don't get nothing else out of me--except that
she is a perfectly lovely young woman, and your money couldn't be safer
with the president of the United States."

The puzzled professor of Comparative Literature caressed his bald head
thoughtfully. "I--er--" he remarked. Mr. Magee could have embraced this
faded woman for her news. He looked at his watch. It was twelve-twenty.

"The siege is over," he cried. "I shall not attempt to direct your
actions any longer. Mr. Peters, will you please go down to the village
and bring back Mr. Quimby and--the coroner?"

"The coroner!" The mayor of Reuton jumped to his feet. "I don't want to
be in on any inquest scene. Come on, Max, let's get out of here."

Bland stood up, his face was white and worried, his gay plumage no
longer set the tone for his mood.

"I think I'll go, too," he announced, looking hopefully at Magee.

"I'm no longer your jailer," Magee said. "Professor, these gentlemen are
your witnesses Do you wish to detain them?"

"See here," cried the mayor angrily, "there ain't no question but that
you can find me in Reuton any time you want me. At the little room on
Main Street--anybody can tell you my hours--the door's always open to
any reformer that has the nerve to climb the stairs. Look me up there.
I'll make it interesting for you."

"I certainly shall," the professor replied. "And very soon. Until then
you may go when and where you please."

"Thanks," sneered the mayor. "I'll expect you. I'll be ready. I've had
to get ready to answer your kind before. You think you got me, eh? Well,
you're a fool to think that. As for Drayton, the pup, the
yellow-streaked pup--I'll talk to Mister Drayton when I get back to
Reuton."

"Before you go, Bland," remarked Magee, smiling, "I want to ask about
Arabella. Where did you get her?"

"Some of it happened to a friend of mine," the ex-haberdasher answered,
"a friend that keeps a clothing store. I got this suit there. I changed
the story, here and there. He didn't write her no note, though he
thought seriously of it. And he didn't run away and hide. The last I
seen of him he was testing the effect of the heart-balm on sale behind
the swinging doors."

Mr. Magee laughed, but over the long lean face of Bland not the ghost of
a smile flitted. He was frightened, through and through.

"You're a fine bunch," sneered Mr. Max. "Reformers, eh? Well, you'll get
what the rest of 'em always got. We'll tie you up in knots and leave y