the chance to do
+better 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 warm
+clothes, and--a little happiness, all the time I have worked for you,
+and I have gone without those things, just to stay straight.... The end
+of 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 patiently
+beside her all this while, always holding her by the wrist. He had
+been mildly interested in the verbal duel between the big man of the
+department store and this convict in his own keeping. Vaguely, he had
+marveled at the success of the frail girl in declaiming of her injuries
+before the magnate. He had felt no particular interest beyond that,
+merely looking on as one might at any entertaining spectacle. The
+question at issue was no concern of his. His sole business was to take
+the girl away when the interview should be ended. It occurred to him now
+that this might, in fact, be the time to depart. It seemed, indeed, that
+the insistent reiteration of the girl had at last left he owner of the
+store quite powerless to answer. It was possible, then, that it were
+wiser the girl should be removed. With the idea in mind, he stared
+inquiringly at Gilder until he caught that flustered gentleman's eye.
+A nod from the magnate sufficed him. Gilder, in truth, could not trust
+himself just then to an audible command. He was seriously disturbed by
+the gently spoken truths that had issued from the girl's lips. He was
+not prepared with any answer, though he hotly resented every word of
+her accusation. So, when he caught the question in the glance of
+the officer, he felt a guilty sensation of relief as he signified an
+affirmative by his gesture.
+
+Cassidy faced about, and in his movement there was a tug at the wrist
+of the girl that set her moving toward the door. Her realization of what
+this meant was shown in her final speech.
+
+“Oh, he can take me now,” she said, bitterly. Then her voice rose above
+the monotone that had contented her hitherto. Into the music of her
+tones beat something sinister, evilly vindictive, as she faced about at
+the doorway to which Cassidy had led her. Her face, as she scrutinized
+once again the man at the desk, was coldly malignant.
+
+“Three years isn't forever,” she said, in a level voice. “When I come
+out, you are going to pay for every minute of them, Mr. Gilder. There
+won't be a day or an hour that I won't remember that at the last it was
+your word sent me to prison. And you are going to pay me for that. You
+are going to pay me for the five years I have starved making money for
+you--that, too! You are going to pay me for all the things I am losing
+today, and----”
+
+The girl thrust forth her left hand, on that side where stood the
+officer. So vigorous was her movement that Cassidy's clasp was thrown
+off the wrist. But the bond between the two was not broken, for from
+wrist to wrist showed taut the steel chain of the manacles. The girl
+shook the links of the handcuffs in a gesture stronger than words. In
+her final utterance to the agitated man at the desk, there was a cold
+threat, a prophecy of disaster. From the symbol of her degradation, she
+looked to the man whose action had placed it there. In the clashing of
+their glances, hers won the victory, so that his eyes fell before the
+menace in hers.
+
+“You are going to pay me for this!” she said. Her voice was little more
+than a whisper, but it was loud in the listener's heart. “Yes, you are
+going to pay--for this!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. INFERNO.
+
+They were grim years, those three during which Mary Turner served her
+sentence in Burnsing. There was no time off for good behavior. The girl
+learned soon that the favor of those set in authority over her could
+only be won at a cost against which her every maidenly instinct
+revolted. So, she went through the inferno of days and nights in a
+dreariness of suffering that was deadly. Naturally, the life there was
+altogether an evil thing. There was the material ill ever present in
+the round of wearisome physical toil, the coarse, distasteful food, the
+hard, 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 girl
+convict's life. That which bore upon her most weightily and incessantly
+was the degradation of this environment from which there was never any
+respite, the viciousness of this spot wherein she had been cast through
+no fault of her own. Vileness was everywhere, visibly in the faces of
+many, and it was brimming from the souls of more, subtly hideous. The
+girl held herself rigidly from any personal intimacy with her fellows.
+To some extent, at least, she could separate herself from their
+corruption in the matter of personal association. But, ever present,
+there was a secret energy of vice that could not be escaped so
+simply--nor, indeed, by any device; that breathed in the spiritual
+atmosphere itself of the place. Always, this mysterious, invisible, yet
+horribly 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. She
+fought the insidious, fetid force as best she might. She was not evil
+by 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's
+original sensibility a shell of hardness, which in time would surely
+come to make her less scrupulous in her reckoning of right and wrong.
+
+Yet, as a rule, character remains the same throughout life as to its
+prime essentials, and, in this case, Mary Turner at the end of her term
+was vitally almost as wholesome as on the day when she began the serving
+of the sentence. The change wrought in her was chiefly of an external
+sort. The kindliness of her heart and her desire for the seemly joys of
+life were unweakened. But over the better qualities of her nature
+was now spread a crust of worldly hardness, a denial of appeal to her
+sensibilities. It was this that would eventually bring her perilously
+close to contented companioning with crime.
+
+The best evidence of the fact that Mary Turner's soul was not fatally
+soiled must be found in the fact that still, at the expiration of her
+sentence, she was fully resolved to live straight, as the saying is
+which she had quoted to Gilder. This, too, in the face of sure knowledge
+as to the difficulties that would beset the effort, and in the face of
+the temptations offered to follow an easier path.
+
+There was, for example, Aggie Lynch, a fellow convict, with whom she
+had a slight degree of acquaintance, nothing more. This young woman, a
+criminal by training, offered allurements of illegitimate employment in
+the outer world when they should be free. Mary endured the companionship
+with this prisoner because a sixth sense proclaimed the fact that here
+was one unmoral, rather than immoral--and the difference is mighty. For
+that reason, Aggie Lynch was not actively offensive, as were most of the
+others. She was a dainty little blonde, with a baby face, in which were
+set two light-blue eyes, of a sort to widen often in demure wonder over
+most things in a surprising and naughty world. She had been convicted of
+blackmail, and she made no pretense even of innocence. Instead, she was
+inclined to boast over her ability to bamboozle men at her will. She
+was a natural actress of the ingenue role, and in that pose she could
+unfailingly beguile the heart of the wisest of worldly men.
+
+Perhaps, the very keen student of physiognomy might have discovered
+grounds for suspecting her demureness by reason of the thick, level
+brows that cast a shadow on the bland innocence of her face. For the
+rest, she possessed a knack of rather harmless perversity, a fair
+smattering of grammar and spelling, and a lively sense of humor within
+her own limitations, with a particularly small intelligence in other
+directions. Her one art was histrionics of the kind that made an
+individual appeal. In such, she was inimitable. She had been reared in a
+criminal family, which must excuse much. Long ago, she had lost track
+of her father; her mother she had never known. Her one relation was a
+brother of high standing as a pickpocket. One principal reason of her
+success in leading on men to make fools of themselves over her, to their
+everlasting regret afterward, lay in the fact that, in spite of all the
+gross irregularities of her life, she remained chaste. She deserved no
+credit 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 personality
+that might mean much financial profit in the devious ways of which she
+was a mistress. With the frankness characteristic of her, she proceeded
+to paint glowing pictures of a future shared to the undoing of ardent
+and fatuous swains. Mary Turner listened with curiosity, but she was in
+no wise moved to follow such a life, even though it did not necessitate
+anything worse than a fraudulent playing at love, without physical
+degradation. So, she steadfastly continued her refusals, to the great
+astonishment of Aggie, who actually could not understand in the least,
+even while she believed the other's declaration of innocence of the
+crime for which she was serving a sentence. But, for her own part, such
+innocence had nothing to do with the matter. Where, indeed, could be
+the harm in making some old sinner pay a round price for his folly? And
+always, 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 baby
+face would harden.
+
+“You will find that you are up against a hell of a frost,” she would
+declare, brutally.
+
+Mary found the profane prophecy true. Back in New York, she experienced
+a poverty more ravaging than any she had known in those five lean years
+of her working in the store. She had been absolutely penniless for two
+days, and without food through the gnawing hours, when she at last found
+employment of the humblest in a milliner's shop. Followed a blessed
+interval 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. In
+due time, an officer informed Mary's employer concerning the fact of
+her record as a convict, and thereupon she was at once discharged. The
+unfortunate victim of the law came perilously close to despair then.
+Yet, her spirit triumphed, and again she persevered in that resolve
+to live straight. Finally, for the second time, she secured a cheap
+position in a cheap shop--only to be again persecuted by the police, so
+that 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 told
+her employer, a candy manufacturer in a small way, the truth as to her
+having 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 criminal
+record, 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 the
+assistance of Edward Gilder himself, who obligingly wrote a very severe
+letter to the girl's employer. In the end, such tactics alarmed the
+man. For the sake of his own interests, though unwillingly enough, he
+dismissed Mary from his service.
+
+It was then that despair did come upon the girl. She had tried with all
+the strength of her to live straight. Yet, despite her innocence,
+the world would not let her live according to her own conscience. It
+demanded that she be the criminal it had branded her--if she were to
+live at all. So, it was despair! For she would not turn to evil, and
+without such turning she could not live. She still walked the streets
+falteringly, seeking some place; but her heart was gone from the quest.
+Now, she was sunken in an apathy that saved her from the worst pangs
+of misery. She had suffered so much, so poignantly, that at last her
+emotions had grown sluggish. She did not mind much even when her tiny
+hoard 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 with
+amazed horror of suicide, unable to imagine any trouble sufficient
+to drive one to death as the only relief. Now, however, the thing was
+simple to her. Since there was nothing else, she must turn to that--to
+death. Indeed, it was so very simple, so final, and so easy, after the
+agonies she had endured, that she marveled over her own folly in not
+having sought such escape before.... Even with the first wild fancy, she
+had unconsciously bent her steps westward toward the North River. Now,
+she quickened her pace, anxious for the plunge that should set the term
+to sorrow. In her numbed brain was no flicker of thought as to whatever
+might come to her afterward. Her sole guide was that compelling
+passion of desire to be done with this unbearable present. Nothing else
+mattered--not in the least!
+
+So, she came through the long stretch of ill-lighted streets, crossed
+some 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 of
+waters.... But, in that final second, natural terror in the face of
+death overcame the lethargy of despair--a shriek burst from her lips.
+
+But for that scream of fear, the story of Mary Turner had ended there
+and then. Only one person was anywhere near to catch the sound. And that
+single person heard. On the south side of the pier a man had just tied
+up a motor-boat. He stood up in alarm at the cry, and was just in time
+to gain a glimpse of a white face under the dim moonlight as it swept
+down with the tide, two rods beyond him. On the instant, he threw off
+his coat and sprang far out after the drifting body. He came to it in a
+few furious strokes, caught it. Then began the savage struggle to save
+her and himself. The currents tore at him wrathfully, but he fought
+against them with all the fierceness of his nature. He had strength
+a-plenty, but it needed all of it, and more, to win out of the river's
+hungry clutch. What saved the two of them was the violent temper of the
+man. Always, it had been the demon to set him aflame. To-night, there
+in the faint light, within the grip of the waters, he was moved to
+insensate fury against the element that menaced. His rage mounted, and
+gave him new power in the battle. Maniacal strength grew out of supreme
+wrath. Under the urge of it, he conquered--at last brought himself and
+his charge to the shore.
+
+When, finally, the rescuer was able to do something more than gasp
+chokingly, he gave anxious attention to the woman whom he had brought
+out from the river. Yet, at the outset, he could not be sure that she
+still lived. She had shown no sign of life at any time since he had
+first seized her. That fact had been of incalculable advantage to him
+in his efforts to reach the shore with her. Now, however, it alarmed him
+mightily, though it hardly seemed possible that she could have drowned.
+So far as he could determine, she: had not even sunk once beneath the
+surface. Nevertheless, she displayed no evidence of vitality, though
+he chafed her hands for a long time. The shore here was very lonely; it
+would take precious time to summon aid. It seemed, notwithstanding, that
+this must be the only course. Then just as the man was about to leave
+her, the girl sighed, very faintly, with an infinite weariness, and
+opened her eyes. The man echoed the sigh, but his was of joy, since now
+he knew that his strife in the girl's behalf had not been in vain.
+
+Afterward, the rescuer experienced no great difficulty in carrying
+out his work to a satisfactory conclusion. Mary revived to clear
+consciousness, which was at first inclined toward hysteria, but this
+phase yielded soon under the sympathetic ministrations of the man. His
+rather low voice was soothing to her tired soul, and his whole air
+was at once masterful and gently tender. Moreover, there was an
+inexpressible balm to her spirit in the very fact that some one was thus
+ministering to her. It was the first time for many dreadful years that
+any one had taken thought for her welfare. The effect of it was like a
+draught of rarest wine to warm her heart. So, she rested obediently as
+he busied himself with her complete restoration, and, when finally she
+was able to stand, and to walk with the support of his arm, she went
+forward slowly at his side without so much even as a question of
+whither.
+
+And, curiously, the man himself shared the gladness that touched
+the mood of the girl, for he experienced a sudden pride in his
+accomplishment of the night, a pride that delighted a starved part of
+his nature. Somewhere in him were the seeds of self-sacrifice, the
+seeds of a generous devotion to others. But those seeds had been left
+undeveloped in a life that had been lived since early boyhood outside
+the pale of respectability. To-night, Joe Garson had performed, perhaps,
+his first action with no thought of self at the back of it. He had
+risked his life to save that of a stranger. The fact astonished him,
+while it pleased him hugely. The sensation was at once novel and
+thrilling. Since it was so agreeable, he meant to prolong the glow of
+self-satisfaction by continuing to care for this waif of the river. He
+must make his rescue complete. It did not occur to him to question his
+fitness for the work. His introspection did not reach to a point of
+suspecting that he, an habitual criminal, was necessarily of a sort to
+be most objectionable as the protector of a young girl. Indeed, had any
+one suggested the thought to him, he would have met it with a sneer, to
+the effect that a wretch thus tired of life could hardly object to any
+one who constituted himself her savior.
+
+In this manner, Joe Garson, the notorious forger, led the dripping girl
+eastward through the squalid streets, until at last they came to an
+adequately lighted avenue, and there a taxicab was found. It carried
+them farther north, and to the east still, until at last it came to a
+halt before an apartment house that was rather imposing, set in a street
+of humbler dwellings. Here, Garson paid the fare, and then helped
+the girl to alight, and on into the hallway. Mary went with him quite
+unafraid, 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, she
+waited patiently; only, watched with intentness as he pressed the button
+of a flat number. She observed with interest the thick, wavy gray of
+his hair, which contradicted pleasantly the youthfulness of his
+clean-shaven, resolute face, and the spare, yet well-muscled form.
+
+The clicking of the door-latch sounded soon, and the two entered, and
+went slowly up three flights of stairs. On the landing beyond the third
+flight, the door of a rear flat stood open, and in the doorway appeared
+the figure of a woman.
+
+“Well, Joe, who's the skirt?” this person demanded, as the man and his
+charge halted before her. Then, abruptly, the round, baby-like face of
+the woman puckered in amazement. Her voice rose shrill. “My Gawd, if it
+ain't Mary Turner!”
+
+At that, the newcomer's eyes opened swiftly to their widest, and she
+stared astounded in her turn.
+
+“Aggie!” she cried.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. WITHIN THE LAW.
+
+In the time that followed, Mary lived in the flat which Aggie Lynch
+occupied along with her brother, Jim, a pickpocket much esteemed among
+his fellow craftsmen. The period wrought transformations of radical and
+bewildering sort in both the appearance and the character of the girl.
+Joe Garson, the forger, had long been acquainted with Aggie and her
+brother, though he considered them far beneath him in the social scale,
+since their criminal work was not of that high kind on which he prided
+himself. But, as he cast about for some woman to whom he might take the
+hapless girl he had rescued, his thoughts fell on Aggie, and forthwith
+his determination was made, since he knew that she was respectable,
+viewed according to his own peculiar lights. He was relieved rather than
+otherwise to learn that there was already an acquaintance between the
+two women, and the fact that his charge had served time in prison did
+not influence him one jot against her. On the contrary, it increased in
+some measure his respect for her as one of his own kind. By the time he
+had learned as well of her innocence, he had grown so interested
+that even her folly, as he was inclined to deem it, did not cause any
+wavering in his regard.
+
+Now, at last, Mary Turner let herself drift. It seemed to her that she
+had abandoned herself to fate in that hour when she threw herself into
+the river. Afterward, without any volition on her part, she had been
+restored 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 by
+her futile strivings. For the first time in her life, thanks to the
+hospitality of Aggie Lynch, secretly reinforced from the funds of Joe
+Garson, Mary found herself living in luxurious idleness, while her every
+wish could be gratified by the merest mention of it. She was fed on the
+daintiest of fare, for Aggie was a sybarite in all sensuous pleasures
+that were apart from sex. She was clothed with the most delicate
+richness for the first time as to those more mysterious garments which
+women love, and she soon had a variety of frocks as charming as her
+graceful form demanded. In addition, there were as many of books and
+magazines as she could wish. Her mind, long starved like her body,
+seized avidly on the nourishment thus afforded. In this interest, Aggie
+had no share--was perhaps a little envious over Mary's absorption in
+printed pages. But for her consolation were the matters of food and
+dress, and of countless junketings. In such directions, Aggie was the
+leader, 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 great
+triumphs to come, though as yet she carefully avoided any suggestion to
+Mary of wrong-doing.
+
+In the end, the suggestion came from Mary Turner herself, to the great
+surprise of Aggie, and, truth to tell, of herself.
+
+There were two factors that chiefly influenced her decision. The first
+was due to the feeling that, since the world had rejected her, she
+need no longer concern herself with the world's opinion, or retain any
+scruples over it. Back of this lay her bitter sentiment toward the man
+who had been the direct cause of her imprisonment, Edward Gilder. It
+seemed to her that the general warfare against the world might well be
+made an initial step in the warfare she meant to wage, somehow, some
+time, against that man personally, in accordance with the hysterical
+threat she had uttered to his face.
+
+The factor that was the immediate cause of her decision on an irregular
+mode of life was an editorial in one of the daily newspapers. This was
+a scathing arraignment of a master in high finance. The point of the
+writer's attack was the grim sarcasm for such methods of thievery as are
+kept within the law. That phrase held the girl's fancy, and she read the
+article again with a quickened interest. Then, she began to meditate.
+She herself was in a curious, indeterminate attitude as far as concerned
+the law. It was the law that had worked the ruin of her life, which she
+had striven to make wholesome. In consequence, she felt for the law no
+genuine respect, only detestation as for the epitome of injustice.
+Yet, she gave it a superficial respect, born of those three years of
+suffering which had been the result of the penalty inflicted on her. It
+was as an effect of this latter feeling that she was determined on one
+thing of vital importance: that never would she be guilty of anything
+to pit her against the law's decrees. She had known too many hours
+of anguish in the doom set on her life because she had been deemed a
+violator of the law. No, never would she let herself take any position
+in which the law could accuse her.... But there remained the fact that
+the actual cause of her long misery was this same law, manipulated by
+the man she hated. It had punished her, though she had been without
+fault. For that reason, she must always regard it as her enemy, must,
+indeed, hate it with an intensity beyond words--with an intensity equal
+to that she bore the man, Gilder. Now, in the paragraph she had just
+read she found a clue to suggestive thought, a hint as to a means by
+which she might satisfy her rancor against the law that had outraged
+her--and this in safety since she would attempt nought save that within
+the law.
+
+Mary's heart leaped at the possibility back of those three words,
+“within the law.” She might do anything, seek any revenge, work any
+evil, enjoy any mastery, as long as she should keep within the law.
+There could be no punishment then. That was the lesson taught by the
+captain in high finance. He was at pains always in his stupendous
+robberies to keep within the law. To that end, he employed lawyers of
+mighty cunning and learning to guide his steps aright in such tortuous
+paths.
+
+There, then, was the secret. Why should she not use the like means? Why,
+indeed? She had brains enough to devise, surely. Beyond that, she
+needed only to keep her course most carefully within those limits of
+wrong-doing permitted by the statutes. For that, the sole requirement
+would be a lawyer equally unscrupulous and astute. At once, Mary's mind
+was made up. After all, the thing was absurdly simple. It was merely a
+matter for ingenuity and for prudence in alliance.... Moreover, there
+would come eventually some adequate device against her arch-enemy,
+Edward Gilder.
+
+Mary meditated on the idea for many days, and ever it seemed
+increasingly good to her. Finally, it developed to a point where she
+believed it altogether feasible, and then she took Joe Garson into
+her confidence. He was vastly astonished at the outset and not quite
+pleased. To his view, this plan offered merely a fashion of setting
+difficulties in the way of achievement. Presently, however, the
+sincerity and persistence of the girl won him over. The task of
+convincing him would have been easier had he himself ever known the
+torment of serving a term in prison. Thus far, however, the forger
+had always escaped the penalty for his crimes, though often close to
+conviction. But Mary's arguments were of a compelling sort as she set
+them forth in detail, and they made their appeal to Garson, who was by
+no means lacking in a shrewd native intelligence. He agreed that the
+experiment should be made, notwithstanding the fact that he felt no
+particular enthusiasm over the proposed scheme of working. It is likely
+that his own strong feeling of attraction toward the girl whom he had
+saved from death, who now appeared before him as a radiantly beautiful
+young woman, was more persuasive than the excellent ideas which she
+presented so emphatically, and with a logic so impressive.
+
+An agreement was made by which Joe Garson and certain of his more
+trusted intimates in the underworld were to put themselves under the
+orders of Mary concerning the sphere of their activities. Furthermore,
+they bound themselves not to engage in any devious business without her
+consent. Aggie, too, was one of the company thus constituted, but she
+figured little in the preliminary discussions, since neither Mary nor
+the forger had much respect for the intellectual capabilities of the
+adventuress, though they appreciated to the full her remarkable powers
+of influencing men to her will.
+
+It was not difficult to find a lawyer suited to the necessities of the
+undertaking. Mary bore in mind constantly the high financier's reliance
+on the legal adviser competent to invent a method whereby to baffle the
+law at any desired point, and after judicious investigation she selected
+an ambitious and experienced Jew named Sigismund Harris, just in the
+prime of his mental vigors, who possessed a knowledge of the law only to
+be equalled by his disrespect for it. He seemed, indeed, precisely
+the man to fit the situation for one desirous of outraging the law
+remorselessly, while still retaining a place absolutely within it.
+
+Forthwith, the scheme was set in operation. As a first step, Mary Turner
+became a young lady of independent fortune, who had living with her a
+cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch. The flat was abandoned. In its stead was an
+apartment in the nineties on Riverside Drive, in which the ladies
+lived alone with two maids to serve them. Garson had rooms in the
+neighborhood, but Jim Lynch, who persistently refused the conditions
+of such an alliance, betook himself afar, to continue his reckless
+gathering of other folk's money in such wise as to make him amenable to
+the law the very first time he should be caught at it.
+
+A few tentative ventures resulted in profits so large that the company
+grew mightily enthusiastic over the novel manner of working. In each
+instance, Harris was consulted, and made his confidential statement as
+to the legality of the thing proposed. Mary gratified her eager mind
+by careful studies in this chosen line of nefariousness. After a
+few perfectly legal breach-of-promise suits, due to Aggie's winsome
+innocence of demeanor, had been settled advantageously out of court,
+Mary devised a scheme of greater elaborateness, with the legal acumen of
+the lawyer to endorse it in the matter of safety.
+
+This netted thirty thousand dollars. It was planned as the swindling
+of a swindler--which, in fact, had now become the secret principle in
+Mary's morality.
+
+A gentleman possessed of some means, none too scrupulous himself, but
+with high financial aspirations, advertised for a partner to invest
+capital in a business sure to bring large returns. This advertisement
+caught the eye of Mary Turner, and she answered it. An introductory
+correspondence encouraged her to hope for the victory in a game of
+cunning against cunning. She consulted with the perspicacious Mr.
+Harris, and especially sought from him detailed information as to
+partnership law. His statements gave her such confidence that presently
+she entered into a partnership with the advertiser. By the terms
+of their agreement, each deposited thirty thousand dollars to the
+partnership account. This sum of sixty thousand dollars was ostensibly
+to be devoted to the purchase of a tract of land, which should afterward
+be divided into lots, and resold to the public at enormous profit. As
+a matter of fact, the advertiser planned to make a spurious purchase
+of the tract in question, by means of forged deeds granted by an
+accomplice, thus making through fraud a neat profit of thirty thousand
+dollars. The issue was, however, disappointing to him in the extreme. No
+sooner was the sixty thousand dollars on deposit in the bank than Mary
+Turner drew out the whole amount, as she had a perfect right to do
+legally. When the advertiser learned of this, he was, naturally enough,
+full to overflowing with wrath. But after an interview with Harris he
+swallowed this wrath as best he might. He found that his adversary knew
+a dangerous deal as to his various swindling operations. In short, he
+could not go into court with clean hands, which is a prime stipulation
+of the law--though often honored in the breach. But the advertiser's
+hands were too perilously filthy, so he let himself be mulcted in raging
+silence.
+
+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 the
+advertiser, Mary decided that a certain General Hastings would make an
+excellent sacrifice on the altar of justice--and to her own financial
+profit. The old man was a notorious roue, of most unsavory reputation
+as a destroyer of innocence. It was probable that he would easily fall a
+victim 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 the
+most casual way. He was captivated by her freshness and beauty, her
+demureness, her ignorance of all things vicious. Straightway, he set his
+snares, being himself already limed. He showered every gallant attention
+on the naive bread-and-butter miss, and succeeded gratifyingly soon in
+winning her heart--to all appearance. But he gained nothing more, for
+the coy creature abruptly developed most effective powers of resistance
+to every blandishment that went beyond strictest propriety. His ardor
+cooled suddenly when Harris filed the papers in a suit for ten thousand
+dollars damages for breach of promise.
+
+Even while this affair was still in the course of execution, Mary
+found herself engaged in a direction that offered at least the hope
+of attaining her great desire, revenge against Edward Gilder. This
+opportunity came in the person of his son, Dick. After much contriving,
+she secured an introduction to that young man. Forthwith, she showed
+herself 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 of
+the man whom she hated she saw the instrument of vengeance for which
+she had so longed. Yet, this one thing was so vital to her that she said
+nothing of her purposes, not even to Aggie, though that observant person
+may 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 knowing
+way, while watching Mary, who was adjusting her hat before the mirror of
+her dressing-table, one pleasant spring morning.
+
+“Dollin' up a whole lot, ain't you?” Aggie remarked, affably, with that
+laxity 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 tilted
+the 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 to
+be chargin' him for his meal-ticket. And yet I ain't sure that you even
+know whether he's the real goods, or not.”
+
+The fair face of Mary Turner hardened the least bit. There shone an
+expression of inscrutable disdain in the violet eyes, as she turned to
+regard Aggie with a level glance.
+
+“I know that he's the son--the only son!--of Edward Gilder. The fact is
+enough for me.”
+
+The adventuress of the demure face shook her head in token of complete
+bafflement. Her rosy lips pouted in petulant dissatisfaction.
+
+“I don't get you, Mary,” she admitted, querulously. “You never used to
+look 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 young
+Gilder--and--good-night, nurse!”
+
+The hardness remained in Mary's face, as she continued to regard her
+friend. But, now, there was something quizzical in the glance with which
+she 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--and
+you take up with his son like----”
+
+“And yet you don't understand!” There was scorn for such gross stupidity
+in the musical voice.
+
+Aggie choked a little from the cigarette smoke, as she gave a gasp when
+suspicion of the truth suddenly dawned on her slow intelligence.
+
+“My Gawd!” Her voice came in a treble shriek of apprehension. “I'm
+wise!”
+
+“But you must understand this,” Mary went on, with an authoritative
+note in her voice. “Whatever may be between young Gilder and me is to be
+strictly my own affair. It has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of
+you, or with our schemes for money-making. And, what is more, Agnes, I
+don't want to talk about it. But----”
+
+“Yes?” queried Aggie, encouragingly, as the other paused. She hopefully
+awaited further confidences.
+
+“But I do want to know,” Mary continued with some severity, “what
+you meant by talking in the public street yesterday with a common
+pickpocket.”
+
+Aggie's childlike face changed swiftly its expression from a sly
+eagerness to sullenness.
+
+“You know perfectly well, Mary Turner,” she cried indignantly, “that
+I only said a few words in passin' to my brother Jim. And he ain't no
+common pickpocket. Hully Gee! He's the best dip in the business.”
+
+“But you must not be seen speaking with him,” Mary directed, with a
+certain air of command now become habitual to her among the members of
+her clique. “My cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch, must be very careful as to her
+associates.”
+
+The volatile Agnes was restored to good humor by some subtle quality in
+the utterance, and a family pride asserted itself.
+
+“He just stopped me to say it's been the best year he ever had,” she
+explained, with ostentatious vanity.
+
+Mary appeared sceptical.
+
+“How can that be,” she demanded, “when the dead line now is John
+Street?”
+
+“The dead line!” Aggie scoffed. A peal of laughter rang merrily from her
+curving 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 down
+to Police Headquarters, just for a little excitement, 'cause Jim does
+sure hate a dull life. Say, he told me they've got a mat at the
+door with 'Welcome' on it--in letters three feet high. Now,
+what--do--you--think--of that!” Aggie teetered joyously, the while
+she inhaled a shockingly large mouthful of smoke. “And, oh, yes!”
+ she continued happily, “Jim, he lifted a leather from a bull who was
+standing in the hallway there at Headquarters! Jim sure does love
+excitement.”
+
+Mary lifted her dark eyebrows in half-amused inquiry.
