ion of the proper method of procedure in treating his
prisoners had hardened him and made him brutal. Secretly he felt sorry
for this plucky, energetic little woman who had such unbounded faith in
her good-for-nothing husband, and was ready to fight all alone in his
defense. Eyeing her with renewed interest, he demanded:

"What are you going to do now?"

Annie reached the door, and drawing herself up to her full height,
turned and said:

"I'm going to undo all you have done, Captain Clinton. I'm going to free
my husband and prove his innocence before the whole world. I don't know
how I'm going to do it, but I'll do it. I'll fight you, captain, to the
last ditch, and I'll rescue my poor husband from your clutches if it
takes everything I possess in the world."

Quickly she opened the door and disappeared.

CHAPTER XII.

The American dearly loves a sensation, and the bigger and more
blood-curdling it is the better. Nothing is more gratifying on arising
in the morning and sitting down to partake of a daintily served
breakfast than to glance hurriedly over the front page of one's favorite
newspaper and see it covered with startling headlines. It matters little
what has happened during the night to shock the community, so long as it
satisfies one's appetite for sensational news. It can be a fatal
conflagration, a fearful railroad wreck, a gigantic bank robbery, a
horrible murder, or even a scandalous divorce case. All one asks is that
it be something big, with column after column of harrowing details. The
newspapers are fully alive to what is expected of them, but it is not
always easy to supply the demand. There are times when the metropolis
languishes for news of any description. There are no disastrous fires,
trains run without mishap, burglars go on a vacation, society leaders
act with decorum--in a word the city is deadly dull. Further
consideration of the tariff remains the most thrilling topic the
newspapers can find to write about.

The murder at the aristocratic Astruria, therefore, was hailed by the
editors as a unmixed journalistic blessing, and they proceeded to play
it up for all it was worth. All the features of a first-class sensation
were present. The victim, Robert Underwood, was well known in society
and a prominent art connoisseur. The place where the crime was committed
was one of the most fashionable of New York's hostelries. The presumed
assassin was a college man and the son of one of t