room of
a small printing shop in the heart of the city. It went on to the
accompaniment of the rhythmic throb of the presses, and while two
printers, in their shirt sleeves, kept guard both at the front and rear
entrances.

Doyle sat with his back to the light, and seated across from him,
smoking a cheap cigar, was the storekeeper from Friendship, Cusick. In a
corner on the table, scowling, sat Louis Akers.

"I don't know why you're so damned suspicious, Jim," he was saying.
"Cusick says the stall about the Federal agents went all right."

"Like a house a-fire," said Cusick, complacently.

"I think, Akers," Doyle observed, eyeing his subordinate, "that you
are letting your desire to get this Cameron fellow run away with your
judgment. If we get him and Denslow, there are a hundred ready to take
their places."

"Cameron is the brains of the outfit," Akers said sulkily.

"How do you know Cameron will go?"

Akers rose lazily and stretched himself.

"I've got a hunch. That's all."

A girl came in from the composing room, a bundle of proofs in her hand.
With one hand Akers took the sheets from her; with the other he settled
his tie. He smiled down at her.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Ellen was greatly disturbed. At three o'clock that afternoon she found
Edith and announced her intention of going out.

"I guess you can get the supper for once," she said ungraciously.

Edith looked up at her with wistful eyes.

"I wish you didn't hate me so, Ellen."

"I don't hate you." Ellen was slightly mollified. "But when I see you
trying to put your burdens on other people--"

Edith got up then and rather timidly put her arms around Ellen's neck.

"I love him so, Ellen," she whispered, "and I'll try so hard to make him
happy."

Unexpected tears came into Ellen's eyes. She stroked the girl's fair
hair.

"Never mind," she said. "The Good Man's got a way of fixing things to
suit Himself. And I guess He knows best. We do what it's foreordained we
do, after all."

Mrs. Boyd was sleeping. Edith went back to her sewing. She had depended
all her life on her mother's needle, and now that that had failed her
she was hastily putting some clothing into repair. In the kitchen near
the stove the suit she meant to be married in was hung to dry, after
pressing. She was quietly happy.

Willy Cameron found her there. He told her of Mrs. Davis' death, and
then placed the license on the table at her side.

"I think it would be better