+
+“It's no use, Agnes,” she declared, though without entire sincerity; “I
+can't quite keep up with your thieves' argot--your slang, you know. Just
+what 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 mincing
+air which ill assorted with the cigarette that she held between her
+lips.
+
+“He gently removed a leathern wallet,” she said sedately, “containing
+a large sum of money from the coat pocket of a member of the detective
+force.” The elegance of utterance was inimitably done. But in the next
+instant, the ordinary vulgarity of enunciation was in full play again.
+“Oh, Gee!” she cried gaily. “He says Inspector Burke's got a gold watch
+that weighs a ton, an' all set with diamon's!--which was give to 'im
+by--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 soon
+as 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. And
+as 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 a
+spoiled 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 home
+like 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, I
+can't see----”
+
+Mary began putting on her gloves, and at the same time strove to give
+this 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 have
+made 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 engaged
+lawyers clever enough to show them how they could do it, and still keep
+within the law. Any one with brains can get rich in this country if he
+will engage the right lawyer. Well, I have the brains--and Harris is
+showing me the law--the wonderful twisted law that was made for the
+rich! Since we keep inside the law, we are safe.”
+
+Aggie, without much apprehension of the exact situation, was moved to a
+dimpled mirth over the essential humor of the method indicated.
+
+“Gee, that's funny,” she cried happily. “You an' me an' Joe Garson
+handin' it to 'em, an' the bulls can't touch us! Next thing you know,
+Harris will be havin' us incorporated as the American Legal Crime
+Society.”
+
+“I shouldn't be in the least surprised,” Mary assented, as she finished
+buttoning her gloves. She smiled, but there was a hint of grimness in
+the bending of her lips. That grimness remained, as she glanced at
+the clock, then went toward the door of the room, speaking over her
+shoulder.
+
+“And, now I must be off to a most important engagement with Mr. Dick
+Gilder.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. A TIP FROM HEADQUARTERS.
+
+Presently, when she had finished the cigarette, Aggie proceeded to her
+own chamber and there spent a considerable time in making a toilette
+calculated to set off to its full advantage the slender daintiness of
+her form. When at last she was gowned to her satisfaction, she went
+into the drawing-room of the apartment and gave herself over to more
+cigarettes, in an easy chair, sprawled out in an attitude of comfort
+never taught in any finishing school for young ladies. She at the same
+time indulged her tastes in art and literature by reading the jokes and
+studying the comic pictures in an evening paper, which the maid brought
+in at her request. She had about exhausted this form of amusement when
+the coming of Joe Garson, who was usually in and out of the apartment
+a number of times daily, provided a welcome diversion. After a casual
+greeting 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 resolute
+face 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 that
+caused Aggie to regard him curiously.
+
+“Mary has been with him a good deal lately,” he said, half
+questioningly.
+
+“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 under
+the vulgar words.
+
+“Think she's stuck on him?” He had seated himself on a settee opposite
+the girl, who did not trouble on his account to assume a posture more
+decorous, 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 being
+the 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 he
+craved precise knowledge in this matter.
+
+“It's Mary,” he explained, with some embarrassment; “her and young
+Gilder.”
+
+“Well?” came the crisp question.
+
+“Well, somehow,” Garson went on, still somewhat confusedly, “I can't see
+any 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 on
+to his boy's going with Mary, he'd be likely to send the police after
+us--strong! Believe me, I ain't looking for any trip up the river.”
+
+Aggie shook her head, quite unaffected by the man's suggestion of
+possible peril in the situation.
+
+“We ain't done nothin' they can touch us for,” she declared, with
+assurance. “Mary says so.”
+
+Garson, however, was unconvinced, notwithstanding his deference to the
+judgment of his leader.
+
+“Whether we've done anything, or whether we haven't, don't matter,” he
+objected. “Once the police set out after you, they'll get you. Russia
+ain't in it with some of the things I have seen pulled off in this
+town.”
+
+“Oh, can that 'fraid talk!” Aggie exclaimed, roughly. “I tell you they
+can'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 appeared
+the maid, protesting angrily.
+
+“Never mind that announcing thing with me,” the newcomer rasped to the
+expostulating servant, in a voice that suited well his thick-set figure,
+with the bullet-shaped head and the bull-like neck. Then he turned to
+the 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. “You
+can go.”
+
+As the servant, after an indignant toss of the head, departed along the
+passage, the visitor clumped heavily forward and stopped in the center
+of the room, looking first at one and then the other of the two with a
+smile that was not pleasant. He was not at pains to remove the derby
+hat which he wore rather far back on his head. By this single sign, one
+might have recognized Cassidy, who had had Mary Turner in his charge
+on the occasion of her ill-fated visit to Edward Gilder's office, four
+years before, though now the man had thickened somewhat, and his ruddy
+face was grown even coarser.
+
+“Hello, Joe!” he cried, familiarly. “Hello, Aggie!”
+
+The light-gray eyes of the forger had narrowed perceptibly as he
+recognized the identity of the unceremonious caller, while the lines of
+his 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 girl
+for a moment, “when she comes back, just tell her it's up to her to make
+a get-away, and to make it quick.”
+
+But Aggie was not one to be ignored under any circumstances. Now, she
+spoke with some acerbity in her voice, which could at will be wondrous
+soft and low.
+
+“Say!” she retorted viciously, “you can't throw any scare into us. You
+hadn't got anything on us. See?”
+
+Cassidy, in response to this outburst, favored the girl with a long
+stare, and there was hearty amusement in his tones as he answered.
+
+“Nothing on you, eh? Well, well, let's see.” He regarded Garson with a
+grin. “You are Joe Garson, forger.” As he spoke, the detective took a
+note-book from a pocket, found a page, and then read: “First arrested in
+1891, for forging the name of Edwin Goodsell to a check for ten thousand
+dollars. Again arrested June 19, 1893, for forgery. Arrested in April,
+1898, for forging the signature of Oscar Hemmenway to a series of bonds
+that were counterfeit. Arrested as the man back of the Reilly gang, in
+1903. Arrested in 1908 for forgery.”
+
+There was no change in the face or pose of the man who listened to the
+reading. When it was done, and the officer looked up with a resumption
+of 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 had
+regained her usual expression of demure innocence, but with her
+rather too heavy brows drawn a little lower than their wont, under the
+influence of an emotion otherwise concealed.
+
+“And you're little Aggie Lynch,” Cassidy declared, as he thrust the
+note-book back into his pocket. “Just now, you're posing as Mary
+Turner's cousin. You served two years in Burnsing for blackmail. You
+were arrested in Buffalo, convicted, and served your stretch. Nothing on
+you? Well, well!” Again there was triumph in the officer's chuckle.
+
+Aggie showed no least sign of perturbation in the face of
+this revelation of her unsavory record. Only an expression of
+half-incredulous wonder and delight beamed from her widely opened blue
+eyes 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 his
+knowledge reached.
+
+“And the head of the gang is Mary Turner. Arrested four years ago for
+robbing the Emporium. Did her stretch of three years.”
+
+“Is that all you've got about her?” Garson demanded, with such
+abruptness that Cassidy forgot his dignity sufficiently to answer with
+an unqualified yes.
+
+The forger continued speaking rapidly, and now there was an undercurrent
+of feeling in his voice.
+
+“Nothing in your record of her about her coming out without a friend
+in the world, and trying to go straight? You ain't got nothing in that
+pretty little book of your'n about your going to the millinery store
+where she finally got a job, and tipping them off to where she come
+from?”
+
+“Sure, they was tipped off,” Cassidy answered, quite unmoved. And he
+added, 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, and
+having her thrown out? Got it there about the letter you had old Gilder
+write, 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 in
+his voice as he replied.
+
+“You did not! She was railroaded for a job she never done. She went in
+honest, 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 got
+nothing in that record about my jumping into the river after her?” The
+forger's voice deepened and trembled with the intensity of his emotion,
+which was now grown so strong that any who listened and looked might
+guess something of the truth as to his feeling toward this woman of whom
+he spoke. “That's where I found her--a girl that never done nobody any
+harm, starving because you police wouldn't give her a chance to work. In
+the river because she wouldn't take the only other way that was left her
+to make a living, because she was keeping straight!... Have you got any
+of that in your book?”
+
+Cassidy, who had been scowling in the face of this arraignment, suddenly
+gave 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, he
+had 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 form
+stiffened to rigidity after one lightning-swift step forward, and his
+face grayed. The eyes glowed with the fires of a man's heart in a spasm
+of hate. He was the embodiment of rage, as he spoke huskily, his voice a
+whisper that was yet louder than any shout.
+
+“Cut that!”
+
+The eyes of the two men locked. Cassidy struggled with all his pride
+against the dominant fury this man hurled on him.
+
+“What?” he demanded, blusteringly. But his tone was weaker than its
+wont.
+
+“I mean,” Garson repeated, and there was finality in his accents, a
+deadly quality that was appalling, “I mean, cut it out--now, here, and
+all the time! It don't go!” The voice rose slightly. The effect of it
+was 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 last
+fell. 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 an
+observation that revealed in some measure the shock of the experience he
+had just undergone.
+
+“You would have been a big man, Joe, if it hadn't been for that temper
+of yours. It's got you into trouble once or twice already. Some time
+it'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 eyes
+were free from the gaze that had burned into his soul, “you've got to
+clear out, the whole gang of you--and do it quick.”
+
+Aggie, who as a matter of fact began to feel that she was not receiving
+her due share of attention, now interposed, moving forward till her face
+was close to the detective's.
+
+“We don't scare worth a cent,” she snapped, with the virulence of a
+vixen. “You can't do anything to us. We ain't broke the law.” There came
+a sudden ripple of laughter, and the charming lips curved joyously, as
+she added: “Though perhaps we have bent it a bit.”
+
+Cassidy sneered, outraged by such impudence on the part of an
+ex-convict.
+
+“Don't make no difference what you've done,” he growled. “Gee!” he went
+on, with a heavy sneer. “But things are coming to a pretty pass when a
+gang of crooks gets to arguing about their rights. That's funny, that
+is!”
+
+“Then laugh!” Aggie exclaimed, insolently, and made a face at the
+officer. “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's
+all. If you don't, one of you will make a long visit with some people
+out of town, and it'll probably be Mary. Remember, I'm giving it to you
+straight.”
+
+Aggie assumed her formal society manner, exaggerated to the point of
+extravagance.
+
+“Do come again, little one,” she chirruped, caressingly. “I've enjoyed
+your visit so much!”
+
+But Cassidy paid no apparent attention to her frivolousness; only turned
+and went noisily out of the drawing-room, offering no return to her
+daintily inflected good-afternoon.
+
+For her own part, as she heard the outer door close behind the
+detective, Aggie's expression grew vicious, and the heavy brows drew
+very low, until the level line almost made her prettiness vanish.
+
+“The truck-horse detective!” she sneered. “An eighteen collar, and a
+six-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 in
+his 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 beside
+her, and stretched her feet comfortably, if very inelegantly, on a chair
+opposite.
+
+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 can
+make 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 did
+not finish the sentence, but sank down into his chair with a groan that
+was almost of despair.
+
+The girl replied with a burst of careless laughter.
+
+“Joe,” she said gaily, “you're one grand little forger, all right, all
+right. But Mary's got the brains. Pooh, I'll string along with her as
+far as she wants to go. She's educated, she is. She ain't like you and
+me, 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 ask
+me--just ask me, that's all. She's been tryin' to make a lady out of
+me!”
+
+The vivaciousness of the girl distracted the man for the moment from
+the gloom of his thoughts, and he turned to survey the speaker with a
+cynical amusement.
+
+“Swell chance!” he commented, drily.
+
+“Oh, I'm not so worse! Just you watch out.” The lively girl sprang
+up, discarded the cigarette, adjusted an imaginary train, and spoke
+lispingly in a society manner much more moderate and convincing than
+that with which she had favored the retiring Cassidy. Voice, pose and
+gesture proclaimed at least the excellent mimic.
+
+“How do you do, Mrs. Jones! So good of you to call!... My dear Miss
+Smith, this is indeed a pleasure.” She seated herself again, quite
+primly now, and moved her hands over the tabouret appropriately to her
+words. “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 this
+absurd ending, Aggie again arranged her feet according to her liking on
+the opposite chair. “That's the kind of stuff she's had me doing,” she
+rattled on in her coarser voice, “and believe me, Joe, it's damned near
+killing me. But all the same,” she hurried on, with a swift revulsion
+of mood to the former serious topic, “I'm for Mary strong! You stick to
+her, Joe, and you'll wear diamon's.... And that reminds me! I wish she'd
+let me wear mine, but she won't. She says they're vulgar for an innocent
+country girl like her cousin, Agnes Lynch. Ain't that fierce?... How can
+anything 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 important
+engagement with Dick Gilder, of which she had spoken to Aggie. After
+separating from the young man, she went alone down Broadway, walking the
+few blocks of distance to Sigismund Harris's office. On a corner, her
+attention was caught by the forlorn face of a girl crossing into the
+side street. A closer glance showed that the privation of the gaunt
+features was emphasized by the scant garments, almost in tatters.
+Instantly, Mary's quick sympathies were aroused, the more particularly
+since the wretched child seemed of about the age she herself had been
+when her great suffering had befallen. So, turning aside, she soon
+caught up with the girl and spoke an inquiry.
+
+It was the familiar story, a father out of work, a sick mother, a brood
+of hungry children. Some confused words of distress revealed the fact
+that the wobegone girl was even then fighting the final battle of purity
+against starvation. That she still fought on in such case proved enough
+as to her decency of nature, wholesome despite squalid surroundings.
+Mary's heart was deeply moved, and her words of comfort came with a
+simple sincerity that was like new life to the sorely beset waif. She
+promised to interest herself in securing employment for the father,
+such care as the mother and children might need, along with a proper
+situation for the girl herself. In evidence of her purpose, she took her
+engagement-book from her bag, and set down the street and number of the
+East Side tenement where the family possessed the one room that
+mocked the word home, and she gave a banknote to the girl to serve the
+immediate needs.
+
+When she went back to resume her progress down Broadway, Mary felt
+herself vastly cheered by the warm glow within, which is the reward of
+a kindly act, gratefully received. And, on this particular morning, she
+craved such assuagement of her spirit, for the conscience that, in
+spite of all her misdeeds, still lived was struggling within her. In
+her revolt against a world that had wantonly inflicted on her the worst
+torments, Mary Turner had thought that she might safely disregard those
+principles in which she had been so carefully reared. She had believed
+that by the deliberate adoption of a life of guile within limits allowed
+by the law, she would find solace for her wants, while feeling that thus
+she avenged herself in some slight measure for the indignities she had
+undergone unjustly. Yet, as the days passed, days of success as far as
+her scheming was concerned, this brilliant woman, who had tried to deem
+herself unscrupulous, found that lawlessness within the law failed to
+satisfy something deep within her soul. The righteousness that was
+her instinct was offended by the triumphs achieved through so devious
+devices, though she resolutely set her will to suppress any spiritual
+rebellion.
+
+There was, as well, another grievance of her nature, yet more subtle,
+infinitely more painful. This lay in her craving for tenderness. She
+was wholly woman, notwithstanding the virility of her intelligence,
+its audacity, its aggressiveness. She had a heart yearning for the
+multitudinous affections that are the prerogative of the feminine; she
+had 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 been
+none on whom she could lavish the great gifts of her tenderness. Through
+the days of her working in the store, circumstances had shut her out
+from all association with others congenial. No need to rehearse the
+impossibilities of companionship in the prison life. Since then, the
+situation had not vitally improved, in spite of her better worldly
+condition. For Garson, who had saved her from death, she felt a strong
+and lasting gratitude--nothing that relieved the longing for nobler
+affections. There was none other with whom she had any intimacy except
+that, of a sort, with Aggie Lynch, and by no possibility could the
+adventuress serve as an object of deep regard. The girl was amusing
+enough, and, indeed, a most likable person at her best. But she was,
+after all, a shallow-pated individual, without a shred of principle of
+any sort whatsoever, save the single merit of unswerving loyalty to her
+“pals.” Mary cherished a certain warm kindliness for the first woman
+who had befriended her in any way, but beyond this there was no finer
+feeling.
+
+Nevertheless, it is not quite accurate to say that Mary Turner had had
+no intimacy in which her heart might have been seriously engaged. In one
+instance, of recent happening, she had been much in association with a
+young man who was of excellent standing in the world, who was of good
+birth, good education, of delightful manners, and, too, wholesome and
+agreeable beyond the most of his class. This was Dick Gilder, and, since
+her companionship with him, Mary had undergone a revulsion greater than
+ever before against the fate thrust on her, which now at last she had
+chosen to welcome and nourish by acquiescence as best she might.
+
+Of course, she could not waste tenderness on this man, for she had
+deliberately set out to make him the instrument of her vengeance against
+his father. For that very reason, she suffered much from a conscience
+newly clamorous. Never for an instant did she hesitate in her
+long-cherished plan of revenge against the one who had brought ruin on
+her life, yet, through all her satisfaction before the prospect of final
+victory after continued delay, there ran the secret, inescapable sorrow
+over the fact that she must employ this means to attain her end. She had
+no thought of weakening, but the better spirit within her warred against
+the lust to repay an eye for an eye. It was the new Gospel against the
+old Law, and the fierceness of the struggle rent her. Just now, the
+doing of the kindly act seemed somehow to gratify not only her maternal
+instinct toward service of love, but, too, to muffle for a little the
+rebuking voice of her inmost soul.
+
+So she went her way more at ease, more nearly content again with herself
+and with her system of living. Indeed, as she was shown into the private
+office of the ingenious interpreter of the law, there was not a hint of
+any trouble beneath the bright mask of her beauty, radiantly smiling.
+
+Harris regarded his client with an appreciative eye, as he bowed in
+greeting, and invited her to a seat. The lawyer was a man of fine
+physique, with a splendid face of the best Semitic type, in which were
+large, dark, sparkling eyes--eyes a Lombroso perhaps might have judged
+rather too closely set. As a matter of fact, Harris had suffered a
+flagrant injustice in his own life from a suspicion of wrong-doing which
+he had not merited by any act. This had caused him a loss of prestige in
+his 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 resolutely
+set himself to the task of making as much money as possible by any means
+convenient. Mary Turner as a client delighted his heart, both because of
+the novelty of her ideas and for the munificence of the fees which she
+ungrudgingly paid with never a protest. So, as he beamed on her now, and
+spoke a compliment, it was rather the lawyer than the man that was moved
+to admiration.
+
+“Why, Miss Turner, how charming!” he declared, smiling. “Really, my dear
+young lady, you look positively bridal.”
+
+“Oh, do you think so?” Mary rejoined, with a whimsical pout, as she
+seated herself. For the moment her air became distrait, but she quickly
+regained her poise, as the lawyer, who had dropped back into his
+chair behind the desk, went on speaking. His tone now was crisply
+business-like.
+
+“I sent your cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch, the release which she is to
+sign,” 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!--perhaps
+particularly of legal documents.”
+
+“Thank you,” Mary said, evidently a little gratified by the frank praise
+of the learned gentleman for her abilities. “And have you heard from
+them yet?” she inquired.
+
+“No,” the lawyer replied. “I gave them until to-morrow. If I don't
+hear then, I shall start suit at once.” Then the lawyer's manner became
+unusually bland and self-satisfied as he opened a drawer of the desk
+and brought forth a rather formidable-appearing document, bearing a
+most 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 to
+the 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 he
+held outstretched toward her. Her scarlet lips were curved happily, and
+the 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 the
+lawyer, and there were new lusters in the violet eyes.
+
+“It's splendid,” she declared. “Did you have much trouble in getting
+it?”
+
+Harris permitted himself the indulgence of an unprofessional chuckle of
+keenest amusement before he answered.
+
+“Why, no!” he declared, with reminiscent enjoyment in his manner. “That
+is, not really!” There was an enormous complacency in his air over the
+event. “But, at the outset, when I made the request, the judge just
+naturally nearly fell off the bench. Then, I showed him that Detroit
+case, to which you had drawn my attention, and the upshot of it all
+was that he gave me what I wanted without a whimper. He couldn't help
+himself, you know. That's the long and the short of it.”
+
+That mysterious document with the imposing seal, the request for which
+had nearly caused a judge to fall off the bench, reposed safely in
+Mary's bag when she, returned to the apartment after the visit to the
+lawyer's office.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. MARKED MONEY.
+
+Mary had scarcely received from Aggie an account of Cassidy's
+threatening 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 her
+habit.
+
+“You ought to know,” Mary returned, smiling a little. “He's the
+lawyer retained by General Hastings in the matter of a certain
+breach-of-promise suit.”
+
+“Oh, you mean yours truly,” Aggie exclaimed, not in the least abashed by
+her forgetfulness in an affair that concerned herself so closely. “Hope
+he's brought the money. What about it?”
+
+“Leave the room now,” Mary ordered, crisply. “When I call to you, come
+in, 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 her
+bedroom. “I'll be a squab--surest thing you know!”
+
+Next moment, Mary gave a formal greeting to the lawyer who represented
+the man she planned to mulct effectively, and invited him to a chair
+near her, while she herself retained her place at the desk, within a
+drawer of which she had just locked the formidable-appearing document
+received from Harris.
+
+Irwin lost no time in coming to the point.
+
+“I called in reference to this suit, which Miss Agnes Lynch threatens to
+bring against my client, General Hastings.”
+
+Mary regarded the attorney with a level glance, serenely expressionless
+as far as could be achieved by eyes so clear and shining, and her voice
+was 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 he
+answered, meeting her glance with an uncompromising stare of hostility.
+
+“You realize, of course,” he said finally, “that this is merely plain
+blackmail.”
+
+There was not the change of a feature in the face of the woman who
+listened to the accusation. Her eyes steadfastly retained their clear
+gaze 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 now
+entered 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 lawyer
+again, 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 General
+Hastings cannot afford such publicity. His position would be
+jeopardized.”
+
+“Oh, as for that,” Mary suggested evenly, and now there was a trace of
+flippancy in her fashion of speaking, “I'm sure the police would keep
+your complaint a secret. Really, you know, Mr. Irwin, I think you had
+better take your troubles to the police, rather than to me. You will get
+much 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 a
+smile that would have been very engaging to any man under more favorable
+circumstances, and she pushed in his direction the telephone that stood
+there.
+
+“3100, Spring,” she remarked, encouragingly, “will bring an officer
+almost immediately.” She leaned back in her chair, and surveyed the
+baffled man amusedly.
+
+The lawyer was furious over the failure of his effort to intimidate this
+extraordinarily self-possessed young woman, who made a mock of his every
+thrust. But he was by no means at the end of his resources.
+
+“Nevertheless,” he rejoined, “you know perfectly well that General
+Hastings never promised to marry this girl. You know----” He broke off
+as Aggie entered the drawing-room,
+
+Now, the girl was demure in seeming almost beyond belief, a childish
+creature, very fair and dainty, guileless surely, with those untroubled
+eyes of blue, those softly curving lips of warmest red and the more
+delicate bloom in the rounded cheeks. There were the charms of innocence
+and simplicity in the manner of her as she stopped just within the
+doorway, whence she regarded Mary with a timid, pleading gaze, her
+slender little form poised lightly as if for flight
+
+“Did you want me, dear?” she asked. There was something half-plaintive
+in the modulated cadences of the query.
+
+“Agnes,” Mary answered affectionately, “this is Mr. Irwin, who has come
+to 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's
+chair, and there she sank down, drooping slightly, and catching hold of
+one of Mary's hands as if in mute pleading for protection against the
+fear that beset her chaste soul.
+
+“Nonsense!” Mary exclaimed, soothingly. “There's really nothing at all
+to be frightened about, my dear child.” Her voice was that with which
+one seeks to cajole a terrified infant. “You mustn't be afraid, Agnes.
+Mr. Irwin says that General Hastings did not promise to marry you. Of
+course, you understand, my dear, that under no circumstances must you
+say anything that isn't strictly true, and that, if he did not promise
+to marry you, you have no case--none at all. Now, Agnes, tell me: did
+General Hastings promise to marry you?”
+
+“Oh, yes--oh, yes, indeed!” Aggie cried, falteringly. “And I wish he
+would. He's such a delightful old gentleman!” As she spoke, the girl let
+go Mary's hand and clasped her own together ecstatically.
+
+The legal representative of the delightful old gentleman scowled
+disgustedly at this outburst. His voice was portentous, as he put a
+question.
+
+“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 toward
+the ceiling in a naive rapture. “So tender, and so--er--interesting!”
+ Somehow, the inflection on the last word did not altogether suggest the
+ingenuous.
+
+“Yes, yes, I dare say,” Irwin agreed, hastily, with some evidences of
+chagrin. He had no intention of dwelling on that feature of the letters,
+concerning which he had no doubt whatsoever, since he knew the amorous
+General very well indeed. They would be interesting, beyond shadow of
+questioning, horribly interesting. Such was the confessed opinion of the
+swain himself who had written them in his folly--horribly interesting
+to all the reading public of the country, since the General was a
+conspicuous figure.
+
+Mary intervened with a suavity that infuriated the lawyer almost beyond
+endurance.
+
+“But you're quite sure, Agnes,” she questioned gently, “that General
+Hastings did promise to marry you?” The candor of her manner was
+perfect.
+
+And the answer of Aggie was given with a like convincing emphasis.
+
+“Oh, yes!” she declared, tensely. “Why, I would swear to it.” The limpid
+eyes, so appealing in their soft lusters, went first to Mary, then gazed
+trustingly 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 toward
+Mary, whom, plainly, he regarded as his real adversary in the combat on
+his client's behalf. “I'm going to be quite frank with you, Miss
+Turner, quite frank,” he stated with more geniality, though with a very
+crestfallen air. Somehow, indeed, there was just a shade too much of
+the crestfallen in the fashion of his utterance, and the woman whom he
+addressed watched warily as he continued. “We can't afford any scandal,
+so we're going to settle at your own terms.” He paused expectantly, but
+Mary offered no comment; only maintained her alert scrutiny of the
+man. The lawyer, therefore, leaned forward with a semblance of frank
+eagerness. Instantly, Aggie had become agog with greedily blissful
+anticipations, and she uttered a slight ejaculation of joy; but Irwin
+paid no heed to her. He was occupied in taking from his pocket a thick
+bill-case, and from this presently a sheaf of banknotes, which he laid
+on the desk before Mary, with a little laugh of discomfiture over having
+been beaten in the contest.
+
+As he did so, Aggie thrust forth an avaricious hand, but it was caught
+and held by Mary before it reached above the top of the desk, and the
+avaricious gesture passed unobserved by the attorney.
+
+“We can't fight where ladies are concerned,” he went on, assuming, as
+best he might contrive, a chivalrous tone. “So, if you will just hand
+over 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 the
+letters, haven't you?” he demanded, abruptly.
+
+Aggie coyly took a thick bundle from its resting place on her rounded
+bosom.
+
+“They never leave me,” she murmured, with dulcet passion. There was
+in her voice a suggestion of desolation--a desolation that was the
+blighting effect of letting the cherished missives go from her.
+
+“Well, they can leave you now, all right,” the lawyer remarked
+unsympathetically, but with returning cheerfulness, since he saw the end
+of his quest in visible form before him. He reached quickly forward for
+the 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 with
+a note of determination that caused a quick and acute anxiety to the
+General's representative.
+
+“I think,” Mary explained tranquilly, “that you had better see our
+lawyer, Mr. Harris, in reference to this. We women know nothing of such
+details of business settlement.”
+
+“Oh, there's no need for all that formality,” Irwin urged, with a great
+appearance of bland friendliness.
+
+“Just the same,” Mary persisted, unimpressed, “I'm quite sure you would
+better see Mr. Harris first.” There was a cadence of insistence in her
+voice that assured the lawyer as to the futility of further pretense on
+his part.
+
+“Oh, I see,” he said disagreeably, with a frown to indicate his complete
+sagacity in the premises.
+
+“I thought you would, Mr. Irwin,” Mary returned, and now she smiled in
+a kindly manner, which, nevertheless, gave no pleasure to the chagrined
+man before her. As he rose, she went on crisply: “If you'll take the
+money to Mr. Harris, Miss Lynch will meet you in his office at four
+o'clock this afternoon, and, when her suit for damages for breach
+of promise has been legally settled out of court, you will get the
+letters.... Good-afternoon, Mr. Irwin.”
+
+The lawyer made a hurried bow which took in both of the women, and
+walked quickly toward the door. But he was arrested before he reached
+it by the voice of Mary, speaking again, still in that imperturbable
+evenness which so rasped his nerves, for all its mellow resonance. But
+this 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 certain
+sheepishness of expression that bore witness to the completeness of his
+discomfiture. Without a word, after a long moment in which he perceived
+intently the delicate, yet subtly energetic, loveliness of this slender
+woman, he walked back to the desk, picked up the money, and restored it
+to the bill-case. This done, at last he spoke, with a new respect in his
+voice, 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 took
+his departure, while Mary smiled in a triumph she was at no pains to
+conceal, and Aggie sat gaping astonishment over the surprising turn of
+events.
+
+It was the latter volatile person who ended the silence that followed on
+the 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 it
+was 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, we
+would have been arrested very neatly indeed--for blackmail.”
+
+Aggie's innocent eyes rounded in an amazed consternation, which was not
+at all assumed.
