rilling which more than atoned for any which the police tyrant had
previously made his victims suffer. In the limelight of a sensational
trial, in which public servants were charged with abusing positions of
trust, he showed Captain Clinton up as a bully and a grafter, a
bribe-taker, working hand and glove with dishonest politicians, not
hesitating even to divide loot with thieves and dive-keepers in his
greed for wealth. He proved him to be a consummate liar, a man who would
stop at nothing to gain his own ends. What jury would take the word of
such a man as this? Yet this was the man who still insisted that Howard
Jeffries was guilty of the shooting of Robert Underwood!

But public opinion was too intelligent to be hoodwinked for any length
of time by a brutal and ignorant policeman. There was a clamor for the
prisoner's release. The evidence was such that further delay was
inexcusable. The district attorney, thus urged, took an active interest
in the case, and after going over the new evidence with Judge Brewster,
went before the court and made formal application for the dismissal of
the complaint. A few days later Howard Jeffries left the Tombs amid the
cheers of a crowd assembled outside. At his side walked his wife, now
smiling through tears of joy.

It was a glad home-coming to the little flat in Harlem. To Howard, after
spending so long a time in the narrow prison quarters, it seemed like
paradise, and Annie walked on air, so delighted was she to have him with
her again. Yet there were still anxieties to cloud their happiness. The
close confinement, with its attendant worry, had seriously undermined
Howard's health. He was pale and attenuated, and so weak that he had
several fainting spells. Much alarmed, Annie summoned Dr. Bernstein,
who administered a tonic. There was nothing to cause anxiety, he said
reassuringly. It was a natural reaction after what her husband had
undergone. But it was worry as much as anything else. Howard worried
about his father, with whom he was only partially reconciled; he worried
about his future, which was as precarious as ever, and most of all he
worried about his wife. He was not ignorant of the circumstances which
had brought about his release, and while liberty was sweet to him, it
had been a terrible shock when he first heard that she was the woman who
had visited Underwood's rooms. He refused to believe her sworn evidence.
How was it possible? Why should she go to Underwood's