eep whatever she had
in mind a secret.

"Well?" he asked, still unable to understand.

"If mother ever found out that I was at the picture show today I'd be in
a peck of trouble," she said. "She won't let me go to the movies at all
and I have to sneak away and I do enjoy them so much. Now you won't tell
your mother or my mother or anyone, will you?"

"Of course not," he answered, smiling.

"Oh, thanks ever and ever so much," she said, and turning, hurried
homeward.

That was it, he thought as he waited for his car. Mrs. Sprockett could
find time to run around the neighborhood telling others what to do, what
not to do, what should be done and what shouldn't be done, but she
couldn't be obeyed even by her own daughter! All the way uptown and
until he turned into the narrow, foul-aired stairway leading up to
Murphy's room, Mrs. Sprockett and Alma, his mother and Consuello were
jumbled in his thoughts.

He rapped on the panel of the door of Murphy's room at the end of the
dark, dingy hall. When he received no response he turned the knob and
pushed against the door, which held fast. Discovering that it was locked
he hesitated a moment to decide whether to wait or leave and return
later.

A moan, a deep gasping sound, came to his ears. He started and put his
ear to the crack of the door. Another moan, fainter than before, sounded
in the room.

"Murphy!" he called.

There was no answer from beyond the door, not even a moan. John shook
the handle.

"Murphy! Murphy! Is that you? Are you hurt?" he shouted.

No answer, no sound. He put his shoulder to the door and, bracing
himself, pushed with all his strength against it, but it held firm.
Stepping back he swung a kick against a lower panel. The wood broke and
splintered. He dropped to his knees and tore the split pieces out with
his hands.

Through the hole in the panel he saw the key "Slim" Gray had tossed back
into the room over the transom. Reaching his arm through the opening he
picked it up and, opening the door, rushed into the room.

The twisted, broken, beaten figure of Murphy lay on the floor near the
foot of the bed. The awfulness of the sight turned John sick and with a
choking cry of pity and despair he dropped to his knees beside it.

"Murphy! Murphy!" he cried. "What have they done to you? Can you hear
me? Speak to me, Murphy, speak to me."

The head of the "bashed" youth rolled limply from side to side and he
groaned unconsciously. John shut hi