+
+“Gee!” she cried. “That would have been fierce! And now?” she
+questioned, 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 the
+letters he wants so much. And, just because it's a strictly business
+transaction between two lawyers, with everything done according to legal
+ethics----”
+
+“What's legal ethics?” Aggie demanded, impetuously. “They sound some
+tasty!” With the comment, she dropped weakly into a chair.
+
+Mary laughed in care-free enjoyment, as well she might after winning the
+victory in such a battle of wits.
+
+“Oh,” she said, happily, “you just get it legally, and you get twice as
+much!”
+
+“And it's actually the same old game!” Aggie mused. She was doing her
+best to get a clear understanding of the matter, though to her it was
+all 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 roue
+makes 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 voice
+quivered 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 human
+probability. But we did no such thing--no, indeed! What we did wasn't
+anything like that in the eyes of the law. What we did was merely to
+have your lawyer take steps toward a suit for damages for breach of
+promise of marriage for the sum of ten thousand dollars. Then, his
+lawyer appears in behalf of General Hastings, and there follow a
+number of conferences between the legal representatives of the opposing
+parties. By means of these conferences, the two legal gentlemen run up
+very respectable bills of expenses. In the end, we get our ten thousand
+dollars, and the flighty old General gets back his letters.... My dear,”
+ Mary concluded vaingloriously, “we're inside the law, and so we're
+perfectly safe. And there you are!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. THE THIEF.
+
+Mary remained in joyous spirits after her victorious matching of brains
+against a lawyer of high standing in his profession. For the time being,
+conscience was muted by gratified ambition. Her thoughts just then were
+far from the miseries of the past, with their evil train of consequences
+in the present. But that past was soon to be recalled to her with a
+vividness most terrible.
+
+She had entered the telephone-booth, which she had caused to be
+installed out of an extra closet of her bedroom for the sake of greater
+privacy on occasion, and it was during her absence from the drawing-room
+that Garson again came into the apartment, seeking her. On being told
+by Aggie as to Mary's whereabouts, he sat down to await her return,
+listening without much interest to the chatter of the adventuress.... It
+was 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 tittered
+appreciation.
+
+“No,” was the answer. “But she says it's important. I guess the poor
+thing's in hard luck, from the look of her,” the kindly Fannie added.
+
+“Oh, then she'll be welcome, of course,” Aggie declared, and Garson
+nodded in acquiescence. “Tell her to come in and wait, Fannie. Miss
+Turner will be here right away.” She turned to Garson as the maid left
+the room. “Mary sure is an easy boob,” she remarked, cheerfully. “Bless
+her soft heart!”
+
+A curiously gentle smile of appreciation softened the immobility of the
+forger's face as he again nodded assent.
+
+“We might just as well pipe off the skirt before Mary gets here,” Aggie
+suggested, with eagerness.
+
+A minute later, a girl perhaps twenty years of age stepped just within
+the 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 than
+herself, addressed the newcomer with a patronizing inflection, modulated
+in her best manner.
+
+“Won't you come in, please?” she requested.
+
+The shrinking girl shot another veiled look in the direction of the
+speaker.
+
+“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 her
+cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch. But Miss Turner is likely to be back any
+minute 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 addressed
+her sharply, so that the visitor started uneasily at the unexpected
+sound.
+
+“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 enough
+for 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 that
+she preferred to use them little in ordinary affairs.
+
+“You have been in stir--prison, I mean.” She hastily corrected the lapse
+into underworld slang.
+
+Came a distressed muttering of assent from the girl.
+
+“How sad!” Aggie remarked, in a voice of shocked pity for one so
+inconceivably unfortunate. “How very, very sad!”
+
+This ingenuous method of diversion was put to an end by the entrance of
+Mary, 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 fittingly
+elegant form of reply, the girl looked up. And now, for the first
+time, she spoke with some degree of energy, albeit there was a sinister
+undertone in the husky voice.
+
+“You're Miss Turner?” she questioned.
+
+“Yes,” Mary said, simply. Her words rang kindly; and she smiled
+encouragement.
+
+A gasp burst from the white lips of the girl, and she cowered as one
+stricken physically.
+
+“Mary Turner! Oh, my God! I----” She hid her face within her arms and
+sat bent until her head rested on her knees in an abasement of misery.
+
+Vaguely startled by the hysterical outburst from the girl, Mary's
+immediate thought was that here was a pitiful instance of one suffering
+from starvation.
+
+“Joe,” she directed rapidly, “have Fannie bring a glass of milk with an
+egg and a little brandy in it, right away.”
+
+The girl in the chair was shaking soundlessly under the stress of her
+emotions. 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 until
+you've had something to eat.”
+
+Aggie, who had observed developments closely, now lifted her voice in
+tardy lamentations over her own stupidity. There was no affectation of
+the fine lady in her self-reproach.
+
+“Why, the poor gawk's hungry!” she exclaimed! “And I never got the dope
+on her. Ain't I the simp!”
+
+The girl regained a degree of self-control, and showed something of
+forlorn dignity.
+
+“Yes,” she said dully, “I'm starving.”
+
+Mary regarded the afflicted creature with that sympathy born only of
+experience.
+
+“Yes,” she said softly, “I understand.” Then she spoke to Aggie. “Take
+her to my room, and let her rest there for a while. Have her drink the
+egg 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 to
+stand up. “We'll fix you out all right,” she said, comfortingly. “Come
+along with me.... Hungry! Gee, but that's tough!”
+
+Half an hour afterward, while Mary was at her desk, giving part of her
+attention to Joe Garson, who sat near, and part to a rather formidable
+pile of neatly arranged papers, Aggie reported with her charge, who,
+though still shambling of gait, and stooping, showed by some faint color
+in her face and an increased steadiness of bearing that the food had
+already strengthened her much.
+
+“She would come,” Aggie explained. “I thought she ought to rest for a
+while longer anyhow.” She half-shoved the girl into a chair opposite the
+desk, 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, and
+settled herself comfortably in a chair, with her legs merely crossed as
+a compromise between ease and propriety.
+
+“Are you quite sure?” Mary said to the girl. And then, as the other
+nodded in assent, she spoke with a compelling kindliness. “Then you
+must tell us all about it--this trouble of yours, you know. What is your
+name?”
+
+Once again the girl had recourse to the swift, searching, furtive
+glance, but her voice was colorless as she replied, listlessly:
+
+“Helen Morris.”
+
+Mary regarded the girl with an expression that was inscrutable when she
+spoke 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 before
+she 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 in
+a voice vibrant with varied emotions. “You were going to start all over
+again, 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 a
+cynical 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 first
+time.
+
+“Well, then,” she questioned, “how would you like to work with us?”
+
+The girl looked up for a second with another of her fleeting, stealthy
+glances.
+
+“You--you mean that----?”
+
+Mary explained her intention in the matter very explicitly. Her voice
+grew 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 from
+Tiffany's. But it ain't ladylike to wear it,” she concluded with a
+reproachful glance at her mentor.
+
+Mary disregarded the frivolous interruption, and went on speaking to the
+girl, and now there was something pleasantly cajoling in her manner.
+
+“Suppose I should stake you for the present, and put you in with a good
+crowd. All you would have to do would be to answer advertisements for
+servant 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 some
+night and let in the gang. Of course, you will make a get-away when they
+do, and get your bit as well.”
+
+There flashed still another of the swift, sly glances, and the lips of
+the girl parted as if she would speak. But she did not; only, her head
+sagged even lower on her breast, and the shrunken form grew yet more
+shrunken. Mary, watching closely, saw these signs, and in the same
+instant a change came over her. Where before there had been an
+underlying suggestion of hardness, there was now a womanly warmth of
+genuine sympathy.
+
+“It doesn't suit you?” she said, very softly. “Good! I was in hopes it
+wouldn't. So, here's another plan.” Her voice had become very winning.
+“Suppose you could go West--some place where you would have a fair
+chance, with money enough so you could live like a human being till you
+got a start?”
+
+There came a tensing of the relaxed form, and the head lifted a little
+so that the girl could look at her questioner. And, this time, the
+glance, though of the briefest, was less furtive.
+
+“I will give you that chance,” Mary said simply, “if you really want
+it.”
+
+That speech was like a current of strength to the wretched girl. She sat
+suddenly erect, and her words came eagerly.
+
+“Oh, I do!” And now her hungry gaze remained fast on the face of the
+woman who offered her salvation.
+
+Mary sprang up and moved a step toward the girl who continued to stare
+at her, fascinated. She was now all wholesome. The memory of her
+own wrongs surged in her during this moment only to make her more
+appreciative of the blessedness of seemly life. She was moved to a
+divine compassion over this waif for whom she might prove a beneficent
+providence. There was profound conviction in the emphasis with which she
+spoke her warning.
+
+“Then I have just one thing to say to you first. If you are going to
+live straight, start straight, and then go through with it. Do you know
+what that means?”
+
+“You mean, keep straight all the time?” The girl spoke with a force
+drawn from the other's strength.
+
+“I mean more than that,” Mary went on earnestly. “I mean, forget that
+you were ever in prison. I don't know what you have done--I don't think
+I 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. The
+sympathy 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 you
+stand up for your rights. Don't let them make you pay a second time. Go
+where no one knows you, and don't tell the first people who are kind to
+you that you have been crooked. If they think you are straight, why, be
+it. Then nobody will have any right to complain.” Her tone grew suddenly
+pleading. “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,” she
+added, and left the room.
+
+“Huh! Pretty soft for some people,” Aggie remarked to Garson, with a
+sniff. 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 sympathetic
+nature, did not scruple to speak an assent openly. Somehow, he felt an
+inexplicable prejudice against this abject recipient of Mary's bounty,
+though not for the world would he have checked the generous impulse on
+the part of the woman he so revered. It was his instinct on her behalf
+that made him now vaguely uneasy, as if he sensed some malign influence
+against her there present with them.
+
+Mary returned soon. In her hand she carried a roll of bills. She went
+to the girl and held out the money. Her voice was business-like now, but
+very kind.
+
+“Take this. It will pay your fare West, and keep you quite a while if
+you are careful.”
+
+But, without warning, a revulsion seized on the girl. Of a sudden, she
+shrank 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 to
+have 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 complete
+certainty. That Mary, too, was of their opinion was shown in her next
+words.
+
+“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 in
+it 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's
+distress, 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 question
+in 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 under
+which the girl visibly winced. Mary made a gesture toward him that he
+should not interfere. Nevertheless, the man's command had in it a
+threat which the girl could not resist and she answered, though with
+a reluctance that made the words seem dragged from her by some outside
+force--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 who
+stood 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 only
+sit in a huddled, shaking heap of dread. The woman before her had
+been disciplined by sorrow to sternest self-control. Though racked by
+emotions most intolerable, Mary soon mastered their expression to such
+an extent that when she spoke again, as if in self-communion, her words
+came quietly, yet with overtones of a supreme wo.
+
+“She did it!” Then, after a little, she addressed the girl with a
+certain wondering before this mystery of horror. “Why did you throw the
+blame 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 catch
+me. So, I took them and ran into the cloak-room, and put them in a
+locker that wasn't close to mine, and some in the pocket of a coat that
+was hanging there. God knows I didn't know whose it was. I just put them
+there--I was frightened----”
+
+“And you let me go to prison for three years!” There was a menace in
+Mary'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 you
+tell then?”
+
+“I was afraid,” came the answer from the shuddering girl. “I told them
+it was the first time I had taken anything and they let me off with a
+year.”
+
+Once more, the wrath of the victim flamed high.
+
+“You!” Mary cried. “You cried and lied, and they let you off with a
+year. I wouldn't cry. I told the truth--and----” Her voice broke in a
+tearless 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 an
+expression of infinite loathing in her eyes. Garson rose from his chair
+as if to go to her, and his face passed swiftly from compassion to
+ferocity as his gaze went from the woman he had saved from the river
+to the girl who had been the first cause of her seeking a grave in the
+waters. Yet, though he longed with every fiber of him to comfort the
+stricken woman, he did not dare intrude upon her in this time of her
+anguish, but quietly dropped back into his seat and sat watching with
+eyes 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 courage
+sufficient for cowardly protestations. It seemed to relieve the tension
+drawn by the other woman's torment. It was more like the abuse that was
+familiar 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 themselves
+pretty easily.” The contempt checked for a little the ravages of her
+grief. “Stop crying,” she commanded harshly. “Nobody is going to hurt
+you.” She thrust the money again toward the girl, and crowded it into
+the 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. She
+sprang up, slinking back a step.
+
+“I can't take it!” she cried, whimpering. But she did not drop the
+money.
+
+“Take the chance while you have it,” Mary counseled, still with the
+contempt that pierced even the hardened girl's sense of selfishness. She
+pointed toward the door. “Go!--before I change my mind.”
+
+The girl needed, indeed, no second bidding. With the money still
+clutched in her hand, she went forth swiftly, stumbling a little in her
+haste, fearful lest, at the last moment, the woman she had so wronged
+should in fact change in mood, take back the money--ay, even give her
+over to that terrible man with the eyes of hate, to put her to death as
+she deserved.
+
+Freed from the miasma of that presence, Mary remained motionless for a
+long minute, then sighed from her tortured heart. She turned and went
+slowly to her chair at the desk, and seated herself languidly, weakened
+by the ordeal through which she had passed.
+
+“A girl I didn't know!” she said, bewilderedly; “perhaps had never
+spoken to--who smashed my life like that! Oh, if it wasn't so awful, it
+would be--funny! It would be funny!” A gust of hysterical laughter burst
+from 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 a
+desperate effort for self-command. Little by little, the unmeaning look
+died down, and presently she sat silent and moveless, staring at the two
+with stormy eyes out of a wan face.
+
+“You were right,” she said at last, in a lifeless voice. “It's done, and
+can't be undone. I was a fool to let it affect me like that. I really
+thought I had lost all feeling about it, but the sight of that girl--the
+knowledge that she had done it--brought it all back to me. Well, you
+understand, 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 did
+without undue restraint.
+
+“Perhaps, we do, but I dunno! I'll tell you one thing, though. If any
+dame sent me up for three years and then wanted money from me, do you
+think she'd get it? Wake me up any time in the night and ask me. Not
+much--not a little bit much! I'd hang on to it like an old woman to her
+last tooth.” And that was Aggie's final summing up of her impressions
+concerning the scene she had just witnessed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. A BRIDEGROOM SPURNED.
+
+After Aggie's vigorous comment there followed a long silence. That
+volatile young person, little troubled as she was by sensitiveness,
+guessed the fact that just now further discussion of the event would be
+distasteful to Mary, and so she betook herself discreetly to a cigarette
+and the illustrations of a popular magazine devoted to the stage. As for
+the man, his reticence was really from a fear lest in speaking at all
+he might speak too freely, might betray the pervasive violence of his
+feeling. So, he sat motionless and wordless, his eyes carefully
+avoiding Mary in order that she might not be disturbed by the invisible
+vibrations thus sent from one to another. Mary herself was shaken to the
+depths. A great weariness, a weariness that cried the worthlessness
+of all things, had fallen upon her. It rested leaden on her soul. It
+weighed down her body as well, though that mattered little indeed. Yet,
+since she could minister to that readily, she rose and went to a settee
+on the opposite side of the room where she arranged herself among the
+cushions in a posture more luxurious than her rather precise early
+training usually permitted her to assume in the presence of others.
+There she rested, and soon felt the tides of energy again flowing in
+her blood, and that same vitality, too, wrought healing even for her
+agonized soul, though more slowly. The perfect health of her gave her
+strength to recover speedily from the shock she had sustained. It was
+this health that made the glory of the flawless skin, white with a
+living white that revealed the coursing blood beneath, and the crimson
+lips that bent in smiles so tender, or so wistful, and the limpid
+eyes in which always lurked fires that sometimes burst into flame, the
+lustrous mass of undulating hair that sparkled in the sunlight like an
+aureole to her face or framed it in heavy splendors with its shadows,
+and the supple erectness of her graceful carriage, the lithe dignity of
+her every movement.
+
+But, at last, she stirred uneasily and sat up. Garson accepted this as a
+sufficient 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 bluntness
+after the habit of his class. “I guess you'll have to quit seeing young
+Gilder. The bulls are wise. His father has made a holler.
+
+“Don't let that worry you, Joe,” she said tranquilly. She allowed a few
+seconds go by, then added as if quite indifferent: “I was married to
+Dick 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. That
+was my important engagement,” she added with a smile toward Aggie. For
+some intuitive reason, mysterious to herself, she did not care to meet
+the 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, he
+is. Gee! But I'm glad you landed him!”
+
+“Thank you,” Mary said with a smile that was the result of her sense of
+humor rather than from any tenderness.
+
+It was then that Garson spoke. He was a delicate man in his
+sensibilities at times, in spite of the fact that he followed devious
+methods in his manner of gaining a livelihood. So, now, he put a
+question of vital significance.
+
+“Do you love him?”
+
+The question caught Mary all unprepared, but she retained her
+self-control sufficiently to make her answer in a voice that to the
+ordinary ear would have revealed no least tremor.
+
+“No,” she said. She offered no explanation, no excuse, merely stated the
+fact in all its finality.
+
+Aggie was really shocked, though for a reason altogether sordid, not one
+whit romantic.
+
+“Ain't he young?” she demanded aggressively. “Ain't he good-looking, and
+loose with his money something scandalous? If I met up with a fellow
+as liberal as him, if he was three times his age, I could simply adore
+him!”
+
+It was Garson who pressed the topic with an inexorable curiosity born of
+his unselfish interest in the woman concerned.
+
+“Then, why did you marry him?” he asked. The sincerity of him was excuse
+enough for the seeming indelicacy of the question. Besides, he felt
+himself 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 him
+the 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 successful
+criminal without a single conviction to mar his record, had seized the
+implication in her statement, and now put it in words.
+
+“Then, you won't leave us? We're going on as we were before?” The hint
+of 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 most
+unladylike.
+
+“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 a
+little shrug.
+
+“Anywhere but here.”
+
+Aggie suddenly giggled. To her sense of humor there was something vastly
+diverting in this new scheme of giving bliss to a fond husband.
+
+“Anywhere but here,” she repeated gaily. “Oh, won't that be nice--for
+him? Oh, yes! Oh, quite so! Oh, yes, indeed--quite so--so!”
+
+Garson, however, was still patient in his determination to apprehend
+just 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 tell
+him, break it to him gently.”
+
+Garson was intently considering another phase of the situation, one
+suggested 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 a
+lower key, a little more slowly.
+
+“I--I suppose so.”
+
+Aggie presented the truth more subtly than could have been expected from
+her.
+
+“Think a lot of you? Of course he does! Thinks enough to marry you! And
+believe me, kid, when a man thinks enough of you to marry you, well,
+that's some thinking!”
+
+Somehow, the crude expression of this professional adventuress
+penetrated to Mary's conscience, though it held in it the truth to which
+her 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 her
+conscience--like the trump of doom to her scheme of vengeance.
+
+Garson spoke very softly, but with an intensity that left no doubt as to
+the 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 spoke
+with 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 there
+is 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'm
+always there with a full line of that lady stuff.” Thereupon, she sprang
+up, and proceeded to give her conception of the proper welcoming of the
+happy bridegroom. The performance was amusing enough in itself, but for
+some reason it moved neither of the two for whom it was rendered to
+more than perfunctory approval. The fact had no depressing effect on the
+performer, however, and it was only the coming of the maid that put her
+lively sallies to an end.
+
+“Mr. Gilder,” Fannie announced.
+
+Mary put a question with so much of energy that Garson began finally to
+understand 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 newly
+married pair at least, if not for his own. He made hasty excuses and
+went out on the heels of the maid. Aggie, however, consulting only her
+own wishes in the matter, had no thought of flight, and, if the truth be
+told, 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 the
+atmosphere.... A moment later the bridegroom entered.
+
+He was still clean-cut and wholesome. Some sons of wealthy fathers are
+not, after four years experience of the white lights of town. And the
+lines 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 the
+trivial and gross things. In an instant, he had gone to her, had caught
+her in his arms with, “Hello, dear!” smothered in the kiss he implanted
+on 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 beatific
+smile 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 a
+momentary relief.
+
+The bridegroom faced about, and perceived Agnes, who stood closely
+watching the meeting between husband and wife. He made an excellent
+formal bow of the sort that one learns only abroad, and spoke quietly.
+
+“I beg your pardon, Miss Lynch, but”--a smile of perfect happiness shone
+on his face--“you could hardly expect me to see any one but Mary under
+the circumstances. Could you?”
+
+Aggie strove to rise to this emergency, and again took on her best
+manner, 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 to
+Mary, his face glowing with satisfaction.
+
+“Mary,” he said, “I have the honeymoon trip all fixed. The Mauretania
+sails at five in the morning, so we will----”
+
+A cold voice struck suddenly through this rhapsodizing. It was that of
+the bride.
+
+“Where is your father?” she asked, without any trace of emotion.
+
+The bridegroom stopped short, and a deep blush spread itself over his
+boyish face. His tone was filled full to overflowing with compunction as
+he answered.
+
+“Oh, Lord! I had forgotten all about Dad.” He beamed on Mary with a
+smile 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. On
+the contrary, her voice was, if anything, even colder as she replied to
+his suggestion. She spoke with an emphasis that brooked no evasion.
+
+“What was your promise? I told you that I wouldn't go with you until
+you had brought your father to me, and he had wished us happiness.” Dick
+placed his hands gently on his wife's shoulders and regarded her with a
+touch of indignation in his gaze.
+
+“Mary,” he said reproachfully, “you are not going to hold me to that
+promise?”
+
+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. Then
+he moved impatiently, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. But his
+usual cheery smile came again, and he shrugged resignedly.
+
+“All right, Mrs. Gilder,” he said, gaily. The sound of the name provoked
+him to new pleasure. “Sounds fine, doesn't it?” he demanded, with an
+uxorious air.
+
+“Yes,” Mary said, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone.
+
+The husband went on speaking with no apparent heed of his wife's
+indifference.
+
+“You pack up what things you need, girlie,” he directed. “Just a
+few--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 him
+back here in half an hour. You will be all ready, won't you?”
+
+Mary answered quickly, with a little catching of her breath, but still
+coldly.
+
+“Yes, yes, I'll be ready. Go and bring your father.”
+
+“You bet I will,” Dick cried heartily. He would have taken her in his
+arms 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 the
+monosyllable.
+
+It was evident that Dick perceived the futility of argument.
+
+“For a married woman you certainly are shy,” he replied, with a sly
+glance toward Aggie, who beamed back sympathy. “You'll excuse me, won't
+you, Miss Lynch,... Good-by, Mrs. Gilder.” He made a formal bow to his
+wife. As he hurried to the door, he expressed again his admiration for
+the name. “Mrs. Gilder! Doesn't that sound immense?” And with that he
+was gone.
+
+There was silence in the drawing-room until the two women heard the
+closing of the outer door of the apartment. Then, at last, Aggie
+relieved 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 General
+Hastings 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 spoke
+crisply to Agnes. “And now you must get ready. You are to be at Harris's
+office with this document at four o'clock, and remember that you are to
+let 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 like
+a lamb to the slaughter-house.” And that was the nearest the little
+adventuress ever came to making a Biblical quotation.
+
+“Anyhow,” she protested, “I don't see the use of all this monkey
+business 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 more
+brains than a gnat.”
+
+“And brains are mighty useful things, even in our business,” Mary
+replied 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 very
+primly under the enormous hat that was garnished with costliest plumes.
+It was thus that she consoled herself in a measure for the business of
+the occasion--in lieu of cracked ice from Tiffany's at one hundred and
+fifty 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 said
+spitefully.
+
+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 of
+his 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; mine
+is not. Understand?”
+
+“Oh, sure,” Aggie replied, grimly, on her way to the door. “It's clear
+as Pittsburgh.” With that sarcasm directed against legal subtleties, she
+tripped daintily out, an entirely ravishing vision, if somewhat garish
+as to raiment, and soon in the glances of admiration that every man
+cast on her guileless-seeming beauty, she forgot that she had ever been
+annoyed.
+
+Garson's comment as she departed was uttered with his accustomed
+bluntness.
+
+“Solid ivory!”
+
+“She's a darling, anyway!” Mary declared, smiling. “You really don't
+half-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 the
+maid, which was explained a minute later when, in accordance with her
+mistress's order, the visitor was shown into the drawing-room, for his
+presence was of an elegance so extraordinary as to attract attention
+anywhere--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? Probably
+got 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 Eddie
+himself, a tall, handsome man in the early thirties, who paused just
+within the doorway, and delivered to Mary a bow that was the perfection
+of elegance. Mary made no effort to restrain the smile caused by the
+costume of Mr. Griggs. Yet, there was no violation of the canons of good
+taste, except in the aggregate. From spats to hat, from walking coat
+to gloves, everything was perfect of its kind. Only, there was an
+over-elaboration, so that the ensemble was flamboyant. And the man's
+manners precisely harmonized with his clothes, whereby the whole effect
+was emphasized and rendered bizarre. Garson took one amazed look, and
+then rocked with laughter.
+
+Griggs regarded his former associate reproachfully for a moment, and
+then 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 the
+under-world for his manner of dressing, and he regarded this latest
+achievement as his masterpiece.
+
+“Sure some duds!” Garson admitted, checking his merriment.
+
+“From your costume,” Mary suggested, “one might judge that this is
+purely 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 us
+all about it.”
+
+While she was speaking, Garson went to the various doors, and made
+sure that all were shut, then he took a seat in a chair near that which
+Griggs occupied by the desk, so that the three were close together, and
+could 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 the
+world.... Two years ago, a set of Gothic tapestries, worth three hundred
+thousand dollars and a set of Fragonard panels, worth nearly as much
+more, were plucked from a chateau in France and smuggled into this
+country.”
+
+“I have never heard of that,” Mary said, with some interest.
+
+“No,” Griggs replied. “You naturally wouldn't, for the simple reason
+that 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 tapestries
+worth 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 of
+fiercest 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 the
+library of a millionaire in this city.” He hitched his chair a little
+closer to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to a
+whisper as he stated his plan.
+
+“Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter what
+happens, 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 with
+eyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, he
+spoke 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 get
+half a million,” he said aggressively.
+
+Mary, however, was unimpressed.
+
+“If it were fifty millions, it would make no difference. It's against
+the law.”
+
+“Oh, I know all that, of course,” Griggs returned impatiently. “But if
+you can----”
+
+Mary interrupted him in a tone of finality.
+
+“My friends and I never do anything that's illegal! Thank you for
+coming to us, Mr. Griggs, but we can't go in, and there's an end of the
+matter.”
+
+“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 rudely
+shaken, 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's
+all there is to it.”
+
+Griggs was dismayed.
+
+“But half a million!” he exclaimed, disconsolately. “There's a stake
+worth playing for. Think of it!” He turned pleadingly to Garson. “Half a
+million, 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 wire
+more privately in the booth. The instant she was out of the room, Griggs
+turned to Garson anxiously.
+
+“It's a cinch, Joe,” he pleaded. “I've got a plan of the house.” He drew
+a paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the forger, who seized
+it 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 the
+act.
+
+“I promised Mary never to----”
+
+Griggs broke in on him.
+
+“But a chance like this! Anyhow, come around to the back room at
+Blinkey'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 Mary
+reentered.
+
+Griggs rose and spoke with an air of regret.
+
+“It's 'follow the leader,'” he said, “and since you are against it, that
+settles it.”
+
+“Yes, I'm against it,” Mary said, firmly.
+
+“I'm sorry,” English Eddie rejoined. “But we must all play the game
+as we see it.... Well, that was the business I was after, and, as it's
+finished, why, good-afternoon, Miss Turner.” He nodded toward Joe, and
+took his departure.
+
+Something of what was in his mind was revealed in Garson's first speech
+after 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 want
+any of that. We'll play a game that's safe and sure.”
+
+The words recalled to the forger weird forebodings that had been
+troubling 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 some
+rough 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 significant
+emphasis.
+
+“Just what do you mean by that?” Mary demanded, suspiciously.
+
+“For rough work,” he said, “I have this.” He took a magazine pistol from
+his pocket. It was of an odd shape, with a barrel longer than is usual
+and 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 like
+that before.”
+
+“Of course you haven't,” Garson answered with much pride. “I'm the first
+man in the business to get one, and I'll bet on it. I keep up with the
+times.” For once, he was revealing that fundamental egotism which is the
+characteristic of all his kind. “That's one of the new Maxim silencers,”
+ he continued. “With smokeless powder in the cartridges, and the silencer
+on, I can make a shot from my coat-pocket, and you wouldn't even know it
+had 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 the
+whole place down on us.”
+
+Garson chuckled.
+
+“You just watch that dinky little vase on the table across the room
+there. 'Tain't very valuable, is it?”
+
+“No,” Mary answered.
+
+In the same instant, while still her eyes were on the vase, it fell in
+a cascade of shivered glass to the table and floor. She had heard no
+sound, she saw no smoke. Perhaps, there had been a faintest clicking
+noise. She was not sure. She stared dumfounded for a few seconds, then
+turned her bewildered face toward Garson, who was grinning in high
+enjoyment.
+
+“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 only
+model, and it sure is a corker for crime.”
+
+The sinister association of ideas made Mary shudder, but she said no
+more. She would have shuddered again, if she could have guessed the
+vital part that pistol was destined to play. But she had no thought
+of 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 of
+Blinkey's, where English Eddie and Garson sat with their heads close
+together over a table.
