vulsively fumbled at the
corduroy coat, which he had doubtless worn long before he ever sought
the portals of the Land of Liberty.

"Oh, signor. Data night Beppo he was talk to de policaman, justa like
me. He say no word, but dat beega man he musta watch, for desa
gang-men dey busta de stand, and dey tella Beppo to geet out or dey
busta heem. Beppo he tell me I can hava de stand eef I pay him some
eacha week. I take it--and now I am afraid de busta me!"

Bobbie laid a comforting hand upon the man's heaving shoulder.

"There, don't you worry. Don't tell anyone else you're his cousin, and
I won't either. You don't need to be afraid of these gang-men. Just
be careful and yell for the police. The trouble with you Italians is
that you are afraid to tell the police anything when you are treated
badly. Your cousin should have reported this case to the Ellis Island
authorities. They would have traced that girl and saved her."

The man looked gratefully into Burke's eyes, as the tears ran down his
face.

"Oh, signor, eef all de police were lika you we be not afraid."

Just then he dropped his eyes, and Burke noticed that his hand trembled
as he suddenly reached for a big orange and held it up. The man spoke
with a surprising constraint, still holding his look upon the fruit.

"Signor, here's a fine orange. You wanta buy heem?" In a whisper he
added: "Eet is de bigga man who told my cousin to get outa da country!"

Bobbie in astonishment turned around and beheld two pedestrians who
were walking slowly past, both staring curiously at the Italian.

He gave an exclamation of surprise as he noticed that one of the men
was no less a personage than Jimmie the Monk. The man with him was a
big, raw-boned Bowery character of pugilistic build.

"Why, I thought that scoundrel would have been tried and sentenced by
this time," murmured the officer. "I know they told me his case had
been postponed by his lawyer, an alderman. But this is one on me."

The smaller man caught Burke's eye and gave him an insolent laugh. He
even stopped and muttered something to his companion.

Burke's blood was up in an instant.

He advanced quickly toward the tough. Jimmie sneered, as he stood his
ground, confident in the security of his political protection.

"Move on there," snapped Burke. "This is no loafing place."

"Aaaah, go chase sparrers," snarled Jimmie the Monk. "Who ye think yer
talking to, rookie?"

Now, Officer B