+
+“A chance like this,” Griggs was saying, “a chance that will make a
+fortune for all of us.”
+
+“It sounds good,” Garson admitted, wistfully.
+
+“It is good,” the other declared with an oath. “Why, if this goes
+through, 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 his
+voice.
+
+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 the
+struggle against greed. After all, Mary was only a woman, despite her
+cleverness, 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 and
+one to be divided up among the others.”
+
+Garson brought his fist down on the table with a force that made the
+glasses jingle.
+
+“You're on,” he said, strongly.
+
+“Fine!” Griggs declared, and the two men shook hands. “Now, I'll
+get----”
+
+“Get nothing!” Garson interrupted. “I'll get my own men. Chicago Red is
+in 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 his
+companion, 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 the
+shadow did not lift from his face.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. A WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT.
+
+Mary dismissed Garson presently, and betook herself to her bedroom for a
+nap. The day had been a trying one, and, though her superb health could
+endure much, she felt that both prudence and comfort required that she
+should recruit her energies while there was opportunity. She was not
+in the least surprised that Dick had not yet returned, though he had
+mentioned half an hour. At the best, there were many things that might
+detain him, his father's absence from the office, difficulties in making
+arrangements for his projected honeymoon trip abroad--which would never
+occur--or the like. At the worst, there was a chance of finding his
+father promptly, and of that father as promptly taking steps to prevent
+the son from ever again seeing the woman who had so indiscreetly married
+him. Yet, somehow, Mary could not believe that her husband would yield
+to such paternal coercion. Rather, she was sure that he would prove
+loyal to her whom he loved, through every trouble. At the thought
+a certain wistfulness pervaded her, and a poignant regret that this
+particular man should have been the one chosen of fate to be entangled
+within her mesh of revenge. There throbbed in her a heart-tormenting
+realization that there were in life possibilities infinitely more
+splendid than the joy of vengeance. She would not confess the truth even
+to her inmost soul, but the truth was there, and set her a-tremble with
+vague fears. Nevertheless, because she was in perfect health, and was
+much fatigued, her introspection did not avail to keep her awake, and
+within three minutes from the time she lay down she was blissfully
+unconscious 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 Police
+Inspector, 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, dressed
+her hair a little, and went into the drawing-room, where the two men
+had been waiting for something more than a quarter of an hour--to the
+violent 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, proclaimed
+the policeman.
+
+“Yes, Inspector,” Mary replied pleasantly, as she advanced into the
+room. She gave a glance toward the other visitor, who was of a slenderer
+form, 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 time
+of 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 leisurely
+fashion that increased the indignation of the fuming Inspector. She did
+not trouble to ask her self-invited guests to sit.
+
+“To whom do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Inspector?” she remarked
+coolly. It was noticeable that she said whom and not what, as if she
+understood perfectly that the influence of some person brought him on
+this errand.
+
+“I have come to have a few quiet words with you,” the Inspector
+declared, in a mighty voice that set the globes of the chandeliers
+a-quiver. Mary disregarded him, and turned to the other man.
+
+“How do you do, Mr. Demarest?” she said, evenly. “It's four years since
+we met, and they've made you District Attorney since then. Allow me to
+congratulate 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 of
+the girl with her classically beautiful face, that was still individual
+in its charm, the slim graces of the tall, lissome form. “I should have
+remembered 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 know
+me--not at all!”
+
+The burly figure of the Inspector of Police, which had loomed motionless
+during this colloquy, now advanced a step, and the big voice boomed
+threatening. It was very rough and weighted with authority.
+
+“Young woman,” Burke said, peremptorily, “the Twentieth Century Limited
+leaves Grand Central Station at four o'clock. It arrives in Chicago at
+eight-fifty-five to-morrow morning.” He pulled a massive gold watch
+from his waistcoat pocket, glanced at it, thrust it back, and concluded
+ponderously: “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 caught
+himself quickly, and spoke with stern gravity.
+
+“Miss Turner, I think you will find that a different tone will serve you
+better.”
+
+“Oh, let her talk,” Burke interjected angrily. “She's only got a few
+minutes anyway.”
+
+Mary remained unperturbed.
+
+“Very well, then,” she said genially, “let us be comfortable during that
+little period.” She made a gesture of invitation toward chairs, which
+Burke 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 Inspector
+declared, in a voice of growing wrath.
+
+“Oh, dear, no!” Mary's assertion was made very quietly, but with an
+underlying firmness that irritated the official beyond endurance.
+
+“I say yes!” The answer was a bellow.
+
+Mary appeared distressed, not frightened. Her words were an ironic
+protest 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 gleam
+in her eyes as they met his that bade him pause.
+
+“Miss Turner, if you don't mind.” She laughed slightly. “For the
+present, 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 go
+up 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 that
+excited 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 in
+prison some time ago.”
+
+Burke winced, but he made shift to conceal his realization of the truth
+she 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 have
+money, 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 partnership
+swindle?” Burke asked, sneering. “I s'pose you didn't steal that!”
+
+“Certainly not,” was the ready reply. “The man advertised for a partner
+in a business sure to bring big and safe returns. I answered. The
+business proposed was to buy a tract of land, and subdivide it. The
+deeds to the land were all forged, and the supposed seller was
+his confederate, with whom he was to divide the money. We formed a
+partnership, with a capital of sixty thousand dollars. We paid the money
+into the bank, and then at once I drew it out. You see, he wanted to get
+my money illegally, but instead I managed to get his legally. For it was
+legal for me to draw that money--wasn't it, Mr. Demarest?”
+
+The District Attorney by an effort retained his severe expression of
+righteous disapprobation, but he admitted the truth of her contention.
+
+“Unfortunately, yes,” he said gravely. “A partner has the right to draw
+out any, or all, of the partnership funds.”
+
+“And I was a partner,” Mary said contentedly. “You, see, Inspector, you
+wrong 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 gamble
+on that!”
+
+Mary permitted herself to laugh mockingly in the face of the badgered
+official.
+
+“Thank you for telling me,” she said, graciously. “And let me say,
+incidentally, that Miss Lynch at the present moment is painlessly
+extracting ten thousand dollars from General Hastings in a perfectly
+legal manner, Inspector Burke.”
+
+“Well, anyhow,” Burke shouted, “you may stay inside the law, but
+you've got to get outside the city.” He tried to employ an elephantine
+bantering tone. “On the level, now, do you think you could get away with
+that 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 in
+the morning.”
+
+Abruptly, a change came over the woman. Hitherto, she had been cynical,
+sarcastic, laughing, careless, impudent. Now, of a sudden, she was all
+seriousness, 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 new
+indignation.
+
+“Who says it can't?” he vociferated, overflowing with anger at this
+flouting of the authority he represented.
+
+Mary opened a drawer of the desk, and took out the document obtained
+that 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 larger
+as he read. When he was at an end of the reading, he regarded the
+passive woman at the desk with a new respect.
+
+“What's this?” Burke repeated helplessly. It was not easy for him
+to interpret the legal phraseology. Mary was kind enough to make the
+document clear to him.
+
+“It's a temporary restraining order from the Supreme Court, instructing
+you to let me alone until you have legal proof that I have broken the
+law.... 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 in
+violent assertion. “But it can't be done!” he shouted.
+
+“You might ask Mr. Demarest,” Mary suggested, pleasantly, “as to whether
+or not it can be done. The gambling houses can do it, and so keep on
+breaking 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, why
+shouldn't I get one, too? You see, I have money. I can buy all the law
+I want. And there's nothing you can't do with the law, if you have money
+enough.... 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 crook
+appealing 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 remarkable
+part of it.” She threw off her serious air. “Well, gentlemen,” she
+concluded, “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 to
+get you.”
+
+The District Attorney, however, judged it advisable to use more
+persuasive methods.
+
+“Miss Turner,” he said, with an appearance of sincerity, “I'm going to
+appeal to your sense of fair play.”
+
+Mary's shining eyes met his for a long moment, and before the challenge
+in hers, his fell. He remembered then those doubts that had assailed him
+when this girl had been sentenced to prison, remembered the half-hearted
+plea 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. It
+was 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 musical
+tones. Her answer was frank--brutally frank. She had nothing to conceal.
+
+“His father sent me away for three years--three years for something I
+didn't do. Well, he's got to pay for it.”
+
+By this time, Burke, a man of superior intelligence, as one must be to
+reach such a position of authority, had come to realize that here was
+a case not to be carried through by blustering, by intimidation, by the
+rough ruses familiar to the force. Here was a woman of extraordinary
+intelligence, as well as of peculiar personal charm, who merely made
+sport of his fulminations, and showed herself essentially armed against
+anything he might do, by a court injunction, a thing unheard of until
+this moment in the case of a common crook. It dawned upon him that this
+was, indeed, not a common crook. Moreover, there had grown in him a
+certain admiration for the ingenuity and resource of this woman, though
+he retained all his rancor against one who dared thus to resist the duly
+constituted authority. So, in the end, he spoke to her frankly, without
+a 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 now
+modulated to a degree that made it almost unfamiliar to himself. “You
+can't go through with this. There's always a weak link in the chain
+somewhere. 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 the
+stalwart man, “now you really sound dangerous.”
+
+There came an interruption, alike unexpected by all. Fannie appeared at
+the door.
+
+“Mr. Edward Gilder wishes to see you, Miss Turner,” she said, with no
+appreciation of anything dynamic in the announcement. “Shall I show him
+in?”
+
+“Oh, certainly,” Mary answered, with an admirable pretense of
+indifference, while Burke glared at Demarest, and the District Attorney
+appeared ill at ease.
+
+“He shouldn't have come,” Demarest muttered, getting to his feet, in
+reply to the puzzled glance of the Inspector.
+
+Then, while Mary sat quietly in her chair at the desk, and the two men
+stood watching doubtfully the door, the maid appeared, stood aside, and
+said simply, “Mr. Gilder.”
+
+There entered the erect, heavy figure of the man whom Mary had hated
+through the years. He stopped abruptly just within the room, gave a
+glance 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 beauty
+of 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 direct
+address.
+
+And there was the same primitive simplicity in the answer. Between the
+two strong natures there was no subterfuge, no suggestion of polite
+evasions, of tergiversation, only the plea of truth to truth. Mary's
+acknowledgment was as plain as his own question.
+
+“I am the woman. What do you want?”... Thus two honest folk had met face
+to face.
+
+“My son.” The man's answer was complete.
+
+But Mary touched a tragic note in her question. It was asked in no
+frivolous spirit, but, of a sudden, she guessed that his coming
+was altogether of his own volition, and not the result of his son's
+information, 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 was
+congested, and his sonorous voice was harsh with virtuous rebuke.
+
+“Because I intend to save my boy from a great folly. I am informed that
+he is infatuated with you, and Inspector Burke tells me why--he tells
+me--why--he tells me----” He paused, unable for a moment to continue
+from an excess of emotion. But his gray eyes burned fiercely in
+accusation 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 stared
+at her pleadingly. “Tell me,” he said with a certain dignity, “is this
+true?”
+
+Here, then, was the moment for which she had longed through weary days,
+through weary years. Here was the man whom she hated, suppliant before
+her to know the truth. Her heart quickened. Truly, vengeance is sweet to
+one 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 Burke
+started to speak, but the magnate made an imperative gesture, and the
+officer held his peace. Always, Mary rested motionless. Within her, a
+fierce joy surged. Here was the time of her victory. Opposite her was
+the man who had caused her anguish, the man whose unjust action had
+ruined her life. Now, he was her humble petitioner, but this servility
+could be of no avail to save him from shame. He must drink of the dregs
+of humiliation--and then again. No price were too great to pay for a
+wrong such as that which he had put upon her.
+
+At last, Gilder was restored in a measure to his self-possession. He
+spoke with the sureness of a man of wealth, confident that money will
+salve any wound.
+
+“How much?” he asked, baldly.
+
+Mary smiled an inscrutable smile.
+
+“Oh, I don't need money,” she said, carelessly. “Inspector Burke will
+tell you how easy it is for me to get it.”
+
+Gilder looked at her with a newly dawning respect; then his shrewdness
+suggested a retort.
+
+“Do you want my son to learn what you are?” he said.
+
+Mary laughed. There was something dreadful in that burst of spurious
+amusement.
+
+“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 was
+before all else. He found himself wholly at a loss before the woman's
+unexpected reply.
+
+“But I don't want him to know,” he stammered. “Why, I've spared the boy
+all 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 his
+entrance, Mary rose and moved backward a step involuntarily, in
+sheer surprise over his coming, even though she had known he must
+come--perhaps from some other emotion, deeper, hidden as yet even from
+herself.
+
+The young man, with his wholesome face alight with tenderness, went
+swiftly to her, while the other three men stood silent, motionless,
+abashed by the event. And Dick took Mary's hand in a warm clasp, pressed
+it tenderly.
+
+“I didn't see father,” he said happily, “but I left him a note on his
+desk 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 aware
+that here was something malignant, with a meaning beyond his present
+understanding, for he saw the Inspector and Demarest, and he knew the
+two of them for what they were officially.
+
+“What are they doing here?” he demanded suspiciously, staring at the
+two.
+
+“Oh, never mind them,” Mary said. There was a malevolent gleam in her
+violet eyes. This was the recompense of which she had dreamed through
+soul-tearing ages. “Just tell your father your news, Dick.”
+
+The young man had no comprehension of the fact that he was only a pawn
+in 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 was
+triumph in her gaze. This was the vengeance for which she had longed,
+for which she had plotted, the vengeance she had at last achieved. Here
+was 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. The
+father stood there wordless, unable to find speech against this calamity
+that had befallen him.
+
+It was Burke who offered a diversion, a crude interruption after his own
+fashion.
+
+“It's a frame-up,” he roared. He glared at the young man. “Tell your
+father it ain't true. Why, do you know what she is? She's done time.” He
+paused 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 of
+the seconds.
+
+“It's a lie, Mary,” he said. “Say it's a lie!” He seized her hand
+passionately.
+
+There was no quiver in her voice as she answered. She drew her hand from
+his 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 in
+prison.”
+
+There was a silence of a minute that was like years. It was the father
+who 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 of
+defamation. 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 terrible
+instants. Then he spoke again, more beseechingly.
+
+“Say there's a mistake.”
+
+Mary preserved her poise. Yes--she must not forget! This was the hour of
+her triumph. What mattered it that the honey of it was as ashes in her
+mouth? 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 the
+revelation. He stood trembling for a moment, tottered, almost it seemed
+would have fallen, but presently steadied himself and sank supinely into
+a 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, “see
+what you've done to my boy!”
+
+Mary had held her eyes on Dick. There had been in her gaze a conflict of
+emotions, strong and baffling. Now, however, when the father spoke,
+her face grew more composed, and her eyes met his coldly. Her voice was
+level 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 the
+tragedy 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 advance
+toward him until the two stood close together, face to face. She spoke
+softly, 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 colorless
+voice.
+
+“Perhaps you remember Mary Turner, who was arrested four years ago for
+robbing your store. And perhaps you remember that she asked to speak to
+you 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 was
+innocent--yes, she swore that she was innocent. And she would have got
+off--only, you asked the judge to make an example of her.”
+
+The man to whom she spoke had gone gray a little. He began to
+understand, for he was not lacking in intelligence. Somehow, it was
+borne in on him that this woman had a grievance beyond the usual run of
+injuries.
+
+“You are that girl?” he said. It was not a question, rather an
+affirmation.
+
+Mary spoke with the dignity of long suffering--more than that, with the
+confident dignity of a vengeance long delayed, now at last achieved.
+Her words were simple enough, but they touched to the heart of the man
+accused 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 the
+bars. You owe for all that.... Well' I've begun to collect.”
+
+The man opposite her, the man of vigorous form, of strong face and
+keen eyes, stood gazing intently for long moments. In that time, he was
+learning 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 spoke
+with the violence of one sure.
+
+“It is not!”
+
+Burke shouted a warning. Demarest, more diplomatic, made a restraining
+gesture toward the police official, then started to address the young
+man soothingly.
+
+But Dick would have none of their interference.
+
+“This is my affair,” he said, and the others fell silent. He stood up
+and went to Mary, and took her two hands in his, very gently, yet very
+firmly.
+
+“Mary,” he said softly, yet with a strength of conviction, “you married
+me 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 hers
+searchingly.
+
+“Look me in the face, and say that,” he repeated.
+
+There was a silence that seemed long, though it was measured in the
+passing of seconds. The three watchers dared not interrupt this drama
+of emotions, but, at last, Mary, who had planned so long for this hour,
+gathered her forces and spoke valiantly. Her voice was low, but without
+any 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 my
+wife, 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 now
+on you'll go straight. You'll walk the straightest line a woman ever
+walked. You'll put all thoughts of vengeance out of your heart, because
+I'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, and
+have 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 goes
+on there behind those stone walls? Do you, Mr. District Attorney, whose
+business it is to send girls there? Do you know what a girl is expected
+to do, to get time off for good behavior? If you don't, ask the
+keepers.”
+
+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, whole
+years. Do you wonder that I want to get even, that some one has got to
+pay? 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 the
+night and day that followed the scene in Mary Turner's apartment, when
+she had made known the accomplishment of her revenge on the older man
+by her ensnaring of the younger. Dick had followed the others out of
+her presence at her command, emphasized by her leaving him alone when
+he would have pleaded further with her. Since then, he had striven to
+obtain another interview with his bride, but she had refused him. He was
+denied admission to the apartment. Only the maid answered the ringing of
+the telephone, and his notes were seemingly unheeded. Distraught by this
+violent interjection of torment into a life that hitherto had known no
+important suffering, Dick Gilder showed what mettle of man lay beneath
+his debonair appearance. And that mettle was of a kind worth while. In
+these hours of grief, the soul of him put out its strength. He learned
+beyond peradventure of doubt that the woman whom he had married was
+in truth an ex-convict, even as Burke and Demarest had declared.
+Nevertheless, he did not for an instant believe that she was guilty of
+the crime with which she had been originally charged and for which she
+had served a sentence in prison. For the rest, he could understand in
+some degree how the venom of the wrong inflicted on her had poisoned her
+nature through the years, till she had worked out its evil through the
+scheme of which he was the innocent victim. He cared little for the
+fact that recently she had devoted herself to devious devices for making
+money, to ingenious schemes for legal plunder. In his summing of her,
+he set as more than an offset to her unrighteousness in this regard the
+desperate struggle she had made after leaving prison to keep straight,
+which, as he learned, had ended in her attempt at suicide. He knew
+the intelligence of this woman whom he loved, and in his heart was
+no thought of her faults as vital flaws. It seemed to him rather that
+circumstances had compelled her, and that through all the suffering
+of her life she had retained the more beautiful qualities of her
+womanliness, for which he reverenced her. In the closeness of their
+association, short as it had been, he had learned to know something
+of the tenderer depths within her, the kindliness of her, the
+wholesomeness. Swayed as he was by the loveliness of her, he was yet
+more enthralled by those inner qualities of which the outer beauty was
+only the fitting symbol.
+
+So, in the face of this catastrophe, where a less love must have been
+destroyed utterly, Dick remained loyal. His passionate regard did not
+falter for a moment. It never even occurred to him that he might cast
+her off, might yield to his father's prayers, and abandon her. On the
+contrary, his only purpose was to gain her for himself, to cherish and
+guard her against every ill, to protect with his love from every attack
+of shame or injury. He would not believe that the girl did not care
+for him. Whatever had been her first purpose of using him only as an
+instrument through which to strike against his father, whatever might
+be her present plan of eliminating him from her life in the future, he
+still was sure that she had grown to know a real and lasting affection
+for himself. He remembered startled glances from the violet eyes, caught
+unawares, and the music of her voice in rare instants, and these told
+him that love for him stirred, even though it might as yet be but
+faintly, in her heart.
+
+Out of that fact, he drew an immediate comfort in this period of his
+misery. Nevertheless, his anguish was a racking one. He grew older
+visibly in the night and the day. There crept suddenly lines of new
+feeling into his face, and, too, lines of new strength. The boy died in
+that time; the man was born, came forth in the full of his steadfastness
+and his courage, and his love.
+
+The father suffered with the son. He was a proud man, intensely
+gratified over the commanding position to which he had achieved in the
+commercial world, proud of his business integrity, of his standing in
+the community as a leader, proud of his social position, proud most of
+all of the son whom he so loved. Now, this hideous disaster threatened
+his pride at every turn--worse, it threatened the one person in the
+world whom he really loved. Most fathers would have stormed at the boy
+when pleading failed, would have given commands with harshness, would
+have menaced the recalcitrant with disinheritance. Edward Gilder did
+none of these things, though his heart was sorely wounded. He loved
+his son too much to contemplate making more evil for the lad by any
+estrangement between them. Yet he felt that the matter could not safely
+be left in the hands of Dick himself. He realized that his son loved
+the woman--nor could he wonder much at that. His keen eyes had
+perceived Mary Turner's graces of form, her loveliness of face. He had
+apprehended, too, in some measure at least, the fineness of her mental
+fiber and the capacities of her heart. Deep within him, denied any
+outlet, he knew there lurked a curious, subtle sympathy for the girl in
+her scheme of revenge against himself. Her persistent striving toward
+the object of her ambition was something he could understand, since the
+like thing in different guise had been back of his own business success.
+He would not let the idea rise to the surface of consciousness, for
+he still refused to believe that Mary Turner had suffered at his hand
+unjustly. 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 the
+purpose 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 had
+been the guest of honor that night at an important meeting of the Civic
+Committee, and he had spoken with his usual clarity and earnestness in
+spite of the trouble that beset him. Now, however, the regeneration of
+the city was far from his thought, and his sole concern was with the
+regeneration of a life, that of his son, which bade fair to be ruined by
+the wiles of a wicked woman. He was anxious for the coming of Dick, to
+whom he would make one more appeal. If that should fail--well, he must
+use the influences at his command to secure the forcible parting of the
+adventuress from his son.
+
+The room in which he paced to and fro was of a solid dignity, well
+fitted to serve as an environment for its owner. It was very large, and
+lofty. There was massiveness in the desk that stood opposite the hall
+door, near a window. This particular window itself was huge, high,
+jutting in octagonal, with leaded panes. In addition, there was a great
+fireplace set with tiles, around which was woodwork elaborately carved,
+the fruit of patient questing abroad. On the walls were hung some pieces
+of tapestry, where there were not bookcases. Over the octagonal window,
+too, such draperies fell in stately lines. Now, as the magnate paced
+back and forth, there was only a gentle light in the room, from a
+reading-lamp on his desk. The huge chandelier was unlighted.... It was
+even as Gilder, in an increasing irritation over the delay, had thrown
+himself 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 an
+ejaculation of satisfaction.
+
+“Dick, at last!” he muttered.
+
+It was, in truth, the son. A moment later, he entered the room, and went
+at 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 great
+affection in the flash of his gray eyes as he scanned the young man's
+face, and the touch of the hand that he put on Dick's shoulder was very
+tender. “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 with
+a 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 this
+affair was of supreme import to himself, it was, after all, of still
+greater significance to his son. To himself, the chief concerns were
+of the worldly kind. To this boy, the vital thing was something deeper,
+something of the heart: for, however absurd his feeling, the truth
+remained that he loved the woman. Yes, it was the son's name that Mary
+Turner 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, after
+all, more affected. He must suffer more, must lose more, must pay more
+with happiness for his folly.
+
+Gilder looked at his son with a strange, new respect, but he could not
+let the situation go without protest, protest of the most vehement.
+
+“Dick,” he cried, and his big voice was shaken a little by the force
+of his emotion; “boy, you are all I have in the world. You will have
+to free yourself from this woman somehow.” He stood very erect, staring
+steadfastly out of his clear gray eyes into those of his son. His heavy
+face was rigid with feeling; the coarse mouth bent slightly in a smile
+of 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, and
+affection, but there was something else, too, something the older man
+recognized as beyond his control. He spoke gravely, with a deliberate
+conviction.
+
+“I owe something to her, too, Dad.”
+
+But Gilder would not let the statement go unchallenged. His heavy voice
+rang out rebukingly, overtoned with protest.
+
+“What can you owe her?” he demanded indignantly. “She tricked you into
+the marriage. Why, legally, it's not even that. There's been nothing
+more than a wedding ceremony. The courts hold that that is only a part
+of the marriage actually. The fact that she doesn't receive you makes it
+simpler, 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 his
+son's answer, given very gently, yet with a note of finality that to the
+father'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 issue
+a matter not of advice, but of the heart.
+
+Gilder persisted, however, in trying to evade the integral fact of his
+son's feeling. Still he tried to fix the issue on the known unsavory
+reputation 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; he
+respected her, even reverenced her. To hear her thus named moved him to
+a rage almost beyond his control. But he mastered himself. He remembered
+that the man who spoke loved him; he remembered, too, that the word of
+opprobrium was no more than the truth, however offensive it might be
+to his sensitiveness. He waited a moment until he could hold his voice
+even. Then his words were the sternest protest that could have been
+uttered, though they came from no exercise of thought, only out of the
+deeps of his heart.
+
+“I'm very fond of her.”
+
+That was all. But the simple sincerity of the saying griped the father's
+mood, as no argument could have done. There was a little silence. After
+all, 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 man
+spoke 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 world
+owes 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 was
+ominous. “I suppose next you will argue that, because she's been clever
+enough 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 the
+law touches it in the particular case, or whether it doesn't.”
+
+Gilder faced his son sternly for a moment, and then presently spoke
+again with deeper earnestness.
+
+“There's only one course open to you, my boy. You must give this girl
+up.”
+
+The son met his father's gaze with a level look in which there was no
+weakness.
+
+“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 to
+do the day your wife is thrown into a patrol wagon and carried to Police
+Headquarters--for it's sure to happen? The cleverest of people make
+mistakes, and some day she'll make one.”
+
+Dick threw out his hands in a gesture of supreme denial. He was furious
+at 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 with
+masks on their faces. Her picture, of course, is already in the Rogues'
+Gallery, but they will take another. Yes, and the imprints of her
+fingers, and the measurements of her body.”
+
+The son was writhing under the words. The woman of whom these things
+were said was the woman whom he loved. It was blasphemy to think of
+her in such case, subjected to the degradation of these processes. Yet,
+every word had in it the piercing, horrible sting of truth. His face
+whitened. He raised a supplicating hand.
+
+“Father!”
+
+“That's what they will do to your wife,” Gilder went on harshly; “to the
+woman who bears your name and mine.” There was a little pause, and the
+father stood rigid, menacing. The final question came rasping. “What are
+you going to do about it?”
+
+Dick went forward until he was close to his father. Then he spoke with
+profound conviction.
+
+“It will never happen. She will go straight, Dad. That I know. You would
+know it if you only knew her as I do.”
+
+Gilder once again put his hand tenderly on his son's shoulder. His voice
+was 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, his
+eyes 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 hundred
+ways. She loves the trees and the grass and the flowers--and everything
+that's simple and real! And as for her heart--” His voice was low and
+very tender: “Why, her heart is the biggest I've ever known. It's just
+overflowing with sweetness and kindness. I've seen her pick up a baby
+that had fallen in the street, and mother it in a way that--well, no one
+could 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 the
+feeling, and spoke with a sneer.
+
+“You heard what she said yesterday, and you still are such a fool as to
+think that.”
+
+The answer of the son came with an immutable finality, the sublime faith
+of love.
+
+“I don't think--I know!”
+
+Gilder was in despair. What argument could avail him? He cried out
+sharply in desperation.
+
+“Do you realize what you're doing? Don't go to smash, Dick, just at the
+beginning of your life. Oh, I beg you, boy, stop! Put this girl out of
+your 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 honesty
+because the heart so commanded. The son rested motionless and looked
+with unflinching eyes into his father's face. In the gaze of each was a
+great affection.
+
+“You're all I have, my boy,” the older man said at last. And now the big
+voice was a mildest whisper of love.
+
+“Yes, Dad,” came the answer--another whisper, since it is hard to voice
+the truth of feeling such as this. “If I could avoid it, I wouldn't hurt
+you for anything in the world. I'm sorry, Dad, awfully sorry----” He
+hesitated, then his voice rang out clearly. There was in his tone, when
+he spoke again, a recognition of that loneliness which is the curse and
+the crown of being:
+
+“But,” he ended, “I must fight this out by myself--fight it out in my
+own 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 his
+desk.
+
+“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 held
+out the tray insistently.
+
+The master took the card grudgingly. As his eyes caught the name, his
+expression changed slightly.
+
+“Very well,” he said, “show him up.” His glance met the wondering gaze
+of 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 was
+something 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 that
+had developed. He was a man of undoubted ability, and he took a keen
+professional pride in his work. He possessed the faults of his class,
+was not too scrupulous where he saw a safe opportunity to make a snug
+sum of money through the employment of his official authority, was ready
+to buckle to those whose influence could help or hinder his ambition.
+But, in spite of these ordinary defects, he was fond of his work and
+wishful to excel in it. Thus, Mary Turner had come to be a thorn in his
+side. She flouted his authority and sustained her incredible effrontery
+by 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 involved
+Dick Gilder within her toils made him the more anxious to overcome her
+in the strife of resources between them. After much studying, he had
+at last planned something that, while it would not directly touch
+Mary herself, would at least serve to intimidate her, and as well make
+further action easier against her. It was in pursuit of this scheme
+that he now came to Gilder's house, and the presence of the young man
+abruptly gave him another idea that might benefit him well. So, he
+disregarded 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 his
+voice as he replied:
+
+“I don't believe it.”
+
+The Inspector smiled, unperturbed.
+
+“She left this morning for Chicago,” he said, lying with a manner that
+long habit rendered altogether convincing. “I told you she'd go.” He
+turned 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'll
+be all right.”
+
+“If we only could!” The cry came with deepest earnestness from the lips
+of Gilder, but there was little hope in his voice.
+
+The Inspector, however, was confident of success, and his tones rang
+cheerfully as he answered:
+
+“I guess we can find a way to have the marriage annulled, or whatever
+they do to marriages that don't take.”
+
+The brutal assurance of the man in thus referring to things that were
+sacred, moved Dick to wrath.
+
+“Don't you interfere,” he said. His words were spoken softly, but
+tensely.
+
+Nevertheless, Burke held to the topic, but an indefinable change in his
+manner rendered it less offensive to the young man.
+
+“Interfere! Huh!” he ejaculated, grinning broadly. “Why, that's what
+I'm paid to do. Listen to me, son. The minute you begin mixing up with
+crooks, you ain't in a position to give orders to any one. The crooks
+have got no rights in the eyes of the police. Just remember that.”
+
+The Inspector spoke the simple truth as he knew it from years of
+experience. The theory of the law is that a presumption of innocence
+exists until the accused is proven guilty. But the police are out of
+sympathy with such finical methods. With them, the crook is presumed
+guilty at the outset of whatever may be charged against him. If need
+be, there will be proof a-plenty against him--of the sort that the
+underworld knows to its sorrow.
+
+But Dick was not listening. His thoughts were again wholly with the
+woman 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 kindliness
+that was not without its effect on Dick.
+
+“I'm no mind-reader,” he said. “But she's a swell little girl, all
+right. I've got to hand it to her for that. So, she'll probably stop at
+the Blackstone--that is, until the Chicago police are tipped off that
+she is in town.”
+
+Of a sudden, the face of the young man took on a totally different
+expression. Where before had been anger, now was a vivid eagerness. He
+went close to the Inspector, and spoke with intense seriousness.
+
+“Burke,” he said, pleadingly, “give me a chance. I'll leave for Chicago
+in the morning. Give me twenty-four hours start before you begin
+hounding her.”
+
+The Inspector regarded the speaker searchingly. His heavy face was
+drawn in an expression of apparent doubt. Abruptly, then, he smiled
+acquiescence.
+
+“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 the
+boy'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 two
+hurriedly, 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 Dick
+could not hear.
+
+“Keep still,” he replied. “It's all right.”
+
+Dick went on speaking with a seriousness suited to the magnitude of his
+interests.
+
+“You give me your word, Inspector,” he said, “that you won't notify the
+police in Chicago until I've been there twenty-four hours?”
+
+“You're on,” Burke replied genially. “They won't get a whisper out of me
+until the time is up.” He swung about to face the father, and there
+was a complete change in his manner. “Now, then, Mr. Gilder,” he said
+briskly, “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 can
+do.” He watched keenly as the young man went out of the room. It was not
+until the door was closed after Dick that he spoke. Then he dropped to a
+seat 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 weaker
+member.
+
+“Best thing that could have happened!” he vociferated. And then, as
+Gilder regarded him in astonishment, he added, chuckling: “You see, he
+won't find her there.”
+
+“Why do you think that?” Gilder demanded, greatly puzzled.
+
+Burke permitted himself the luxury of laughing appreciatively a moment
+more 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 pleased
+with his own ingenuity.
+
+“Nowhere yet,” he said at last. “But, just about the time he's starting
+for the West I'll have her down at Headquarters. Demarest will have
+her indicted before noon. She'll go for trial in the afternoon. And
+to-morrow night she'll be sleeping up the river.... That's where she is
+going.”
+
+Gilder stood motionless for a moment. After all, he was an ordinary
+citizen, quite unfamiliar with the recondite methods familiar to the
+police.
+
+“But,” he said, wonderingly, “you can't do that.”
+
+The Inspector laughed, a laugh of disingenuous amusement, for he
+understood perfectly the lack of comprehension on the part of his
+hearer.
+
+“Well,” he said, and his voice sank into a modest rumble that was
+none the less still thunderous. “Perhaps I can't!” And then he beamed
+broadly, his whole face smiling blandly on the man who doubted his
+power. “Perhaps I can't,” he repeated. Then the chuckle came again, and
+he added emphatically: “But I will!” Suddenly, his heavy face grew hard.
+His alert eyes shone fiercely, with a flash of fire that was known
+to every patrolman who had ever reported to the desk when he was
+lieutenant. 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 break
+into 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 to
+try to pull off something right here. She wouldn't come, not if I
+know her. She's too clever for that. Why, if she knew what Garson was
+planning to do, she'd stop him.”
+
+The Inspector paused suddenly. For a long minute his face was seamed
+with thought. Then, he smote his thigh with a blow strong enough to kill
+an ox. His face was radiant.
+
+“By God! I've got her!” he cried. The inspiration for which he had
+longed was his at last. He went to the desk where the telephone was, and
+took up the receiver.
+
+“Give me 3100 Spring,” he said. As he waited for the connection he
+smiled widely on the astonished Gilder. “'Tain't too late,” he said
+joyously. “I must have been losing my mind not to have thought of it
+before.” The impact of sounds on his ear from the receiver set him to
+attention.
+
+“Headquarters?” he called. “Inspector Burke speaking. Who's in my
+office? I want him quick.” He smiled as he listened, and he spoke again
+to Gilder. “It's Smith, the best man I have. That's luck, if you ask
+me.” 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 going
+to break into Edward Gilder's house to-night. Get some stool-pigeon
+to 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 so
+avariciously, and glanced at it, then went on speaking:
+
+“It's ten-thirty now. She went to the Lyric Theater with some woman. Get
+her as she leaves, or find her back at her own place later. You'll have
+to hustle, anyhow. That's all!”
+
+The Inspector hung up the receiver and faced his host with a contented
+smile.
+
+“What good will all that do?” Gilder demanded, impatiently.
+
+Burke explained with a satisfaction natural to one who had devised
+something ingenious and adequate. This inspiration filled him with
+delight. At last he was sure of catching Mary Turner herself in his
+toils.
+
+“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 a
+real bit of forgery worth while done in this country for the last twenty
+years, that Garson hasn't been mixed up in. We've never once got him
+right in all that time.” The Inspector paused to chuckle. “Crooks are
+funny,” he explained with obvious contentment. “Clever as he is, Garson
+let Griggs talk him into a second-story job, and now we'll get him with
+the 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 that
+rested 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 with
+a smile over the policeman's perturbation. “It swings around this way
+about every fifteen minutes. The servant forgot to draw the curtains.”
+ As he spoke, he went to the window, and pulled the heavy draperies
+close. “It won't bother us again.”
+
+The entrance of the butler brought the Inspector's thoughts back to the
+matter in hand.
+
+“My man,” he said, authoritatively, “I want you to go up to the roof and
+open the scuttle. You'll find some men waiting up there. Bring 'em down
+here.”
+
+The servant's usually impassive face showed astonishment, not unmixed
+with dismay, and he looked doubtfully toward his master, who nodded
+reassuringly.
+
+“Oh, they won't hurt you,” the Inspector declared, as he noticed the
+man's hesitation. “They're police officers. You get 'em down here, and
+then you go to bed and stay there till morning. Understand?”
+
+Again, the butler looked at his master for guidance in this very
+peculiar affair, as he deemed it. Receiving another nod, he said:
+
+“Very well, sir.” He regarded the Inspector with a certain helpless
+indignation over this disturbance of the natural order, and left the
+room.
+
+Gilder himself was puzzled over the situation, which was by no means
+clear to him.
+
+“How do you know they're going to break into the house to-night?” he
+demanded of Burke; “or do you only think they're going to break into the
+house?”
+
+“I know they are.” The Inspector's harsh voice brought out the words
+boastfully. “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 anything
+to do with that sort of person?”
+
+“Because it's good business,” the Inspector replied. “We know he's a spy
+and a traitor, and that every time he comes near us we ought to use a
+disinfectant. 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 went
+to Garson yesterday with a scheme to rob your house. He tried out Mary
+Turner, 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, and
+then he agreed to pull it off. Griggs got word to me that it's coming
+off to-night. And so, you see, Mr. Gilder, that's how I know. Do you get
+me?”
+
+“I see,” Gilder admitted without any enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, he
+felt somewhat offended that his house should be thus summarily seized as
+a trap for criminals.
+
+“But why do you have your men come down over the roof?” he inquired
+curiously.
+
+“It wasn't safe to bring them in the front way,” was the Inspector's
+prompt reply. “It's a cinch the house is being watched. I wish you would
+let me have your latch-key. I want to come back, and make this collar
+myself.”
+
+The owner of the house obediently took the desired key from his ring and
+gave 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? There
+wouldn't be anything doing until after they see me go out again.”
+
+The hall door opened and the butler reentered the room. Behind him came
+Cassidy and two other detectives in plain clothes. At a word from his
+master, the disturbed Thomas withdrew with the intention of obeying
+the Inspector's directions that he should retire to bed and stay there,
+carefully avoiding whatever possibilities of peril there might be in the
+situation 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 a
+store-room at the end of the passage on the ground floor, on which one
+of the library doors opened.
+
+“You see,” Burke explained to Gilder, when this matter had been settled
+to his satisfaction, and while Cassidy and the other detectives were
+out 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 these
+men come to Number Twenty-six on the other street, then round the block
+on the roofs.”
+
+Gilder nodded appreciation which was not actually sincere. It seemed to
+him that such elaborate manoeuvering was, in truth, rather absurd.
+
+“And now, Mr. Gilder,” the Inspector said energetically, “I'm going to
+give 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 of
+importance 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 get
+in touch with you in the morning and let you know then how things are
+coming out.”
+
+Gilder sighed resignedly. His heavy face was lined with anxiety. There
+was a hesitation in his manner of speech that was wholly unlike its
+usual quick decisiveness.
+
+“I don't like this sort of thing,” he said, doubtfully. “I let you go
+ahead 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 with
+excellent results without the element of treachery which seems to
+involve 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 said
+cheerfully. “It's the easiest and quickest way out of the trouble for
+us, and the easiest and quickest way into trouble for them.”
+
+The return of the detectives caused him to break off, and he gave his
+attention to the final arrangements of his men.
+
+“You're in charge here,” he said to Cassidy, “and I hold you
+responsible. Now, listen to this, and get it.” His coarse voice came
+with a grating note of command. “I'm coming back to get this bunch
+myself, and I'll call you when you're wanted. You'll wait in the
+store-room out there and don't make a move till you hear from me, unless
+by any chance things go wrong and you get a call from Griggs. You know
+who he is. He's got a whistle, and he'll use it if necessary.... Got
+that straight?” And, when Cassidy had declared an entire understanding
+of 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 little
+longer. 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 the
+Turner woman time to get here while that gang is at work. Your keeping
+on the lights will hold them back, for they won't come in till the house
+is dark, so, in half an hour you can get off the job, switch off the
+lights and go to bed and stay there--just as I told you before.” Then
+Inspector Burke, having in mind the great distress of the man over the
+unfortunate entanglement of his son, was at pains to offer a reassuring
+word.
+
+“Don't worry about the boy,” he said, with grave kindliness. “We'll get
+him out of this scrape all right.” And with the assertion he bustled
+out, 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 was
+elapsed. He fidgeted from place to place, his mind heavy with distress
+under the shadow that threatened to blight the life of his cherished
+son. Finally, with a sense of relief he put out the lights and went to
+his chamber. But he did not follow the further directions given him, for
+he was not minded to go to bed. Instead, he drew the curtains closely
+to make sure that no gleam of light could pass them, and then sat with a
+cigar between his lips, which he did not smoke, though from time to time
+he was at pains to light it. His thoughts were most with his son, and
+ever as he thought of Dick, his fury waxed against the woman who had
+enmeshed the boy in her plotting for vengeance on himself. And into his
+thoughts now crept a doubt, one that alarmed his sense of justice. It
+occurred to him that this woman could not have thus nourished a plan for
+retribution through the years unless, indeed, she had been insane, even
+as he had claimed--or innocent! The idea was appalling. He could not
+bear to admit the possibility of having been the involuntary inflicter
+of such wrong as to send the girl to prison for an offense she had not
+committed. He rejected the suggestion, but it persisted. He knew the
+clean, wholesome nature of his son. It seemed to him incredible that
+the boy could have thus given his heart to one altogether undeserving.
+A horrible suspicion that he had misjudged Mary Turner crept into his
+brain, 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 the
+things Burke had said. The woman was a crook, and there was an end
+of it. Her ruse of spoliation within the law was evidence of her
+shrewdness, nothing more.
+
+Mary Turner herself, too, was in a condition utterly wretched, and for
+the same cause--Dick Gilder. That source of the father's suffering was
+hers as well. She had won her ambition of years, revenge on the man who
+had sent her to prison. And now the joy of it was a torture, for the
+puppet of her plans, the son, had suddenly become the chief thing in her
+life. She had taken it for granted that he would leave her after he came
+to know that her marriage to him was only a device to bring shame on
+his father. Instead, he loved her. That fact seemed the secret of her
+distress. He loved her. More, he dared believe, and to assert boldly,
+that she loved him. Had he acted otherwise, the matter would have been
+simple enough.... But he loved her, loved her still, though he knew the
+shame that had clouded her life, knew the motive that had led her to
+accept him as a husband. More--by a sublime audacity, he declared that
+she loved him.
+
+There came a thrill in her heart each time she thought of that--that
+she 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. She
+strove her mightiest to rid herself of them, but in vain. Ever they
+persisted. She sought to oust them by thinking of any one else, of
+Aggie, of Joe. There at last was satisfaction. Her interference between
+the man who had saved her life and the temptation of the English crook
+had prevented a dangerous venture, which might have meant ruin to the
+one 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 ordinary
+burglary.
+
+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 a
+messenger who waited for no answer, as he told the yawning maid. As Mary
+read 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. Even
+now, he was engaged in committing that crime which she had forbidden
+him. As he had saved her, so she must save him. She hurried into the
+gown she had just put off. Then she went to the telephone-book and
+searched for the number of Gilder's house.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was just a few moments before Mary Turner received the note from the
+hands of the sleepy maid that one of the leaves of the octagonal window
+in the library of Richard Gilder's town house swung open, under the
+persuasive influence of a thin rod of steel, cunningly used, and Joe
+Garson stepped confidently into the dark room.
+
+A faint radiance of moonlight from without showed him for a second as he
+passed between the heavy draperies. Then these fell into place, and he
+was invisible, and soundless as well. For a space, he rested motionless,
+listening intently. Reassured, he drew out an electric torch and set it
+glowing. A little disc of light touched here and there about the room,
+traveling very swiftly, and in methodical circles. Satisfied by the
+survey, Garson crossed to the hall door. He moved with alert assurance,
+lithely balanced on the balls of his feet, noiselessly. At the hall door
+he listened for any sound of life without, and found none. The door into
+the passage that led to the store-room where the detectives waited next
+engaged his business-like attention. And here, again, there was naught
+to provoke his suspicion.
+
+These preliminaries taken as measures of precaution, Garson went boldly
+to the small table that stood behind the couch, turned the button,
+and the soft glow of an electric lamp illumined the apartment. The
+extinguished torch was thrust back into his pocket. Afterward he carried
+one of the heavy chairs to the door of the passage and propped it
+against the panel in such wise that its fall must give warning as to the
+opening of the door. His every action was performed with the maximum of
+speed, with no least trace of flurry or of nervous haste. It was evident
+that he followed a definite program, the fruit of precise thought guided
+by experience.
+
+It seemed to him that now everything was in readiness for the coming of
+his associates in the commission of the crime. There remained only to
+give them the signal in the room around the corner where they waited at
+a telephone. He seated himself in Gilder's chair at the desk, and drew
+the telephone to him.
+
+“Give me 999 Bryant,” he said. His tone was hardly louder than a
+whisper, but spoken with great distinctness.
+
+There was a little wait. Then an answer in a voice he knew came over the
+wire.
+
+But Garson said nothing more. Instead, he picked up a penholder from
+the tray on the desk, and began tapping lightly on the rim of the
+transmitter. It was a code message in Morse. In the room around the
+corner, the tapping sounded clearly, ticking out the message that the
+way was free for the thieves' coming.
+
+When Garson had made an end of the telegraphing, there came a brief
+answer in like Morse, to which he returned a short direction.
+
+For a final safeguard, Garson searched for and found the telephone
+bell-box on the surbase below the octagonal window. It was the work of
+only 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 then
+took his pistol from his hip-pocket, examined it to make sure that
+the silencer was properly adjusted, and then thrust it into the right
+side-pocket of his coat, ready for instant use in desperate emergency.
+Once again, now, he produced the electric torch, and lighted it as he
+extinguished 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 skilled
+fingers, and one of them swung wide. He had put out the torch now, lest
+its gleam might catch the gaze of some casual passer-by. So nicely had
+the affair been timed that hardly was the door open before the three
+men slipped in, and stood mute and motionless in the hall, while Garson
+refastened the doors. Then, a pencil of light traced the length of the
+hallway and Garson walked quickly back to the library. Behind him with
+steps as noiseless as his own came the three men to whom he had just
+given 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 its
+radiant light on the group.
+
+Griggs was in evening clothes, seeming a very elegant young gentleman
+indeed, but his two companions were of grosser type, as far as
+appearances went: one, Dacey, thin and wiry, with a ferret face; the
+other, Chicago Red, a brawny ruffian, whose stolid features nevertheless
+exhibited something of half-sullen good nature.
+
+“Everything all right so far,” Garson said rapidly. He turned to Griggs
+and pointed toward the heavy hangings that shrouded the octagonal
+window. “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 of
+fierceness now.
+
+But, before he could add a direction, he was halted by a soft buzzing
+from the telephone, which, though bell-less, still gave this faint
+warning of a call. For an instant, he hesitated while the others
+regarded him doubtfully. The situation offered perplexities. To give no
+attention to the summons might be perilous, and failure to respond might
+provoke investigation in some urgent matter; to answer it might easily
+provide a larger danger.
+
+“We've got to take a chance.” Garson spoke his decision curtly. He went
+to the desk and put the receiver to his ear.
+
+There came again the faint tapping of some one at the other end of the
+line, signaling a message in the Morse code. An expression of blank
+amazement, which grew in a flash to deep concern, showed on Garson's
+face as he listened tensely.
+
+“Why, this is Mary calling,” he muttered.
+
+“Mary!” Griggs cried. His usual vacuity of expression was cast off like
+a mask and alarm twisted his features. Then, in the next instant, a
+crafty triumph gleamed from his eyes.
+
+“Yes, she's on,” Garson interpreted, a moment later, as the tapping
+ceased for a little. He translated in a loud whisper as the irregular
+ticking noise sounded again.
+
+“I shall be there at the house almost at once. I am sending this message
+from the drug store around the corner. Have some one open the door for
+me 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 that
+it was so.
+
+“What's she coming here for?” Garson exclaimed harshly. “This ain't no
+place 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 a
+small torch from the skirt-pocket of his coat and crossed to the hall
+door, as Garson nodded assent.
+
+“God! Why did she have to come?” Garson muttered, filled with
+forebodings. “If anything should go wrong now!”
+
+He turned back toward the door just as it opened, and Mary darted into
+the room with Griggs following. “What do you want here?” he demanded,
+with peremptory savageness in his voice, which was a tone he had never
+hitherto used in addressing her.
+
+Mary went swiftly to face Garson where he stood by the desk, while
+Griggs joined the other two men who stood shuffling about uneasily by
+the fireplace, at a loss over this intrusion on their scheme. Mary moved
+with a lissome grace like that of some wild creature, but as she halted
+opposite the man who had given her back the life she would have thrown
+away, there was only tender pleading in her voice, though her words were
+an arraignment.
+
+“Joe, you lied to me.”
+
+“That can be settled later,” the man snapped. His jaw was thrust forward
+obstinately, and his clear eyes sparkled defiantly.
+
+“You are fools, all of you!” Mary cried. Her eyes darkened and distended
+with fear. They darted from Garson to the other three men, and back
+again in rebuke. “Yes, fools! This is burglary. I can't protect you if
+you are caught. How can I? Oh, come!” She held out her hands pleadingly
+toward Garson, and her voice dropped to beseeching. “Joe, Joe, you must
+get 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 in
+the stubborn lines of his face. “We're here now, and we'll stay till the
+business is done.”
+
+Mary went a step forward. The cloak she was wearing was thrown back by
+her gesture of appeal so that those watching saw the snowy slope of the
+shoulders and the quick rise and fall of the gently curving bosom. The
+beautiful face within the framing scarf was colorless with a great fear,
+save only the crimson lips, of which the bow was bent tremulously as she
+spoke her prayer.
+
+“Joe, for my sake!”
+
+But the man was inexorable. He had set himself to this thing, and even
+the urging of the one person in the world for whom he most cared was
+powerless against his resolve.
+
+“I can't quit now until we've got what we came here after,” he declared
+roughly.
+
+Of a sudden, the girl made shift to employ another sort of supplication.
+
+“But there are reasons,” she said, faltering. A certain embarrassment
+swept her, and the ivory of her cheeks bloomed rosily. “I--I can't have
+you rob this house, this particular house of all the world.” Her eyes
+leaped from the still obdurate face of the forger to the group of three
+back of him. Her voice was shaken with a great dread as she called out
+to them.
+
+“Boys, let's get away! Please, oh, please! Joe, for God's sake!” Her
+tone 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 her
+efforts to combat his will. She seemed to droop visibly before their
+eyes. Her head sank on her breast. Her voice was husky as she tried to
+speak.
+
+“Then----” She broke off with a gesture of despair, and turned away
+toward 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 other
+searchingly as if learning new and strange things, each of the other. In
+the girl's expression was an outraged wonder and a great terror. In the
+man's was a half-shamed pride, as if he exulted in the strength with
+which he had been able to maintain his will against her supreme effort
+to 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 think
+I'd tell?”
+
+There came an abrupt change in the hard face of the man. Into the
+piercing eyes flamed a softer fire of tenderness. The firm mouth grew
+strangely 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 life
+first.”
+
+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 a
+minute, and you'll come with us.” He turned to the men and spoke with
+swift authority.
+
+“Come,” he said to Dacey, “you get to the light switch there by the hall
+door. If you hear me snap my fingers, turn 'em off. Understand?”
+
+With instant obedience, the man addressed went to his station by the
+hall door, and stood ready to control the electric current.
+
+The distracted girl essayed one last plea. The momentary softening of
+Garson had given her new courage.
+
+“Joe, don't do this.”
+
+“You can't stop it now, Mary,” came the brisk retort. “Too late. You're
+only 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 that
+gave on the passageway against which he had set the chair tilted. As the
+man obeyed, Garson gave further instructions.
+
+“If any one comes in that way, get him and get him quick. You
+understand? Don't let him cry out.”
+
+Chicago Red grinned with cheerful acceptance of the issue in such an
+encounter. He held up his huge hand, widely open.
+
+“Not a chance,” he declared, proudly, “with that over his mug.” To avoid
+possible interruption of his movements in an emergency, he removed the
+chair 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 the
+bitterness 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'm
+doing 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 can
+stand on it.” The two men bent to the task, heedless of Mary's frantic
+protest.
+
+“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 of
+the others and held them in moveless silence.
+
+“I hear something,” he whispered. He went to the keyhole of the door
+leading into the passage. Then he whispered again, “And it's coming this
+way.”
+
+At the words, Garson snapped his fingers. The room was plunged in
+darkness.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. THE NOISELESS DEATH.
+
+There was absolute silence in the library after the turning of the
+switch that brought the pall of darkness. Long seconds passed, then a
+little noise--the knob of the passage door turning. As the door swung
+open, there came a gasping breath from Mary, for she saw framed in the
+faint light that came from the single burner in the corridor the slender
+form of her husband, Dick Gilder. In the next instant he had stepped
+within the room and pulled to the door behind him. And in that same
+instant Chicago Red had pounced on his victim, the huge hand clapped
+tight over the young man's mouth. Even as his powerful arm held the
+newcomer in an inescapable embrace, there came a sound of scuffling feet
+and 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 fell
+swiftly on young Gilder, bowed to a kneeling posture before the couch,
+half-throttled by the strength of Chicago Red. Close beside him, Mary
+looked down in wordless despair over this final disaster of the night.
+There was silence among the men, all of whom save the captor himself
+were 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. Only
+Mary was revealed clearly as she bent in alarm toward the man she had
+married. It was borne in on the forger's consciousness that the face of
+the woman leaning over the intruder was stronger to hold the prisoner
+and to prevent any outcry than the might of Chicago Red himself, and so
+he gave the order.
+
+“Get away, Red.”
+
+The fellow let go his grip obediently enough, though with a trifle of
+regret, since he gloried in his physical prowess.
+
+Thus freed of that strangling embrace, Dick stumbled blindly to his
+feet. Then, mechanically, his hand went to the lamp on the table back
+of the couch. In the same moment Garson snapped his torch to darkness.
+When, after a little futile searching, Dick finally found the catch, and
+the 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. He
+had suffered severely in the process of being throttled, and, too, he
+was in the clutch of a frightful emotion. To find her, his wife, in this
+place, in such company--her, the woman whom he loved, whom, in spite
+of 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 it
+before or not, this time you have broken the law.” A sudden inspiration
+on his own behalf came to him. For his love's sake, he must seize on
+this opportunity given of fate to him for mastery. He went on with a new
+vehemence of boldness that became him well.
+
+“You're in my hands now. So are these men as well. Unless you do as I
+say, Mary, I'll jail every one of them.”
+
+Mary's usual quickness was not lacking even now, in this period of
+extremity. Her retort was given without a particle of hesitation.
+
+“You can't,” she objected with conviction. “I'm the only one you've
+seen.”
+
+“That's soon remedied,” Dick declared. He turned toward the hall door as
+if 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, but
+she clung the closer. He was reluctant to use over-much force against
+the one whom he cherished so fondly.
+
+There came a diversion from the man who had made the capture, who was
+mightily wondering over the course of events, which was wholly unlike
+anything in the whole of his own rather extensive housebreaking
+experience.
+
+“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 your
+voices.”
+
+Dick was exasperated by this persistent identification of herself with
+these 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 chill
+now. 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 I
+can'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 be
+between you and me.”
+
+The young man's voice came with a sonorous firmness that was new to
+it. In these moments, the strength of him, nourished by suffering, was
+putting forth its flower. His manner was masterful.
+
+“There can be and there will be,” he contradicted. He raised his voice a
+little, 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 one
+of 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 few
+minutes to state my case. Give me that. Whether I win or lose, you men
+go free, and I'll forget everything that has happened here to-night.”
+ There came a muffled guffaw of laughter from the big chest of Chicago
+Red at this extraordinarily ingenuous proposal, while Dacey chuckled
+more 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 face
+showed white.
+
+“You must listen,” Dick went on, facing again toward the girl, who was
+trembling before him, her eyes by turns searching his expression
+or downcast in unfamiliar confusion, which she herself could hardly
+understand.
+
+“Your safety depends on me,” the young man warned. “Suppose I should
+call for help?”
+
+Garson stepped forward threateningly.
+
+“You would only call once,” he said very gently, yet most grimly. His
+hand went to the noiseless weapon in his coat-pocket.
+
+But the young man's answer revealed the fact that he, too, was
+determined 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 some
+subtle fashion he admired this youth suddenly grown resolute, competent
+to control a dangerous event. There was even the possibility that some
+instinct of tenderness toward Mary herself made him desire that this
+opportunity should be given for wiping out the effects of misfortune
+which fate hitherto had brought into her life.
+
+“You win,” Garson said, with a half-laugh. He turned to the other men
+and spoke a command.
+
+“You get over by the hall door, Red. And keep your ears open every
+second. Give us the office if you hear anything. If we're rushed, and
+have to make a quick get-away, see that Mary has the first chance. Get
+that, 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, as
+far as possible from the husband and wife by the couch.
+
+Dick spoke at once, with a hesitancy that betrayed the depth of his
+emotion.
+
+“Don't you care for me at all?” he asked wistfully.
+
+The girl's answer was uttered with nervous eagerness which revealed her
+own 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 throwing
+away everything that makes life worth while? Don't you see that?”
+
+There was no word from the girl. Her breast was moving convulsively. She
+held 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 a
+lover, persuasive with the pity of the righteous for the sinner.
+
+“Mary, Mary!” he cried. “You've got to change. Don't be so hard. Give
+the woman in you a chance.”
+
+The girl's form became rigid as she fought for self-control. The plea
+touched 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 her
+distress.
+
+“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 ever
+wanted the things that other women have, shelter, and care, and the big
+things 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 you
+will have it so, Mary; if you'll help me. I will come out all right, I
+know that--so do you, Mary. Only, you must help me.”
+
+“I help you!” The exclamation came from the girl in a note of
+incredulous astonishment.
+
+“Yes,” Dick said, simply. “I need you, and you need me. Come away with
+me.”
+
+“No, no!” was the broken refusal. There was a great grief clutching at
+the 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 to
+repay your father the wrong he had done me. I wouldn't let myself even
+think 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 would
+never have married you for anything in the world.”
+
+“But now you do realize,” the young man said quietly. “The thing is
+done. If we made a mistake, it is for us to bring happiness out of that
+error.”
+
+“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 with
+joyous certainty, for some inflection of her voice had told the truth
+to his heart. Nothing else mattered. “But now, to come back to this hole
+we're in here. Don't you understand, at last, that you can't beat the
+law? If you're caught here to-night, where would you get off--caught
+here with a gang of burglars? Tell me, dear, why did you do it? Why
+didn't you protect yourself? Why didn't you go to Chicago as you
+planned?”
+
+“What?” There was a new quality in Mary's voice. A sudden throb of shock
+masked 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 that
+cried of new suspicions.
+
+“Why, with Burke.” The young man tried to be patient over her density in
+this time of crisis.
+
+“Who told you that I had arranged any such thing?” Mary asked. Now the
+tenseness in her manner got the husband's attention, and he replied with
+a sudden gravity, apprehensive of he knew not what.
+
+“Burke himself did.”
+
+“When?” Mary was standing rigid now, and the rare color flamed in her
+cheeks. Her eyes were blazing.
+
+“Less than an hour ago.” He had caught the contagion of her mood and
+vague 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. “What
+was he doing here?”
+
+“Talking to my father.”
+
+The seemingly simple answer appeared the last straw to the girl's burden
+of frenzied suspicion. Her voice cut fiercely into the quiet of the
+room, imperious, savage.
+
+“Joe, turn on that light! I want to see the face of every man in this
+room.”
+
+Something fatally significant in her voice set Garson a-leap to the
+switch, and, in the same second, the blaze of the chandelier flamed
+brilliantly over all. The others stood motionless, blinking in the
+sudden radiance--all save Griggs, who moved stealthily in that same
+moment, a little nearer the door into the passage, which was nearest to
+him.
+
+But Mary's next words came wholly as a surprise, seemingly totally
+irrelevant to this instant of crisis. Yet they rang a-throb with an
+hysterical anxiety.
+
+“Dick,” she cried, “what are those tapestries worth?” With the question,
+she pointed toward the draperies that shrouded the great octagonal
+window.
+
+The young man was plainly astonished, disconcerted as well by the
+obtrusion 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 manner
+was 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 voice
+came 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 something
+mysteriously baneful lay behind the frantic questioning on this
+seemingly trivial theme.
+
+“Ever since I can remember,” he replied, promptly.
+
+Mary's voice came then with an intonation that brought enlightenment
+not only to Garson's shrewd perceptions, but also to the heavier
+intelligences 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 were
+the 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 the
+implication against his father's honesty.
+
+“It's a trick! Burke's done it!” Mary's words came with accusing
+vehemence.
+
+There was another single step made by Griggs toward the door into the
+passage.
+
+Mary's eye caught the movement, and her lips soundlessly formed the
+name:
+
+“Griggs!”
+
+The man strove to carry off the situation, though he knew well that he
+stood in mortal peril. He came a little toward the girl who had accused
+him of treachery. He was very dapper in his evening clothes, with his
+rather handsome, well-groomed face set in lines of innocence.
+
+“He's lying to you!” he cried forcibly, with a scornful gesture toward
+Dick Gilder. “I tell you, those tapestries are worth a million cold.”
+
+Mary's answer was virulent in its sudden burst of hate. For once, the
+music 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 strove
+well, since he knew that he fought for his life against those whom
+he had outraged. As he spoke again, his tones were tremulous with
+sincerity--perhaps that tremulousness was born chiefly of fear, yet to
+the 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 wretch
+shrank before the loathing in her eyes.
+
+“You came to me yesterday,” she said, with more of restraint in her
+voice now, but still with inexorable rancor. “You came to me to explain
+this 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. He
+felt 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 his
+aristocratic manner, while his eyes swept the group balefully. He
+plucked the police whistle from his waistcoat-pocket, and raised it to
+his lips.
+
+He moved too slowly. In the same moment of his action, Garson had pulled
+the pistol from his pocket, had pressed the trigger. There came no spurt
+of flame. There was no sound--save perhaps a faint clicking noise. But
+the man with the whistle at his lips suddenly ceased movement, stood
+absolutely 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. His
+eyes were like balls of fire. There was a frightful grin of triumph
+twisting his mouth in this minute of punishment.
+
+In the first second of the tragedy, Dick had not understood. Indeed, he
+was still dazed by the suddenness of it all. But the falling of Griggs
+before the leveled weapon of the other man, there to lie in that ghastly
+immobility, made him to understand. He leaped toward Garson--would have
+wrenched the pistol from the other's grasp. In the struggle, it fell to
+the floor.
+
+Before either could pick it up, there came an interruption. Even in the
+stress of this scene, Chicago Red had never relaxed his professional
+caution. 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 octagonal
+window, even as Dick took possession of the pistol.
+
+“The street's empty! We must jump for it!” His hate was forgotten now
+in an emotion still deeper, and he turned to Mary. His face was all
+gentleness again, where just before it had been evil incarnate, aflame
+with the lust to destroy. “Come on, Mary,” he cried.
+
+Already Chicago Red had snapped off the lights of the chandelier, had
+sprung to the window, thrown open a panel of it, and had vanished into
+the night, with Dacey at his heels. As Garson would have called out to
+the girl again in mad anxiety for haste, he was interrupted by Dick:
+
+“She couldn't make it, Garson,” he declared coolly and resolutely. “You
+go. 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's
+half-uttered threat.
+
+“She won't be.” The quality of sincerity in Dick's voice was more
+convincing than any vow might have been.
+
+“If she is, I'll get you, that's all,” Garson said gravely, as one
+stating 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. “You
+damned 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 a
+moment at the space of window left uncovered by the draperies now, since
+the man had hurried past them, without pausing to draw them after him.
+Then, presently, the young man turned again to Mary, and took her hand
+in his. The shock of the event had somehow steadied him, since it had
+drawn his thoughts from that other more engrossing mood of concern over
+the crisis in his own life. After all, what mattered the death of this
+crook? his fancy ran. The one thing of real worth in all the world
+was the life that remained to be lived between him and her.... Then,
+violently, the selfishness of his mood was made plain to him. For the
+hand he held was shaking like some slender-stalked lily in the clutch
+of the sirocco. Even as he first perceived the fact, he saw the girl
+stagger. His arm swept about her in a virile protecting embrace--just in
+time, or she would have fallen.
+
+A whisper came from her quivering lips. Her face was close to his, else
+he could not have caught the uncertain murmuring. That face now was
+become ghastly pale. The violet eyes were widened and dull. The muscles
+of her face twitched. She rested supinely against him, as if bereft of
+any 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 spoken
+as well--stirred the man to the deeps of his being. He shuddered, as
+he turned his eyes to avoid seeing the thing that lay so very near,
+mercifully merged within the shadows beyond the gentle radiance from the
+single lamp. With a pang of infinite pity for the woman in his arms, he
+apprehended in some degree the torture this event must have inflicted
+on her. Frightful to him, it must in truth be vastly worse to her. There
+was her womanly sensitiveness to enhance the innate hideousness of the
+thing that had been done here before their eyes. There was, too, the
+fact that the murderer himself had been the man to whom she owed her
+life. Yes, for him, Dick realized with poignant sympathy, the happening
+that night was terrible indeed: for her, as he guessed now at last,
+the torture must be something easily to overwhelm all her strength. His
+touch on her grew tender beyond the ordinary tenderness of love, made
+gentler by a great underlying compassion for her misery.
+
+Dick drew Mary toward the couch, there let her sink down in a huddled
+attitude of despair.
+
+“I never saw a man--killed before!” she said again. There was a note of
+half-hysterical, almost childish complaint in her voice. She moved
+her head a little, as if to look into the shadows where _it_ lay,
+then checked herself violently, and looked up at her husband with the
+pathetic 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 was
+interrupted by a slight sound at the door. Instantly, he was all alert
+to meet the exigencies of the situation. He stood by the couch, bending
+forward a little, as if in a posture of intimate fondness. Then, with
+a new thought, he got out his cigarette-case and lighted a cigarette,
+after which he resumed his former leaning over the woman as would the
+ardent lover. He heard the noise again presently, now so near that
+he made sure of being overheard, so at once he spoke with a forced
+cheerfulness in his inflection.
+
+“I tell you, Mary,” he declared, “everything's going to be all right for
+you 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 of
+murder--that nightmare wherein she had seen Griggs fall dead to the
+floor.
+
+Dick, in nervous apprehension as to the issue, sought to bring her to
+realization 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 he
+continued. “Why, I've been trying all day to see you. And, now, here we
+are together, just as I was beginning to get really discouraged.... I
+know my father will eventually----”
+
+He was interrupted by the swift swinging open of the hallway door. Burke
+stood just within the library, a revolver pointed menacingly.
+
+“Hands up!--all of you!” The Inspector's voice fairly roared the
+command.
+
+The belligerent expression of his face vanished abruptly, as his eyes
+fell on Dick standing by the couch and Mary reclining there in limp
+helplessness. His surprise would have been ludicrous but for the
+seriousness of the situation to all concerned. Burke's glance roved the
+room sharply, and he was quickly convinced that these two were in fact
+the only present spoil of his careful plotting. His face set grimly, for
+the disappointment of this minute surged fiercely within him. He started
+to 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, Inspector
+Burke. But you must understand that there are limits even to what you
+can do. It seems to me, sir, that you exceed your authority by such an
+intrusion as this.”
+
+Burke, however, was not a whit dismayed by the rebuke and the air of
+rather contemptuous disdain with which it was uttered. He waved his
+revolver toward Mary, merely as a gesture of inquisitiveness, without
+any 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 to
+entrap this woman had somehow been set awry. “What's she doing here, I
+say?” he repeated heavily. His keen eyes were darting once more about
+the room, questing some clue to this disturbing mystery, so hateful to
+his pride.
+
+Dick's manner became that of the devoted husband offended by impertinent
+obtrusion.
+
+“You forget yourself, Inspector,” he said, icily. “This is my wife. She
+has the right to be with me--her husband!”
+
+The Inspector grinned sceptically. He was moved no more effectively by
+Mary'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 was
+not in the least deceived. He was aware that something untoward, as he
+deemed it, had occurred. It seemed to him, in fact, that his finical
+mechanisms for the undoing of Mary Turner were in a fair way to be
+thwarted. But he would not give up the cause without a struggle. Again,
+he addressed himself to Dick, disregarding completely the aloof manner
+of the young man.
+
+“Where's your father?” he questioned roughly.
+
+“In bed, naturally,” was the answer. “I ask you again: What are you
+doing here at this time of night?”
+
+Burke shook his shoulders ponderously in a movement of impatience over
+this 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't
+mind. Really, the idea is absurd, you know.” Suddenly, he smiled very
+winningly, 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 to
+give 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 got
+to talk it over. Now, then, Inspector, if you'll come back in the
+morning----”
+
+The official grinned sardonically. He could not in the least guess just
+what had in very deed happened, but he was far too clever a man to be
+bamboozled by Dick's maunderings.
+
+“Oh, that's it!” he exclaimed, with obvious incredulity.
+
+“Of course,” Dick replied bravely, though he knew that the Inspector
+disbelieved his pretenses. Still, for his own part, he was inclined
+as yet to be angry rather than alarmed by this failure to impress the
+officer. “You see, I didn't know----”
+
+And even in the moment of his saying, the white beam of the flashing
+searchlight from the Tower fell between the undrawn draperies of the
+octagonal window. The light startled the Inspector again, as it had done
+once before that same night. His gaze followed it instinctively. So,
+within the second, he saw the still form lying there on the floor--lying
+where had been shadows, where now, for the passing of an instant, was
+brilliant radiance.
+
+There was no mistaking that awful, motionless, crumpled posture. The
+Inspector knew in this single instant of view that murder had been done
+here. Even as the beam of light from the Tower shifted and vanished from
+the room, he leaped to the switch by the door, and turned on the lights
+of the chandelier. In the next moment, he had reached the door of the
+passage across the room, and his whistle sounded shrill. His voice
+bellowed reinforcement to the blast.
+
+“Cassidy! Cassidy!”
+
+As Dick made a step toward his wife, from whom he had withdrawn a little
+in 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 plainly
+surprised to find the room so nearly empty, where he had expected to
+behold a gang of robbers.
+
+“Why, what's it all mean, Chief?” he questioned. His peering eyes fell
+on Dick, standing beside Mary, and they rounded in amazement.
+
+“They've got Griggs!” Burke answered. There was exceeding rage in his
+voice, as he spoke from his kneeling posture beside the body, to which
+he had hurried after the summons to his aides. He glowered up into the
+bewildered 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 heard
+the shot?”
+
+“But there wasn't any shot,” the perplexed and alarmed detective
+expostulated. He fairly stuttered in the earnestness of his
+self-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,” he
+rumbled. He wheeled on Mary and Dick. “So!” he shouted, “now it's
+murder!... 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, but
+he was able to cope with the situation. He nodded toward Dick as he gave
+his order: “Search him!”
+
+Before the detective could obey the direction, Dick took the revolver
+from his pocket where he had bestowed it, and held it out.
+
+And it so chanced that at this incriminating crisis for the son, the
+father hastily strode within the library. He had been aroused by the
+Inspector's shouting, and was evidently greatly perturbed. His usual
+dignified air was marred by a patent alarm.
+
+“What's all this?” he exclaimed, as he halted and stared doubtfully on
+the scene before him.
+
+Burke, in a moment like this, was no respecter of persons, for all his
+judicious attentions on other occasions to those whose influence might
+serve 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 somber
+menace in his voice, “you did it, young man.” He nodded toward the
+detective. “Well, Cassidy, you can take 'em both down-town.... That's
+all.”
+
+The command aroused Dick to remonstrance against such indignity toward
+the woman whom he loved.
+
+“Not her!” he cried, imploringly. “You don't want her, Inspector! This
+is 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 that
+mental clarity which was distinctive in her.
+
+“Dick,” she advised quietly, but with underlying urgency in her gently
+spoken words, “don't talk, please.”
+
+Burke laughed harshly.
+
+“What do you expect?” he inquired truculently. “As a matter of fact, the
+thing's simple enough, young man. Either you killed Griggs, or she did.”
+
+The Inspector, with his charge, made a careless gesture toward the
+corpse of the murdered stool-pigeon. For the first time, Edward Gilder,
+as his glance unconsciously followed the officer's movement, looked and
+saw the ghastly inanimate heap of flesh and bone that had once been a
+man. He fairly reeled at the gruesome spectacle, then fumbled with an
+outstretched hand as he moved stumblingly until he laid hold on a chair,
+into which he sank helplessly. It suddenly smote upon his consciousness
+that he felt very old and broken. He marveled dully over the
+sensation--it was wholly new to him. Then, soon, from a long way off,
+he heard the strident voice of the Inspector remorselessly continuing
+in the vile, the impossible accusation.... And that grotesque accusation
+was hurled against his only son--the boy whom he so loved. The thing
+was monstrous, a thing incredible. This whole seeming was no more than
+a chimera of the night, a phantom of bad dreams, with no truth under
+it.... Yet, the stern voice of the official came with a strange
+semblance 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 over
+the course of events in this night of fearful happenings.
+
+“No, no! He didn't!”
+
+Burke's rasping voice reiterated the accusation with a certain
+complacency 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 the
+fate of the woman.
+
+“I told you, no!”
+
+The Inspector, always savagely impressive now in voice and look and
+gesture, 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'm
+talking to you!” he snapped. “Did he kill him?”
+
+The reply came with a soft distinctness that was like a crash of
+destiny.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Dick turned to his wife in reproachful amazement.
+
+“Mary!” he cried, incredulously. This betrayal was something
+inconceivable from her, since he believed that now at last he knew her
+heart.
+
+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 sole
+ambition just now was to fix the crime definitely on the perpetrator.
+
+“You'll swear he killed him?” he asked, briskly, well content with this
+concrete result of the entanglement.
+
+Mary subtly evaded the question, while seeming to give unqualified
+assent.
+
+“Why not?” she responded listlessly.
+
+At this intolerable assertion as he deemed it, Edward Gilder was
+reanimated. He sat rigidly erect in his, chair. In that frightful
+moment, it came to him anew that here was in verity the last detail in a
+consummate 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 her
+curving lips, but there was no satisfaction in that smile, as of one who
+realized 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, there
+was a hint of the quizzical creeping in the smile. “No, they can't!”
+ she repeated firmly, and there was profound relief in her tones since
+at last her ingenuity had found a way out of this outrageous situation
+thrust on her and on her husband.
+
+Burke glared at the speaker in a rage that was abruptly grown suspicious
+in 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 that
+her quick-wittedness had discovered a method for baffling the mesh of
+evidence that had been woven about her and Dick through no fault
+of their own. Her eyes were glowing with even more than their usual
+lusters. Her voice came softly modulated, almost mocking.
+
+“Because you couldn't convict him,” she said succinctly. A contented
+smile bent the red graces of her lips.
+
+Burke sneered an indignation that was, nevertheless, somewhat fearful of
+what might lie behind the woman's assurance.
+
+“What's the reason?” he demanded, scornfully. “There's the body.” He
+pointed to the rigid form of the dead man, lying there so very near
+them. “And the gun was found on him. And then, you're willing to swear
+that he killed him.... Well, I guess we'll convict him, all right. Why
+not?”
+
+Mary's answer was given quietly, but, none the less, with an assurance
+that 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 continued
+evenly, “was the burglar. You know that! My husband shot him in defense
+of his home!” There was a brief silence. Then, she added, with a
+wonderful mildness in the music of her voice. “And so, Inspector, as you
+know of course, he was within the law!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. WHO SHOT GRIGGS?
+
+In his office next morning, Inspector Burke was fuming over the failure
+of his conspiracy. He had hoped through this plot to vindicate his
+authority, so sadly flaunted by Garson and Mary Turner. Instead of
+this much-to-be-desired result from his scheming, the outcome had been
+nothing less than disastrous. The one certain fact was that his most
+valuable ally in his warfare against the criminals of the city had been
+done to death. Some one had murdered Griggs, the stool-pigeon. Where
+Burke had meant to serve a man of high influence, Edward Gilder, by
+railroading the bride of the magnate's son to prison, he had succeeded
+only in making the trouble of that merchant prince vastly worse in
+the ending of the affair by arresting the son for the capital crime of
+murder. The situation was, in very truth, intolerable. More than ever,
+Burke grew hot with intent to overcome the woman who had so persistently
+outraged his authority by her ingenious devices against the law. Anyhow,
+the murder of Griggs could not go unpunished. The slayer's identity
+must be determined, and thereafter the due penalty of the law inflicted,
+whoever the guilty person might prove to be. To the discovery of this
+identity, the Inspector was at the present moment devoting himself by
+adroit questioning of Dacey and Chicago Red, who had been arrested in
+one 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 employ
+those methods of persuasion which have risen to a high degree of
+admiration in police circles.
+
+“Come across now!” he admonished. His voice rolled forth like that of a
+bull of Bashan. He was on his feet, facing the two thieves. His head was
+thrust forward menacingly, and his eyes were savage. The two men shrank
+before him--both in natural fear, and, too, in a furtive policy of their
+own. This was no occasion for them to assert a personal pride against
+the man who had them in his toils.
+
+“I don't know nothin'!” Chicago Red's voice was between a snarl and a
+whine. “Ain't I been telling you that for over an hour?”
+
+Burke vouchsafed no answer in speech, but with a nimbleness surprising
+in 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 under
+its impetus.
+
+With this by way of appreciable introduction to his seriousness of
+purpose, 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 was
+freighted with suggestions of disasters to come, which were well
+understood by the cringing wretch before him.
+
+The thief shuddered, and his face, already pallid from the prison lack
+of sunlight like some noxious growth of a cellar, became livid. His
+words came in a muffled moan of fear.
+
+“God, no!”
+
+Burke left a little interval of silence then in which the thieves
+might tremble over the prospect suggested by his words, but always he
+maintained his steady, relentless glare on the cowed creatures. It was
+a familiar warfare with him. Yet, in this instance, he was destined
+to failure, for the men were of a type different from that of English
+Eddie, who was lying dead as the meet reward for treachery to his
+fellows.... 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 was
+enough. The thief went to his knees under the blow.
+
+“Now, get up--and talk!” Burke's voice came with unrepentant noisiness
+against the stricken man.
+
+Cringingly, Chicago Red, who so gloried in his strength, yet was now
+altogether humble in this precarious case, obeyed as far as the getting
+to his feet was concerned.... It never occurred to him even that he
+should carry his obedience to the point of “squealing on a pal!” Had
+the circumstances been different, he might have refused to accept the
+Inspector's blow with such meekness, since above all things he loved
+a bit of bodily strife with some one near his own strength, and the
+Inspector 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 a
+respectful distance from the official, though his big hands fairly ached
+to double into fists for blows with this man who had so maltreated him.
+
+His own self-respect, of its peculiar sort, was saved by the
+interference of Cassidy, who entered the Inspector's office to announce
+the arrival of the District Attorney.
+
+“Send 'im in,” Burke directed at once. He made a gesture toward the
+doorman, and added: “Take 'em back!”
+
+A grin of evil humor writhed the lips of the police official, and he
+added to the attentive doorman a word of direction that might well be
+interpreted by the malevolent expression on his face.
+
+“Don't be rough with 'em, Dan,” he said. For once, his dominating
+voice was reduced to something approaching softness, in his sardonic
+appreciation of his own humor in the conception of what these two men,
+who had ventured to resist his importunities, might receive at the hands
+of his faithful satellites.... The doorman grinned appreciatively, and
+herded his victims from the place. And the two went shamblingly in sure
+knowledge of the things that were in store. Yet, without thought of
+treachery. They would not “squeal”! All they would tell of the death of
+Eddie Griggs would be: “He got what was coming to him!”
+
+The Inspector dropped into his swivel chair at the desk whilst he
+awaited the arrival of Demarest, the District Attorney. The greetings
+between the two were cordial when at last the public prosecutor made his
+appearance.
+
+“I came as soon as I got your message,” the District Attorney said, as
+he 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 into
+Edward Gilder's house, last night! I knew the trick was going to be
+pulled off, and so I planted Cassidy and a couple of other men just
+outside 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 arrests
+myself.” A look of intense disgust spread itself over the Inspector's
+massive face. “Well,” he concluded sheepishly, “when I broke into the
+room I found young Gilder along with that Turner woman he married, and
+they were just talking together.”
+
+“No trace of the others?” Demarest questioned crisply.
+
+At the inquiry, Burke's face crimsoned angrily, then again set in grim
+lines.
+
+“I found Griggs lying on the floor--dead!” Once again the disgust showed
+in his expression. “The Turner woman says young Gilder shot Griggs
+because 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, he
+won't, he's such a fool over her.”
+
+“And what does she say?” Demarest asked. He found himself rather amused
+by 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 cheerfulness
+appeared 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've
+picked up a young girl at the Turner woman's place. And we've got one
+real clue--for once!” The speaker's expression was suddenly triumphant.
+He opened a drawer of the desk, and took out Garson's pistol, to which
+the 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 thing
+on the end is a Maxim silencer. There are thousands of them in use on
+rifles, 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 it
+back and slipped it into a pocket of his coat. “That thing is absolutely
+noiseless. I've tried it. Well, you see, it'll be an easy thing--easiest
+thing in the world!--to trace that silencer attachment. Cassidy's
+working on that end of the thing now.”
+
+For a few minutes longer, the two men discussed the details of the
+crime, theorizing over the baffling event. Then, presently, Cassidy
+entered the office, and made report of his investigations concerning the
+pistol with the silencer attachment.
+
+“I got the factory at Hartford on the wire,” he explained, “and they
+gave me Mr. Maxim himself, the inventor of the silencer. He said this
+was 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 that
+they never will be.”
+
+“For humane reasons,” Demarest commented, nodding approbation.
+
+“Good thing, too!” Burke conceded. “They'd make murder too devilish
+easy, 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, and
+chuckled drily. “He adds the startling information that the New Haven
+police have not been able to recover any of the stolen property. Them
+rube 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 stolen
+goods.”
+
+“Good-night!” quoth Cassidy, turning at the door, in admission of his
+discomfiture over the thrust, while Burke himself grinned wryly in
+appreciation of the gibe.
+
+Demarest grew grave again, as he put the question that was troubling him
+most.
+
+“Is there any chance that young Gilder did shoot Griggs?”
+
+“You can search me!” the Inspector answered, disconsolately. “My men
+were just outside the door of the room where Eddie Griggs was shot to
+death, 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 very
+crisply. “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 that
+Garson, 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; “but
+Griggs is dead. You see, Burke, you couldn't in a trial even repeat what
+he told you. It's not permissible evidence.”
+
+“Oh, the law!” the Inspector snorted, with much choler. “Well, then,” he
+went on belligerently, “I'll charge young Gilder with murder, and call
+the Turner woman as a witness.”
+
+The District Attorney laughed aloud over this project.
+
+“You can't question her on the witness-stand,” he explained
+patronizingly to the badgered police official. “The law doesn't allow
+you to make a wife testify against her husband. And, what's more, you
+can't arrest her, and then force her to go into the witness-stand,
+either. No, Burke,” he concluded emphatically, “your only chance of
+getting the murderer of Griggs is by a confession.”
+
+“Then, I'll charge them both with the murder,” the Inspector growled
+vindictively. “And, by God, they'll both go to trial unless somebody
+comes 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,” he
+declared, “I'm going to get the man who shot Eddie Griggs.”
+
+Demarest was seriously disturbed by the situation that had developed. He
+was under great personal obligations to Edward Gilder, whose influence
+in fact had been the prime cause of his success in attaining to the
+important official position he now held, and he would have gone far
+to serve the magnate in any difficulty that might arise. He had been
+perfectly willing to employ all the resources of his office to relieve
+the son from the entanglement with a woman of unsavory notoriety. Now,
+thanks to the miscarried plotting of Burke to the like end, what before
+had been merely a vicious state of affairs was become one of the utmost
+dreadfulness. The worst of crimes had been committed in the house of
+Edward Gilder himself, and his son acknowledged himself as the murderer.
+The District Attorney felt a genuine sorrow in thinking of the anguish
+this event must have brought on the father. He had, as well, sympathy
+enough for the son. His acquaintance with the young man convinced him
+that the boy had not done the deed of bloody violence. In that fact was
+a mingling of comfort and of anxiety. It had been better, doubtless,
+if indeed Dick had shot Griggs, had indicted a just penalty on a
+housebreaker. But the District Attorney was not inclined to credit the
+confession. Burke's account of the plot in which the stool-pigeon had
+been the agent offered too many complications. Altogether, the aspect of
+the 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 a
+minute 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 his
+rights must not be invaded. He, too, would have gone far to serve a man
+of Edward Gilder's standing, but in this instance his professional pride
+was in revolt. He had been defied, trapped, made a victim of the gang
+who 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. “Perhaps
+the old gentleman can make him talk. I can't. He's under that woman's
+thumb, of course, and she's told him he mustn't say a word. So, he
+don't.” A grin of half-embarrassed appreciation moved the heavy jaws as
+he glanced at the District Attorney. “You see,” he explained, “I can't
+make him talk, but I might if circumstances were different. On account
+of 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 Dacey
+or Chicago Red, but quite another to employ the like violence against
+a youth of Dick Gilder's position in the world. Demarest understood
+perfectly, but he was inclined to be sceptical over the Inspector's
+theory that Dick possessed actual cognizance as to the killing of
+Griggs.
+
+“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 been
+murdered.” The official's voice was charged with threatening as he went
+on. “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 Inspector
+sneered openly.
+
+“How do you know she ain't?” he demanded. “Well, anyhow, she's made a
+monkey 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 of
+his 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's
+flat.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. AGGIE AT BAY.
+
+Burke, after the lawyer had left him, watched the door expectantly for
+the coming of the girl, whom he had ordered brought before him. But,
+when at last Dan appeared, and stood aside to permit her passing into
+the office, the Inspector gasped at the unexpectedness of the vision.
+He had anticipated the coming of a woman of that world with which he was
+most familiar in the exercise of his professional duties--the underworld
+of criminals, some one beautiful perhaps, but with the brand of
+viciousness marked subtly, yet visibly for the trained eye to see. Then,
+even in that first moment, he told himself that he should have been
+prepared for the unusual in this instance, since the girl had to do with
+Mary Turner, and that disturbing person herself showed in face and form
+and manner nothing to suggest aught but a gentlewoman. And, in the next
+instant, the Inspector forgot his surprise in a sincere, almost ardent
+admiration.
+
+The girl was rather short, but of a slender elegance of form that was
+ravishing. She was gowned, too, with a chic nicety to arouse the envy of
+all less-fortunate women. Her costume had about it an indubitable air,
+a finality of perfection in its kind. On another, it might have appeared
+perhaps the merest trifle garish. But that fault, if in fact it ever
+existed, was made into a virtue by the correcting innocence of
+the girl's face. It was a childish face, childish in the exquisite
+smoothness of the soft, pink skin, childish in the wondering stare of
+the blue eyes, now so widely opened in dismay, childish in the wistful
+drooping of the rosebud mouth.
+
+The girl advanced slowly, with a laggard hesitation in her movements
+obviously from fear. She approached the desk, from behind which the
+Inspector watched, fascinated by the fresh and wholesome beauty of this
+young creature. He failed to observe the underlying anger beneath the
+girl's outward display of alarm. He shook off his first impression by
+means 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 lips
+drooped no longer, but were bent to a haughtiness that was finely
+impressive.
+
+Before the offended indignation of the young woman, Burke sat bewildered
+by 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 low
+and rich, with a charming roundness that seemed the very hallmark of
+gentility. But, now, it was surcharged with an indignant amazement over
+the indignity put upon her by the representatives of the law. Then,
+abruptly, the blue eyes were softened in their fires, as by the sudden
+nearness of tears.
+
+“What do you mean?” the girl repeated. Her slim form was tense with
+wrath. “I demand my instant release.” There was indescribable rebuke in
+her slow emphasis of the words.
+
+Burke was impressed in spite of himself, in spite of his accustomed cold
+indifference to the feelings of others as necessity compelled him
+to make investigation of them. His harsh, blustering voice softened
+perceptibly, and he spoke in a wheedling tone, such as one might employ
+in the effort to tranquillize a spoiled child in a fit of temper.
+
+“Wait a minute,” he remonstrated. “Wait a minute!” He made a pacifically
+courteous gesture toward one of the chairs, which stood by an end of the
+desk. “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, I
+have been arrested----” There came a break in the music of her tones
+throbbing resentment. A little sob crept in, and broke the sequence of
+words. The dainty face was vivid with shame. “I--” she faltered, “I've
+been arrested--by a common policeman!”
+
+The Inspector seized on the one flaw left him for defense against her
+indictment.
+
+“No, no, miss,” he argued, earnestly. “Excuse me. It wasn't any common
+policeman--it was a detective sergeant.”
+
+But his effort to placate was quite in vain. The ingenuous little beauty
+with the child's face and the blue eyes so widely opened fairly panted
+in her revolt against the ignominy of her position, and was not to be so
+easily appeased. Her voice came vibrant with disdain. Her level gaze on
+the Inspector was of a sort to suggest to him anxieties over possible
+complications here.
+
+“You wait!” she cried violently. “You just wait, I tell you, until my
+papa hears of this!”
+
+Burke regarded the furious girl doubtfully.
+
+“Who is your papa?” he asked, with a bit of alarm stirring in his
+breast, for he had no mind to offend any one of importance where there
+was no need.
+
+“I sha'n't tell you,” came the petulant retort from the girl. Her ivory
+forehead was wrinkled charmingly in a little frown of obstinacy. “Why,”
+ she went on, displaying new symptoms of distress over another appalling
+idea that flashed on her in this moment, “you would probably give my
+name to the reporters.” Once again the rosebud mouth drooped into curves
+of sorrow, of a great self-pity. “If it ever got into the newspapers, my
+family would die of shame!”
+
+The pathos of her fear pierced through the hardened crust of the police
+official. He spoke apologetically.
+
+“Now, the easiest way out for both of us,” he suggested, “is for you
+to tell me just who you are. You see, young lady, you were found in the
+house of a notorious crook.”
+
+The haughtiness of the girl waxed. It seemed as if she grew an inch
+taller in her scorn of the Inspector's saying.
+
+“How perfectly absurd!” she exclaimed, scathingly. “I was calling on
+Miss Mary Turner!”
+
+“How did you come to meet her, anyhow?” Burke inquired. He still
+held his big voice to a softer modulation than that to which it was
+habituated.
+
+Yet, the disdain of the girl seemed only to increase momently. She
+showed plainly that she regarded this brass-buttoned official as one
+unbearably insolent in his demeanor toward her. Nevertheless, she
+condescended to reply, with an exaggeration of the aristocratic drawl to
+indicate her displeasure.
+
+“I was introduced to Miss Turner,” she explained, “by Mr. Richard
+Gilder. Perhaps you have heard of his father, the owner of the
+Emporium.”
+
+“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 are
+entirely mistaken in this matter.” Her blue eyes widened further as
+she stared accusingly at the Inspector, who betrayed evidences of
+perplexity, and hesitated for an answer. Then, the doll-like, charming
+face 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 the
+presence of this delicate and graceful femininity, he experienced a
+sudden, novel distaste for his usual sledge-hammer methods of attack
+in interrogation. Yet, his duty required that he should continue his
+questioning. He found himself in fact between the devil and the deep
+sea--though this particular devil appeared rather as an angel of light.
+
+Now, at his somewhat feeble remark in reply to her query, the childish
+face grew as hard as its curving contours would permit.
+
+“Sir!” she cried indignantly. Her little head was thrown back in
+scornful reproof, and she turned a shoulder toward the official
+contemptuously.
+
+“Now, now!” Burke exclaimed in remonstrance. After all, he could not be
+brutal with this guileless maiden. He must, however, make the situation
+clear 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 manner
+that would have been inconceivable to Dacey and Chicago Red; “you see,
+the fact is that, even if you were introduced to this Mary Turner by
+young Mr. Gilder, this same Mary Turner herself is an ex-convict, and
+she's just been arrested for murder.”
+
+At the dread word, a startling change was wrought in the girl. She
+wheeled to face the Inspector, her slender body swaying a little toward
+him. The rather heavy brows were lifted slightly in a disbelieving
+stare. 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 ice
+thus effectually. “You see, if there's a mistake about you, you don't
+want 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 little
+while before. “You see that, don't you?”
+
+“Oh, yes, yes!” was the instant agreement. “You should have told me all
+about this horrid thing in the first place.” Now, the girl's manner was
+transformed. She smiled wistfully on the Inspector, and the glance of
+the blue eyes was very kind, subtly alluring. Yet in this unbending,
+there appeared even more decisively than hitherto the fine qualities
+in bearing of one delicately nurtured. She sank down in a chair by the
+desk, and forthwith spoke with a simplicity that in itself was somehow
+peculiarly 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 new
+deference 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 agitation
+over the thought of any possible publicity in this affair.
+
+“Oh, please, don't tell any one,” she begged prettily. The blue eyes
+were very imploring, beguiling, too. The timid smile that wreathed the
+tiny mouth was marvelously winning. The neatly gloved little hands were
+held outstretched, clasped in supplication. “Surely, sir, you see now
+quite 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 dreadful
+place--though you have been quite nice!” Her voice dropped to a note
+of musical prayerfulness. The words were spoken very softly and very
+slowly, with intonations difficult for a man to deny. “Please let me go
+home.” She plucked a minute handkerchief from her handbag, put it to her
+eyes, and began to sob quietly.
+
+The burly Inspector of Police was moved to quick sympathy. Really, when
+all was said and done, it was a shame that one like her should by some
+freak of fate have become involved in the sordid, vicious things that
+his profession made it obligatory on him to investigate. There was a
+considerable hint of the paternal in his air as he made an attempt to
+offer consolation to the afflicted damsel.
+
+“That's all right, little lady,” he exclaimed cheerfully. “Now, don't
+you be worried--not a little bit. Take it from me, Miss West.... Just go
+ahead, and tell me all you know about this Turner woman. Did you see her
+yesterday?”
+
+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 a
+question to him with great eagerness.
+
+“Will you let me go home as soon as I've told you the teensy little I
+know?”
+
+“Yes,” Burke agreed promptly, with an encouraging smile. And for a good
+measure of reassurance, he added as one might to an alarmed child: “No
+one 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 that
+he knew a very charming young woman, who----”
+
+Here the speech ended abruptly, and once again the handkerchief was
+brought 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 a
+moan.
+
+Burke felt himself vaguely guilty as the cause of such suffering on the
+part of one so young, so fair, so innocent. As a culprit, he sought his
+best to afford a measure of soothing for this grief that had had its
+source in his performance of duty.
+
+“That's all right, little lady,” he urged in a voice as nearly
+mellifluous as he could contrive with its mighty volume. “That's all
+right. I have to keep on telling you. Nobody's going to hurt you--not a
+little bit. Believe me! Why, nobody ever would want to hurt you!”
+
+But his well-meant attempt to assuage the stricken creature's wo was
+futile. The sobbing continued. With it came a plaintive cry, many times
+repeated, softly, but very miserably.
+
+“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
+
+“Isn't there something else you can tell me about this woman?” Burke
+inquired in desperation before the plaintive outburst. He hoped to
+distract 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 at
+all for you to be afraid of.”
+
+“I'm afraid!” the girl asserted dismally. “I'm afraid you will--put
+me--in a cell!” Her voice sank to a murmur hardly audible as she
+spoke the words so fraught with dread import to one of her refined
+sensibilities.
+
+“Pooh!” Burke returned, gallantly. “Why, my dear young lady, nobody in
+the world could think of you and a cell at the same time--no, indeed!”
+
+Instantly, the girl responded to this bald flattery. She fairly radiated
+appreciation 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?” he
+questioned.
+
+“Oh, yes! I've only seen her two or three times,” came the ready
+response. The voice changed to supplication, and again the clasped hands
+were 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 he
+was moved to graciousness. Besides, it was obvious that his police net
+in this instance had enmeshed only the most harmless of doves. He smiled
+encouragingly.
+
+“Well, now, little lady,” he said, almost tenderly, “if I let you
+go now, will you promise to let me know if you are able to think of
+anything else about this Turner woman?”
+
+“I will--indeed, I will!” came the fervent assurance. There was
+something almost--quite provocative in the flash of gratitude that shone
+forth from the blue eyes of the girl in that moment of her superlative
+relief. 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 with
+a sort of massive playfulness in his manner, “no one has hurt you--not
+even 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 up
+joyously, and started toward the door, with a final ravishing smile for
+the pleased official at the desk.
+
+“I'll go just as fast as ever I can,” the musical voice made assurance
+blithely.
+
+“Give my compliments to your father,” Burke requested courteously. “And
+tell him I'm sorry I frightened you.”
+
+The girl turned at the door.... After all, too great haste might be
+indiscreet.
+
+“I will, Commissioner,” she promised, with an arch smile. “And I know
+papa will be so grateful to you for all your kindness to me!”
+
+It was at this critical moment that Cassidy entered from the opposite
+side of the office. As his eyes fell on the girl at the door across from
+him, his stolid face lighted in a grin. And, in that same instant of
+recognition between the two, the color went out of the girl's face. The
+little red lips snapped together in a line of supreme disgust against
+this vicissitude of fate after all her manoeuverings in the face of the
+enemy. She stood motionless in wordless dismay, impotent before this
+disaster forced on her by untoward chance.
+
+“Hello, Aggie!” the detective remarked, with a smirk, while the
+Inspector stared from one to the other with rounded eyes of wonder, and
+his jaw dropped from the stark surprise of this new development.
+
+The girl returned deliberately to the chair she had occupied through
+the interview with the Inspector, and dropped into it weakly. Her form
+rested there limply now, and the blue eyes stared disconsolately at the
+blank wall before her. She realized that fate had decreed defeat for her
+in the game. It was after a minute of silence in which the two men sat
+staring that at last she spoke with a savage wrath against the pit into
+which 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 to
+Cassidy, and then back again to the girl, who sat immobile with her blue
+eyes steadfastly fixed on the wall. The police official was, in truth,
+totally bewildered. Here was inexplicable mystery. Finally, he addressed
+the detective curtly.
+
+“Cassidy, do you know this woman?”
+
+“Sure, I do!” came the placid answer. He went on to explain with the
+direct brevity of his kind. “She's little Aggie Lynch--con' woman, from
+Buffalo--two years for blackmail--did her time at Burnsing.”
+
+With this succinct narrative concerning the girl who sat mute and
+motionless in the chair with her eyes fast on the wall, Cassidy relapsed
+into silence, during which he stared rather perplexedly at his chief,
+who seemed to be in the throes of unusual emotion. As the detective
+expressed it in his own vernacular: For the first time in his
+experience, the Inspector appeared to be actually “rattled.”
+
+For a little time, there was silence, the while Burke sat staring at the
+averted face of the girl. His expression was that of one who has just
+undergone a soul-stirring shock. Then, presently, he set his features
+grimly, rose from his chair, and walked to a position directly in the
+front 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 a
+certain enthusiasm. He laughed aloud until his eyes were only slits, and
+his 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 in
+his 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, and
+he turned quickly to the attentive Cassidy.
+
+“Have you got a picture of this young woman?” he asked brusquely. And
+when Cassidy had replied in the negative, he again faced the adventuress
+with a mocking grin--in which mockery, too, was a fair fragment for
+himself, 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, somewhat
+shamefacedly before this question from his inferior. Then he chuckled,
+for he had sense of humor sufficient to triumph even over his own
+discomfiture in this encounter. “And she had me winging, too!” he
+confessed. “Yes, I admit it.” He turned to the girl admiringly. “You
+sure are immense, little one--immense!” He smiled somewhat more in his
+official manner of mastery. “And now, may I have the honor of asking you
+to accept the escort of Mr. Cassidy to our gallery.”
+
+Aggie sprang to her feet and regarded the Inspector with eyes in which
+was now no innocence, such as had beguiled him so recently from those
+ingenuous orbs.
+
+“Oh, can that stuff!” she cried, crossly. “Let's get down to business on
+the dot--and no frills on it! Keep to cases!”
+
+“Now you're talking,” Burke declared, with a new appreciation of the
+versatility 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 remained
+no trace of the shrinking violet that had been Miss Helen Travers West.
+Now, she revealed merely the business woman engaged in a fight against
+the 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, with
+an almost convincing tranquillity of assertion. “Why, I'll be sprung
+inside an hour.” There came a ripple of laughter that reminded the
+Inspector of the fashion in which he had been overcome by this woman's
+wiles. And she spoke with a certitude of conviction that was rather
+terrifying 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 final
+declarations, “when did you see Mary Turner last?”
+
+Aggie resorted anew to her practices of deception. Her voice held the
+accents of unimpeachable truth, and her eyes looked unflinchingly into
+those 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 wounded
+by the charge against her veracity. “Oh, I wouldn't do anything
+like 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 of
+Miss Helen Travers West.
+
+“So help me,” Aggie continued with the utmost solemnity, “Mary never
+left the house all night. I'd swear that's the truth on a pile of Bibles
+a mile high!”
+
+“Have to be higher than that,” the Inspector commented, grimly. “You
+see, Aggie Lynch, Mary Turner was arrested just after midnight.” His
+voice deepened and came blustering. “Young woman, you'd better tell all
+you know.”
+
+“I don't know a thing!” Aggie retorted, sharply. She faced the Inspector
+fiercely, quite unabashed by the fact that her vigorous offer to commit
+perjury had been of no avail.
+
+Burke, with a quick movement, drew the pistol from his pocket and
+extended 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 well
+calculated to deceive. “I never laid eyes on it till now.”
+
+The Inspector's tone abruptly took on a somber coloring, with an
+underlying menace.
+
+“English Eddie was killed with this gun last night,” he said. “Now, who
+did it?” His broad face was sinister. “Come on, now! Who did it?”
+
+Aggie became flippant, seemingly unimpressed by the Inspector's
+savageness.
+
+“How should I know?” she drawled. “What do you think I am--a
+fortune-teller?”
+
+“You'd better come through,” Burke reiterated. Then his manner changed
+to 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 little
+piece of money, too.”
+
+The girl's face changed with startling swiftness. She regarded the
+Inspector shrewdly, a crafty glint in her eyes.
+
+“Let me get this straight,” she said. “If I tell you what I know about
+Mary 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 suddenly
+distorted with rage, a rage black and venomous. The blue eyes were
+blazing. The voice came thin and piercing.
+
+“I say, you're a great big stiff! What do you think I am?” she stormed
+at the discomfited Inspector, while Cassidy looked on in some enjoyment
+at beholding his superior being worsted. Aggie wheeled on the detective.
+“Say, take me out of here,” she cried in a voice surcharged with
+disgust. “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 forward
+challengingly as she faced the Inspector, and her expression was
+resolute. “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 the
+Inspector 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 red
+lips 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 of
+humor, against which at times his professional labors strove mutinously.
+In the present instance, he had failed utterly to obtain any information
+of 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 to
+wound deeply his professional pride. Nevertheless, he bore no grudge
+against the adventuress. His sense of the absurd served him well, and he
+took a lively enjoyment in recalling the method by which her plausible
+wiles had beguiled him. He gave her a real respect for the adroitness
+with which she had deceived him--and he was not one to be readily
+deceived. So, now, as the scornful maiden went out of the door under the
+escort of Cassidy, Burke bowed gallantly to her lithe back, and blew
+a kiss from his thick fingertips, in mocking reverence for her as
+an artist in her way. Then, he seated himself, pressed the desk
+call-button, and, when he had learned that Edward Gilder was arrived,
+ordered that the magnate and the District Attorney be admitted, and that
+the son, also, be sent up from his cell.
+
+“It's a bad business, sir,” Burke said, with hearty sympathy, to the
+shaken father, after the formal greetings that followed the entrance of
+the two men. “It's a very bad business.”
+
+“What does he say?” Gilder questioned. There was something pitiful
+in the distress of this man, usually so strong and so certain of his
+course. Now, he was hesitant in his movements, and his mellow voice came
+more weakly than its wont. There was a pathetic pleading in the dulled
+eyes 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's
+a terrible position for my boy. But you'll release him at once, won't
+you?” Though he strove to put confidence into his words, his painful
+doubt was manifest.
+
+“I can't,” Burke replied, reluctantly, but bluntly. “You ought not to
+expect it, Mr. Gilder.”
+
+“But,” came the protest, delivered with much more spirit, “you know very
+well 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 I
+want 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 the
+room. He was pale, a little disheveled from his hours in a cell. He
+still wore his evening clothes of the night before. His face showed
+clearly the deepened lines, graven by the suffering to which he had been
+subjected, but there was no weakness in his expression. Instead, a new
+force that love and sorrow had brought out in his character was plainly
+visible. The strength of his nature was springing to full life under the
+stimulus of the ordeal through which he was passing.
+
+The father went forward quickly, and caught Dick's hands in a mighty
+grip.
+
+“My boy!” he murmured, huskily. Then, he made a great effort, and
+controlled his emotion to some extent. “The Inspector tells me,” he went
+on, “that you've refused to talk--to answer his questions.”
+
+Dick, too, winced under the pain of this meeting with his father in
+a situation so sinister. But he was, to some degree, apathetic from
+over-much misery. Now, in reply to his father's words, he only nodded a
+quiet assent.
+
+“That wasn't wise under the circumstances,” the father remonstrated
+hurriedly. “However, now, Demarest and I are here to protect your
+interests, so that you can talk freely.” He went on with a little catch
+of anxiety in his voice. “Now, Dick, tell us! Who killed that man? We
+must 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 went
+a step toward the young man. “Give the boy a chance,” he said, and his
+voice was very friendly as he went on speaking. “Dick, I don't want to
+frighten you, but your position is really a dangerous one. Your only
+chance is to speak with perfect frankness. I pledge you my word, I'm
+telling the truth, Dick.” There was profound concern in the lawyer's
+thin face, and his voice, trained to oratorical arts, was emotionally
+persuasive. “Dick, my boy, I want you to forget that I'm the District
+Attorney, and remember only that I'm an old friend of yours, and of your
+father'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 for
+knowledge, with the keen expectancy of the hunter on the trail, which
+was characteristic of him in his professional work. The District
+Attorney himself was less vitally eager, but his curiosity, as well as
+his wish to escape from an embarrassing situation, showed openly on
+his alert countenance. The heavy features of the father were twisting
+a little in nervous spasms, for to him this hour was all anguish, since
+his only son was in such horrible plight. Dick alone seemed almost
+tranquil, though the outward calm was belied by the flickering of his
+eyelids and the occasional involuntary movement of the lips. Finally he
+spoke, in a cold, weary voice.
+
+“I shot Griggs,” he said.
+
+Demarest realized subtly that his plea had failed, but he made ar effort
+to 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 pride
+aroused against this young man who so flagrantly repelled his attempts
+to learn the truth concerning the crime that had been committed. He
+resorted to familiar artifices for entangling one questioned.
+
+“Oh, I see!” he said, in a tone of conviction. “Now, let's go back a
+little. Burke says you told him last night that you had persuaded your
+wife to come over to the house, and join you there. Is that right?”
+
+“Yes.” The monosyllable was uttered indifferently. “And, while the two
+of you were talking,” Demarest continued in a matter-of-fact manner. He
+did 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 his
+questioning.
+
+“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 the
+revolver?”
+
+Dick started to answer without thought:
+
+“Why, I grabbed it----” Then, the significance of this crashed on his
+consciousness, and he checked the words trembling on his lips. His eyes,
+which had been downcast, lifted and glared on the questioner. “So,” he
+said 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, in
+dissembling, and he hid his chagrin perfectly. There was only reproach
+in his voice as he answered stoutly:
+
+“I am your friend, Dick.”
+
+But Burke would be no longer restrained. He had listened with increasing
+impatience to the diplomatic efforts of the District Attorney, which had
+ended in total rout. Now, he insisted on employing his own more drastic,
+and, as he believed, more efficacious, methods. He stood up, and spoke
+in his most threatening manner.
+
+“You don't want to take us for fools, young man,” he said, and his big
+tones rumbled harshly through the room. “If you shot Griggs in mistake
+for a burglar, why did you try to hide the fact? Why did you pretend
+to 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 you
+call for the police, as any honest man would naturally under such
+circumstances?”
+
+The arraignment was severely logical. Dick showed his appreciation of
+the justice of it in the whitening of his face, nor did he try to answer
+the charges thus hurled at him.
+
+The father, too, appreciated the gravity of the situation. His face was
+working, as if toward tears.
+
+“We're trying to save you,” he pleaded, tremulously.
+
+Burke persisted in his vehement system of attack. Now, he again brought
+out 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 wife
+first.” His voice became more aggressive. “I want to know what you've
+done 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 answered
+very 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 protect
+yourself.”
+
+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 your
+own sake, do it for mine.”
+
+The face of the young man softened as he met his father's beseeching
+eyes.
+
+“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 for
+solving 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 to
+understand the importance of what we've been saying pretty soon.” He
+scowled at Dick. “Now, young man,” he went on briskly, “you want to do
+a lot of quick thinking, and a lot of honest thinking, and, when you're
+ready 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 of
+determination.
+
+“I want to know about my wife. Where is she?”
+
+Burke disregarded the question as completely as if it had not been
+uttered, and went on speaking to the doorman with a suggestion in his
+words that was effective.
+
+“He's not to speak to any one, you understand.” Then he condescended to
+give 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 on
+his father, and there was a great tenderness in their depths. And he
+spoke very softly:
+
+“Dad, I'm sorry!”
+
+The father's gaze met the son's, and the eyes of the two locked. There
+was no other word spoken. Dick turned, and followed his custodian out
+of the office in silence. Even after the shutting of the door behind the
+prisoner, 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's
+trying to shield her.”
+
+“He's a loyal kid, at that,” Burke commented, with a grudging
+admiration. “I'll say that much for him.” His expression grew morose, as
+again he pressed the button on his desk. “And now,” he vouchsafed, “I'll
+show you the difference.” Then, as the doorman reappeared, he gave his
+order: “Dan, have the Turner woman brought up.” He regarded the two men
+with his bristling brows pulled down in a scowl. “I'll have to try a
+different game with her,” he said, thoughtfully. “She sure is one clever
+little dame. But, if she didn't do it herself, she knows who did, all
+right.” Again, Burke's voice took on its savage note. “And some one's
+got 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 very
+foundations of the work done by this department rest on the use of
+crooks, who are willing to betray their pals for coin. I told you a
+bit about it last night. Now, you understand, if Griggs's murder
+goes unpunished, it'll put the fear of God into the heart of every
+stool-pigeon we employ. And then where'd we be? Tell me that!”
+
+The Inspector next called his stenographer, and gave explicit
+directions. At the back of the room, behind the desk, were three large
+windows, which opened on a corridor, and across this was a tier of
+cells. The stenographer was to take his seat in this corridor, just
+outside one of the windows. Over the windows, the shades were drawn, so
+that he would remain invisible to any one within the office, while yet
+easily able to overhear every word spoken in the room.
+
+When he had completed his instructions to the stenographer, Burke turned
+to Gilder and Demarest.
+
+“Now, this time,” he said energetically, “I'll be the one to do the
+talking. And get this: Whatever you hear me say, don't you be surprised.
+Remember, we're dealing with crooks, and, when you're dealing with
+crooks, you have to use crooked ways.”
+
+There was a brief period of silence. Then, the door opened, and Mary
+Turner entered the office. She walked slowly forward, moving with the
+smooth strength and grace that were the proof of perfect health and of
+perfect poise, the correlation of mind and body in exactness. Her form,
+clearly revealed by the clinging evening dress, was a curving group of
+graces. The beauty of her face was enhanced, rather than lessened, by
+the pallor of it, for the fading of the richer colors gave to the fine
+features an expression more spiritual, made plainer the underlying
+qualities that her accustomed brilliance might half-conceal. She paid
+absolutely no attention to the other two in the room, but went straight
+to the desk, and there halted, gazing with her softly penetrant eyes of
+deepest violet into the face of the Inspector.
+
+Under that intent scrutiny, Burke felt a challenge, set himself to match
+craft with craft. He was not likely to undervalue the wits of one
+who had so often flouted him, who, even now, had placed him in a
+preposterous 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 casual
+manner.
+
+“I just sent for you to tell you that you're free.”
+
+Mary regarded the speaker with an impenetrable expression. Her tones as
+she spoke were quite as matter-of-fact as his own had been. In them was
+no 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 Gilder
+and Demarest, who were watching the scene closely. Her eyes were somehow
+appraising, but altogether indifferent. Then, she went toward the outer
+door of the office, still with that almost lackadaisical air.
+
+Burke waited rather impatiently until she had nearly reached the door
+before he shot his bolt, with a fine assumption of carelessness in the
+announcement.
+
+“Garson has confessed!”
+
+Mary, who readily enough had already guessed the essential hypocrisy of
+all this play, turned and confronted the Inspector, and answered without
+the 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 of
+any 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 learn
+whether or not Garson had been arrested. She spoke with a trace of
+indignation.
+
+“But how could he have done it, when he went----” she began.
+
+The Inspector fell a victim to her superior craft. His question came
+eagerly.
+
+“Where did he go?”
+
+Mary smiled for the first time since she had been in the room, and in
+that smile the Inspector realized his defeat in the first passage of
+this 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's
+chagrin. Gilder, staring always at this woman who had come to be his
+Nemesis, was marveling over the beauty and verve of the one so hating
+him as to plan the ruin of his life and his son's.
+
+Burke was frantic over being worsted thus. To gain a diversion, he
+reverted to his familiar bullying tactics. His question burst raspingly.
+It was a question that had come to be constant within his brain during
+the 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 capped
+the climax of the officer's exasperation.
+
+“My husband shot a burglar,” she said, languidly. And then her insolence
+reached its culmination in a query of her own: “Was his name Griggs?” It
+was done with splendid art, with a splendid mastery of her own emotions,
+for, even as she spoke the words, she was remembering those shuddering
+seconds when she had stood, only a few hours ago, gazing down at the
+inert bulk that had been a man.
+
+Burke betook himself to another form of attack.
+
+“Oh, you know better than that,” he declared, truculently. “You
+see, we've traced the Maxim silencer. Garson himself bought it up in
+Hartford.”
+
+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 had
+never seen one. Surely, if he had had anything of the sort, he would
+have shown it to me then.”
+
+“Probably he did, too!” Burke rejoined, without the least suspicion that
+his surly utterance touched the truth exactly. “Now, see here,” he went
+on, trying to make his voice affable, though with small success, for he
+was excessively irritated by these repeated failures; “I can make it a
+lot 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 cynical
+scorn.
+
+“I suppose,” she said, with a glance of contempt toward Demarest, “that
+it's useless for me to claim my constitutional rights, and demand to see
+a lawyer?”
+
+Burke, too, had cast off pretense at last.
+
+“Yes,” he agreed, with an evil smirk, “you've guessed it right, the
+first time.”
+
+Mary spoke to the District Attorney.
+
+“I believe,” she said, with a new dignity of bearing, “that such is my
+constitutional right, is it not, Mr. Demarest?”
+
+The lawyer sought no evasion of the issue. For that matter, he was
+coming to have an increasing respect, even admiration, for this young
+woman, who endured insult and ignominy with a spirit so sturdy, and
+met strategem with other strategem better devised. So, now, he made his
+answer with frank honesty.
+
+“It is your constitutional right, Miss Turner.”
+
+Mary turned her clear eyes on the Inspector, and awaited from that
+official a reply that was not forthcoming. Truth to tell, Burke was far
+from comfortable under that survey.
+
+“Well, Inspector?” she inquired, at last.
+
+Burke took refuge, as his wont was when too hard pressed, in a mighty
+bellow.
+
+“The Constitution don't go here!” It was the best he could do, and it
+shamed him, for he knew its weakness. Again, wrath surged in him, and
+it surged high. He welcomed the advent of Cassidy, who came hurrying in
+with a grin of satisfaction on his stolid face.
+
+“Say, Chief,” the detective said with animation, in response to Burke's
+glance of inquiry, “we've got Garson.”
+
+Mary's face fell, though the change of expression was almost
+imperceptible. Only Demarest, a student of much experience, observed the
+fleeting display of repressed emotion. When the Inspector took thought
+to look at her, she was as impassive as before. Yet, he was minded to
+try 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 she
+listened to his request, Mary smiled again in sphinx-like fashion, and
+there was still on her lips an expression that caused the official a
+pang of doubt, when, at last, the two were left alone together, and he
+darted a surreptitious glance toward her. Nevertheless, he pressed on
+his device valiantly.
+
+“Now,” he said, with a marked softening of manner, “I'm going to be your
+friend.”
+
+“Are you?” Mary's tone was non-committal.
+
+“Yes,” Burke declared, heartily. “And I mean it! Give up the truth about
+young Gilder. I know he shot Griggs, of course. But I'm not taking any
+stock 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's
+always been a worthless young cub. A rotten deal like this would
+be about his gait, I guess.... Tell me, now: Why did he shoot Eddie
+Griggs?”
+
+There was coarseness a-plenty in the Inspector's pretense, but it
+possessed a solitary fundamental virtue: it played on the heart of the
+woman whom he questioned, aroused it to wrath in defense of her mate. In
+a second, all poise fled from this girl whose soul was blossoming in the
+blest realization that a man loved her purely, unselfishly. Her words
+came stumblingly in their haste. Her eyes were near to black in their
+anger.
+
+“He didn't kill him! He didn't kill him!” she fairly hissed. “Why, he's
+the most wonderful man in the world. You shan't hurt him! Nobody shall
+hurt 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 won
+the victory over this woman's subtleties.
+
+“Well, that's just what I thought,” he said, with smug content. “And
+now, 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 the
+respectful in his manner, “why don't you start fresh? I'll give you
+every 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, vastly
+ashamed of the short period of self-betrayal caused by the official's
+artifice against her heart. As she listened to the Inspector's
+assurances, the mocking expression of her face was not encouraging to
+that astute individual, but he persevered manfully.
+
+“Just you wait,” he went on cheerfully, “and I'll prove to you that I'm
+on the level about this, that I'm really your friend.... There was a
+letter 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 out
+the single sheet of paper it contained. Mary watched him, wondering much
+more than her expression revealed over this new development. Then, as
+she listened, quick interest touched her features to a new life. In her
+eyes 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 a
+time that I won't remember it was me got you sent up, that you did time
+in my place. I ain't going to forgive myself ever, and I swear I'm going
+straight always.
+
+“Your true friend,
+
+“HELEN MORRIS.”
+
+For once, Burke showed a certain delicacy. When he had finished the
+reading, he said nothing for a long minute--only, sat with his cunning
+eyes 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 gentlewomanly
+loveliness of face, a loveliness intelligent and refined beyond that of
+most women, he felt borne in on his consciousness the fact that here
+was one to be respected. He fought against the impression. It was to him
+preposterous, for she was one of that underworld against which he was
+ruthlessly at war. Yet, he could not altogether overcome his instinct
+toward a half-reverent admiration.... And, as the letter proved, she
+had been innocent at the outset. She had been the victim of a mistaken
+justice, made outcast by the law she had never wronged.... His mood of
+respect was inevitable, since he had some sensibilities, though they
+were coarsened, and they sensed vaguely the maelstrom of emotions that
+now swirled in the girl's breast.
+
+To Mary Turner, this was the wonderful hour. In it, the vindication of
+her innocence was made complete. The story was there recorded in black
+and white on the page written by Helen Morris. It mattered little--or
+infinitely much!--that it came too late. She had gained her evil place
+in the world, was a notorious woman in fact, was even now a prisoner
+under suspicion of murder. Nevertheless, she felt a thrill of ecstasy
+over this written document--which it had never occurred to her to wrest
+from the girl at the time of the oral confession. Now that it had been
+proffered, the value of it loomed above almost all things else in the
+world. It proclaimed undeniably the wrong under which she had suffered.
+She was not the thief the court had adjudged her. “Now, there's nobody
+here but just you and me. Come on, now--put me wise!”
+
+Mary was again the resourceful woman who was glad to pit her brain
+against the contriving of those who fought her. So, at this moment, she
+seemed pliant to the will of the man who urged her thus cunningly. Her
+quick glance around the office was of a sort to delude the Inspector
+into 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 of
+victory 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 woman
+triumphant in her mastery of the situation. Her face was radiant,
+luminous with honest mirth. There was something simple and genuine
+in her beauty that thrilled the man before her, the man trying so
+vindictively to trap her to her own undoing. For all his grossness,
+Burke was of shrewd perceptions, and somewhere, half-submerged under
+the sordid nature of his calling, was a love of things esthetic, a
+responsiveness to the appeals of beauty. Now, as his glance searched
+the face of the girl who was bubbling with mirth, he experienced an odd
+warming of his heart under the spell of her loveliness--a loveliness
+wholly feminine, pervasive, wholesome. But, too, his soul shook in a
+premonition of catastrophe, for there was mischief in the beaming eyes
+of softest violet. There was a demon of mockery playing in the curves of
+the scarlet lips, as she smiled so winsomely.
+
+All his apprehensions were verified by her utterance. It came in a most
+casual voice, despite the dancing delight in her face. The tones were
+drawled in the matter-of-fact fashion of statement that leads a listener
+to answer without heed to the exact import of the question, unless very
+alert, 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, and
+went to the nearest window, and with a pull at the cord sent the shade
+flying upward. For seconds, there was revealed the busy stenographer,
+bent over his pad. Then, the noise of the ascending shade, which had
+been hammering on his consciousness, penetrated, and he looked up.
+Realization came, as he beheld the woman laughing at him through the
+window. Consternation beset him. He knew that, somehow, he had bungled
+fatally. A groan of distress burst from him, and he fled the place in
+ignominious 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 no
+avail against the clever interpretation of this woman whom he assailed.
+He had no defense to offer. He did not care to meet her gaze just
+then, since he was learning to respect her as one wronged, where he
+had regarded her hitherto merely as of the flotsam and jetsam of the
+criminal class. So, he avoided her eyes as she stood by the window
+regarding him quizzically. In a panic of confusion quite new to him in
+his years of experience, he pressed the button on his desk.
+
+The doorman appeared with that automatic precision which made him
+valuable in his position, and the Inspector hailed the ready presence
+with 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 resist
+the 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 a
+sing-song of mockery.
+
+The Inspector had nothing in the way of answer--only, sat motionless
+until the door closed after her. Then, left alone, his sole audible
+comment was a single word--one he had learned, perhaps, from Aggie
+Lynch:
+
+“Hell!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE CONFESSION.
+
+Burke was a persistent man, and he had set himself to getting the
+murderer of Griggs. Foiled in his efforts thus far by the opposition
+of Mary, he now gave himself over to careful thought as to a means
+of procedure that might offer the best possibilities of success. His
+beetling brows were drawn in a frown of perplexity for a full quarter
+of an hour, while he rested motionless in his chair, an unlighted
+cigar between his lips. Then, at last, his face cleared; a grin of
+satisfaction 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 his
+subject 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 Chicago
+Red and Dacey here?”
+
+“No,” Cassidy replied. “He hasn't been spoken to since we made the
+collar.... He seems worried,” the detective volunteered.
+
+Burke's broad jowls shook from the force with which he snapped his jaws
+together.
+
+“He'll be more worried before I get through with him!” he growled.
+He regarded Cassidy speculatively. “Do you remember the Third Degree
+Inspector Burns worked on McGloin? Well,” he went on, as the detective
+nodded assent, “that's what I'm going to do to Garson. He's got
+imagination, that crook! The things he don't know about are the things
+he's afraid of. After he gets in here, I want you to take his pals one
+after 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 see
+them taken in. The fact of their being there will set his imagination to
+working overtime, all right.”
+
+Burke reflected for a moment, and then issued the final directions for
+the execution of his latest plot.
+
+“When you get the buzzer from me, you have young Gilder and the Turner
+woman sent in. Then, after a while, you'll get another buzzer. When you
+hear 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 to
+come in.”
+
+As the detective went out, the doorman promptly entered, and thereat
+Burke proceeded with the further instructions necessary to the carrying
+out of his scheme.
+
+“Take the chairs out of the office, Dan,” he directed, “except mine and
+one other--that one!” He indicated a chair standing a little way from
+one end of his desk. “Now, have all the shades up.” He chuckled as he
+added: “That Turner woman saved you the trouble with one.”
+
+As the doorman went out after having fulfilled these commands, the
+Inspector lighted the cigar which he had retained still in his mouth,
+and then seated himself in the chair that was set partly facing the
+windows opening on the corridor. He smiled with anticipatory triumph as
+he made sure that the whole length of the corridor with the barred
+doors of the cells was plainly visible to one sitting thus. With a final
+glance about to make certain that all was in readiness, he returned to
+his chair, and, when the door opened, he was, to all appearances, busily
+engaged 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 the
+door.
+
+“Sit down, a minute, won't you?” the Inspector continued, affably. He
+did not look up from his writing as he spoke.
+
+Garson's usually strong face was showing weak with fear. His chin, which
+was commonly very firm, moved a little from uneasy twitchings of his
+lips. His clear eyes were slightly clouded to a look of apprehension,
+as they roved the room furtively. He made no answer to the Inspector's
+greeting 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 the
+paper.
+
+“Who told you you were arrested?” he remarked, cheerfully, in his
+blandest voice.
+
+Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust.
+
+“I don't have to be told,” he retorted, huffily. “I'm no college
+president, but, when a cop grabs me and brings me down here, I've got
+sense enough to know I'm pinched.”
+
+The Inspector did not interrupt his work, but answered with the utmost
+good nature.
+
+“Is that what they did to you, Joe? I'll have to speak to Cassidy about
+that. Now, just you sit down, Joe, won't you? I want to have a little
+talk with you. I'll be through here in a second.” He went on with the
+writing.
+
+Garson moved forward slightly, to the single chair near the end of the
+desk, and there seated himself mechanically. His face thus was turned
+toward the windows that gave on the corridor, and his eyes grew yet more
+clouded as they rested on the grim doors of the cells. He writhed in his
+chair, and his gaze jumped from the cells to the impassive figure of
+the man at the desk. Now, the forger's nervousness increased momently it
+swept beyond his control. Of a sudden, he sprang up, and stepped close
+to 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 with
+that imperturbable air, and without raising his head from the work that
+so 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 me
+finish this letter.”
+
+Slowly, very hesitatingly, Garson went back to the chair, and sank
+down on it in a limp attitude of dejection wholly unlike his customary
+postures of strength. Again, his fear-fascinated eyes went to the row
+of cells that stood silently menacing on the other side of the corridor
+beyond the windows. His face was tinged with gray. A physical sickness
+was creeping stealthily on him, as his thoughts held insistently to the
+catastrophe that threatened. His intelligence was too keen to permit
+a belief that Burke's manner of almost fulsome kindliness hid nothing
+ominous--ominous with a hint of death for him in return for the death he
+had wrought.
+
+Then, terror crystallized. His eyes were caught by a figure, the figure
+of Cassidy, advancing there in the corridor. And with the detective
+went a man whose gait was slinking, craven. A cell-door swung open, the
+prisoner stepped within, the door clanged to, the bolts shot into their
+sockets noisily.
+
+Garson sat huddled, stricken--for he had recognized the victim thrust
+into the cell before his eyes.... It was Dacey, one of his own cronies
+in crime--Dacey, who, the night before, had seen him kill Eddie Griggs.
+There was something concretely sinister to Garson in this fact of
+Dacey'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 cry
+dropped into unintelligible mumblings.
+
+Burke retained his manner of serene indifference to the other's
+agitation. Still, his pen hurried over the paper; and he did not trouble
+to look up as he expostulated, half-banteringly.
+
+“Now, now! What's the matter with you, Joe? I told you that I wanted to
+ask you a few questions. That's all.”
+
+Garson leaped to his feet again resolutely, then faltered, and
+ultimately fell back into the chair with a groan, as the Inspector went
+on speaking.
+
+“Now, Joe, sit down, and keep still, I tell you, and let me get through
+with 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 words
+that were now held back by horror. Again, he saw the detective walking
+forward, out there in the corridor. And with him, as before, was a
+second figure, which advanced slinkingly. Garson leaned forward in his
+chair, his head thrust out, watching in rigid suspense. Again, even
+as before, the door swung wide, the prisoner slipped within, the door
+clanged shut, the bolts clattered noisily into their sockets.
+
+And, in the watcher, terror grew--for he had seen the face of Chicago
+Red, another of his pals, another who had seen him kill Griggs. For a
+time that seemed to him long ages of misery, Garson sat staring dazedly
+at the closed doors of the tier of cells. The peril about him was
+growing--growing, and it was a deadly peril! At last, he licked his dry
+lips, 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 a
+voice 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 appear
+calm. “Why, what makes you think that? But this ain't exactly the place
+you'd pick out as a pleasant one to spend the morning.” He was silent
+for 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 in
+his 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 was
+silent, 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, had
+caused him to forget his own mortal danger. Where, before, he had been
+shuddering over thoughts of the death-house cell that might be awaiting
+him, 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 that
+his own folly, in disobedience to her command, had led up to the murder
+of Griggs--and to all that might come of the crime. How could he ever
+make amends to her? At least, he could be brave here, for her sake, if
+not for his own.
+
+Burke believed that his opportunity was come.
+
+“What made you think I wanted to know anything about her?” he
+questioned.
+
+“Oh, I can't exactly say,” Garson replied carelessly, in an attempt to
+dissimulate his agitation. “You were up to the house, you know. Don't
+you see?”
+
+“I did want to see her, that's a fact,” Burke admitted. He kept on with
+his writing, his head bent low. “But she wasn't at her flat. I guess she
+must 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 in
+his voice. His hand slipped into the pocket where was the pistol, and
+clutched it. He stared at Garson fiercely, and spoke with a rush of the
+words:
+
+“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 to
+swallow 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 the
+instant, 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 last
+the crisis was upon him. He got to his feet with lithe swiftness
+of movement, and sprang close to the desk. He bent his head forward
+challengingly, to meet the glare of his accuser's eyes. There was no
+flinching in his own steely stare. His nerves had ceased their jangling
+under the tautening of necessity.
+
+“You did!” Burke vociferated. He put his whole will into the assertion
+of guilt, to batter down the man's resistance. “You did, I tell you! You
+did!”
+
+Garson leaned still further forward, until his face was almost level
+with the Inspector's. His eyes were unclouded now, were blazing. His
+voice 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, will
+warring against will.... In the end, it was the murderer who triumphed.
+
+Suddenly, Burke dropped the pistol into his pocket, and lolled back in
+his chair. His gaze fell away from the man confronting him. In the same
+instant, the rigidity of Garson's form relaxed, and he straightened
+slowly. A tide of secret joy swept through him, as he realized his
+victory. 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 the
+Inspector'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 can
+bet on that!”
+
+Garson resisted the lure.
+
+“If you don't want me----” he began suggestively; and he turned toward
+the door to the outer hall. “Why, if you don't want me, I'll--get
+along.”
+
+“Oh, what's the hurry, Joe?” Burke retorted, with the effect of stopping
+the 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 him
+with appalling force. Of what avail his safety, if she were still in
+peril?
+
+“I don't know where she was,” he exclaimed, doubtfully. He realized his
+blunder even as the words left his lips, and sought to correct it as
+best he might. “Why, yes, I do, too,” he went on, as if assailed by
+sudden memory. “I dropped into her place kind of late, and they said
+she'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 point
+was of itself suspicious, but eagerness to protect her stultified his
+wits.
+
+Burke sat grim and silent, offering no comment on the lie.
+
+“Know anything about young Gilder?” he demanded. “Happen to know where
+he is now?” He arose and came around the desk, so that he stood close to
+Garson, at whom he glowered.
+
+“Not a thing!” was the earnest answer. But the speaker's fear rose
+swiftly, for the linking of these names was significant--frightfully
+significant!
+
+The inner door opened, and Mary Turner entered the office. Garson with
+difficulty suppressed the cry of distress that rose to his lips. For
+a few moments, the silence was unbroken. Then, presently, Burke, by a
+gesture, directed the girl to advance toward the center of the room.
+As she obeyed, he himself went a little toward the door, and, when it
+opened again, and Dick Gilder appeared, he interposed to check the young
+man's rush forward as his gaze fell on his bride, who stood regarding
+him with sad eyes.
+
+Garson stared mutely at the burly man in uniform who held their
+destinies in the hollow of a hand. His lips parted as if he were about
+to speak. Then, he bade defiance to the impulse. He deemed it safer for
+all that he should say nothing--now!... And it is very easy to say
+a word too many. And that one may be a word never to be unsaid--or
+gainsaid.
+
+Then, while still that curious, dynamic silence endured, Cassidy came
+briskly into the office. By some magic of duty, he had contrived to give
+his 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 voice
+came smug:
+
+“Squealed, eh?” His glance ran over Garson for a second, then made
+its inquisition of Mary and of Dick Gilder. He did not give a look to
+Cassidy as he put his question. “Do they tell the same story?” And then,
+when the detective had answered in the affirmative, he went on speaking
+in tones ponderous with self-complacency; and, now, his eyes held
+sharply, craftily, on the woman.
+
+“I was right then, after all--right, all the time! Good enough!” Of
+a sudden, his voice boomed somberly. “Mary Turner, I want you for the
+murder of----”
+
+Garson's rush halted the sentence. He had leaped forward. His face was
+rigid. He broke on the Inspector's words with a gesture of fury. His
+voice 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 no
+hesitation 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 law
+that were closing around her. For himself, in the days to come, there
+would be a ghastly dread, but there would never be regret over the
+cost of saving her. Perhaps, some other he might have let suffer in his
+stead--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 had
+saved her from the waters--he would save her until the end, as far
+as the power in him might lie. It was thus that, with the primitive
+directness of his reverential love for the girl, he counted no sacrifice
+too great in her behalf. Joe Garson was not a good man, at the world
+esteems goodness. On the contrary, he was distinctly an evil one,
+a menace to the society on which he preyed constantly. But his good
+qualities, if few, were of the strongest fiber, rooted in the deeps of
+him. 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 deceit
+had been designed to bring affluence to her. It was his abhorrence
+of treachery among pals that had driven him to the murder of the
+stool-pigeon in a fit of ungovernable passion. He might have stayed his
+hand then, but for the gusty rage that swept him on to the crime. None
+the less, had he spared the man, his hatred of the betrayer would have
+been the same.... And the other virtue of Joe Garson was the complement
+of this--his own loyalty, a loyalty that made him forget self utterly
+where 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 was
+frozen 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 thence
+surveyed the agitated group with grisly pleasure.
+
+“Joe has talked,” he said, significantly.
+
+Mary, shaken as she was by the fact of Garson's confession, nevertheless
+retained her presence of mind sufficiently to resist with all her
+strength.
+
+“He did it to protect me,” she stated, earnestly.
+
+The Inspector disdained such futile argument. As the doorman appeared in
+answer to the buzzer, he directed that the stenographer be summoned at
+once.
+
+“We'll have the confession in due form,” he remarked, gazing pleasedly
+on 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 against
+you.” Then, as the stenographer entered, he went on with lively
+interest. “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'd
+get you. I'm going to try you and Garson, and the whole gang for
+murder--yes, every one of you.... And you, Gilder,” he continued,
+lowering on the young man who had defied him so obstinately, “you'll go
+to the House of Detention as a material witness.” He turned his gaze to
+Garson 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 an
+afterthought, with a nod toward Dick Gilder.
+
+“Oh, Joe, don't!” Mary cried, bitterly. “We'll spend every dollar we can
+raise 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 sure
+he's our man, he hasn't got a chance in the world.”
+
+“Well, how about it?” Garson demanded, savagely. “Do they go clear, if I
+come 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 was
+no trace of yielding in his voice as he replied, though he spoke very
+sorrowfully.
+
+“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's
+the use of dragging you two into it?”
+
+“Then, they go clear?” Garson exclaimed, eagerly. “They ain't even to be
+called as witnesses?”
+
+Burke nodded assent.
+
+“You're on!” he agreed.
+
+“Then, here goes!” Garson cried; and he looked expectantly toward the
+stenographer.
+
+The strain of it all was sapping the will of the girl, who saw the man
+she so greatly esteemed for his service to her and his devotion about
+to condemn himself to death. She grew half-hysterical. Her words came
+confusedly:
+
+“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 going
+through with it.” He straightened a little, and again looked at the
+stenographer. 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 shot
+English Eddie, because he was a skunk, and a stool-pigeon, and he got
+just what was coming to him.” Vituperation beyond the mere words beat in
+his voice now.
+
+Burke twisted uneasily in his chair.
+
+“Now, now!” he objected, severely. “We can't take a confession like
+that.”
+
+Garson shook his head--spoke with fiercer hatred, “because he was a
+skunk, and a stool-pigeon,” he repeated. “Have you got it?” And then, as
+the stenographer nodded assent, he went on, less violently: “I croaked
+him just as he was going to call the bulls with a police-whistle. I used
+a gun with smokeless powder. It had a Maxim silencer on it, so that it
+didn'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. It
+was born of the eternal egotism of the criminal, fattening vanity in
+gloating over his ingenuity for evil. Garson, despite his two great
+virtues, had the vices of his class. Now, he stared at Burke with a
+quizzical grin crooking his lips.
+
+“Say,” he exclaimed, “I'll bet it's the first time a guy was ever
+croaked with one of them things! Ain't it?”
+
+The Inspector nodded affirmation. There was sincere admiration in
+his expression, for he was ready at all times to respect the personal
+abilities 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 air
+of boasting. “I got the gun, and the Maxim-silencer thing, off a fence
+in Boston,” he explained. “Say, that thing cost me sixty dollars, and
+it's worth every cent of the money.... Why, they'll remember me as the
+first 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 manner
+abruptly.
+
+At the words, Mary started, and her lips moved as if she were about to
+speak.
+
+Garson, intent on her always, though he seemed to look only at Burke,
+observed the effect on her, and repeated his words swiftly, with a
+warning emphasis that gave the girl pause.
+
+“Nobody knew I had it--nobody in the world!” he declared. “And nobody
+had anything to do with the killing but me.”
+
+Burke put a question that was troubling him much, concerning the motive
+that 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 what
+he'd framed up with you.” The speaker's voice reverted to its former
+fierceness 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 detestation
+for the slain man, yet there was something morbidly distasteful in the
+thought that he himself had contrived the situation which had resulted
+in the murder of his confederate. It was only by an effort that he shook
+off 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. He
+was a skunk. That's all, and it's enough. And it's all true, so help me
+God!”
+
+The Inspector nodded dismissal to the stenographer, with an air of
+relief.
+
+“That's all, Williams,” he said, heavily. “He'll sign it as soon as
+you've transcribed the notes.”
+
+Then, as the stenographer left the room, Burke turned his gaze on the
+woman, who stood there in a posture of complete dejection, her white,
+anguished face downcast. There was triumph in the Inspector's voice
+as he addressed her, for his professional pride was full-fed by this
+victory over his foes. But there was, too, an undertone of a feeling
+softer than pride, more generous, something akin to real commiseration
+for this unhappy girl who drooped before him, suffering so poignantly
+in the knowledge of the fate that awaited the man who had saved her, who
+had loved her so unselfishly.
+
+“Young woman,” Burke said briskly, “it's just like I told you. You can't
+beat the law. Garson thought he could--and now----!” He broke off, with
+a wave of his hand toward the man who had just sentenced himself to
+death in the electric-chair.
+
+“That's right,” Garson agreed, with somber intensity. His eyes were
+grown clouded again now, and his voice dragged leaden. “That's right,
+Mary,” he repeated dully, after a little pause. “You can't beat the
+law!”
+
+There followed a period of silence, in which great emotions were vibrant
+from 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. His
+eyes shot a single swift glance toward Dick Gilder, and his satisfaction
+increased as he noted the alert poise of the young man's body, the
+strained expression of the strong face, the gaze of absorbed yearning
+with which he regarded Mary. There could be no doubt concerning the
+depth of the lad's love for the girl. Moreover, there were manly
+qualities in him to work out all things needful for her protection
+through life. Already, he had proved his devotion, and that abundantly,
+his unswerving fidelity to her, and the force within him that made these
+worthy in some measure of her.
+
+Garson felt no least pang of jealousy. Though he loved the woman with
+the single love of his life, he had never, somehow, hoped aught for
+himself. There was even something almost of the paternal in the purity
+of his love, as if, indeed, by the fact of restoring her to life he had
+taken on himself the responsibility of a parent. He knew that the boy
+worshiped her, would do his best for her, that this best would suffice
+for her happiness in time. Garson, with the instinct of love, guessed
+that Mary had in truth given her heart all unaware to the husband whom
+she had first lured only for the lust of revenge. Garson nodded his
+head in a melancholy satisfaction. His life was done: hers was just
+beginning, now.... But she would remember him--oh, yes, always! Mary was
+loyal.
+
+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 certain
+dignity.
+
+“No, you can't beat the law!” He hesitated a little, then went on, with
+a certain curious embarrassment. “And this same old law says a woman
+must 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 gaze
+returned to her. There was a smoldering despair in that look. There
+were, as well, an entreaty and a command.
+
+“So,” he went on, “you must go along with him, Mary.... Won't you? It's
+the 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 as
+he was to scenes of dramatic violence, now experienced an altogether
+unfamiliar thrill. As for Garson, once again the surge of feeling
+threatened to overwhelm his self-control. He must not break down! For
+Mary's sake, he must show himself stoical, quite undisturbed in this
+supreme 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 boasting
+again, would call upon his vanity, which he knew well as his chief
+foible, and make it serve as the foil against his love. He strove
+manfully to throw off the softer mood. In a measure, at least, he
+won the fight--though always, under the rush of this vaunting, there
+throbbed 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 something
+new 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, and
+my picture, too, in most of 'em! What?”
+
+The man's manner imposed on Burke, though Mary felt the torment that his
+vainglorying was meant to mask.
+
+“Say,” Garson continued to the Inspector, “if the reporters want any
+pictures of me, could I have some new ones taken? The one you've got of
+me in the Gallery is over ten years old. I've taken off my beard since
+then. Can I have a new one?” He put the question with an eagerness that
+seemed 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 tremor
+that had seized him.
+
+“So long, young fellow!” he exclaimed, and held out his hand. “You've
+been on the square, and I guess you always will be.”
+
+Dick had no scruple in clasping that extended hand very warmly in his
+own. He had no feeling of repulsion against this man who had committed
+a murder in his presence. Though he did not quite understand the other's
+heart, his instinct as a lover taught him much, so that he pitied
+profoundly--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 as
+he could contrive. Then, at last, he turned to Mary. This parting must
+be bitter, and he braced himself with all the vigors of his will to
+combat the weakness that leaped from his soul.
+
+As he came near, the girl could hold herself in leash no longer. She
+threw herself on his breast. Her arms wreathed about his neck. Great
+sobs racked her.
+
+“Oh, Joe, Joe!” The gasping cry was of utter despair.
+
+Garson's trembling hand patted the girl's shoulder very softly, a caress
+of 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 the
+sobs of the girl caught in his own throat. Yet, presently, he strove
+once again, with every reserve of his strength; and, finally, he so far
+mastered himself that he could speak calmly. The words were uttered with
+a 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 with
+about three kiddies playing round the house.”
+
+He looked up over the girl's shoulder, and beckoned with his head to
+Dick, 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 within
+the arms of her husband, where she rested quietly, as if unable to fight
+longer against fate's decree.
+
+“Well, so long!”
+
+He dared not utter another word, but turned blindly, and went, stumbling
+a little, toward the doorman, who had appeared in answer to the
+Inspector's call.
+
+“To the Gallery,” Burke ordered, curtly.
+
+Garson went on without ever a glance back.... His strength was at an
+end.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+There was a long silence in the room after Garson's passing. It was
+broken, at last, by the Inspector, who got up from his chair, and
+advanced toward the husband and wife. In his hand, he carried a sheet of
+paper, roughly scrawled. As he stopped before the two, and cleared
+his throat, Mary withdrew herself from Dick's arms, and regarded the
+official with brooding eyes from out her white face. Something strange
+in her enemy's expression caught her attention, something that set new
+hopes alive within her in a fashion wholly inexplicable, so that she
+waited 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 Helen
+Morris, in which she sets forth the interesting fact that she pulled off
+a theft in the Emporium, for which your Mrs. Gilder here did time. You
+know, your father got your Mrs. Gilder sent up for three years for that
+same job--which she didn't do! That's why she had such a grudge against
+your 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 and
+done.... You give that document to your father. It sets her right. He's
+a just man according to his lights, your father. He'll do all he can to
+make 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 two
+listen. I've got to go out a minute. When I get back, I don't want to
+find anybody here--not anybody! Do you get me?”
+
+He strode from the room, fearful lest further delay might involve him
+in sentimental thanksgivings from one or the other, or both--and Burke
+hated sentiment as something distinctly unprofessional.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+When the official was gone, the two stood staring mutely each at the
+other through long seconds. What she read in the man's eyes set the
+woman's heart to beating with a new delight. A bloom of exquisite rose
+grew in the pallor of her cheeks. The misty light in the violet eyes
+shone more radiant, yet more softly. The crimson lips curved to strange
+tenderness.... What he read in her eyes set the husband's pulses to
+bounding. He opened his arms in an appeal that was a command. Mary went
+forward slowly, without hesitation, in a bliss that forgot every sorrow
+for that blessed moment, and cast herself on his breast.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Within the Law, by Marvin Dana
+
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