ed. The
upshot of the hideous controversy was that Black Mustache said:

"You take her to court, Pete. I'll hunt up F. P. Keep her
till the last."

In after days she could recall starting for the street car
with the officer, Pete; then memory was a blank until she was
sitting in a stuffy room with a prison odor--the anteroom to
the court. She and Pete were alone. He was walking nervously
up and down pulling his little fair mustache. It must have
been that she had retained throughout the impassive features
which, however stormy it was within, gave her an air of
strength and calm. Otherwise Pete would not presently have
halted before her to say in a low, agitated voice:

"If you can make trouble for us, don't do it. I've got a
wife, and three babies--one come only last week--and my old
mother paralyzed. You know how it is with us fellows--that
we've got to do what them higher up says or be broke."

Susan made no reply.

"And F. P.--he's right up next the big fellows nowadays. What
he says goes. You can see for yourself how much chance
against him there'd be for a common low-down cop."

She was still silent, not through anger as he imagined but
because she had no sense of the reality of what was happening.
The officer, who had lost his nerve, looked at her a moment,
in his animal eyes a humble pleading look; then he gave a
groan and turned away. "Oh, hell!" he muttered.

Again her memory ceased to record until--the door swung open;
she shivered, thinking it was the summons to court. Instead,
there stood Freddie Palmer. The instant she looked into his
face she became as calm and strong as her impassive expression
had been falsely making her seem. Behind him was Black
Mustache, his face ghastly, sullen, cowed. Palmer made a
jerky motion of head and arm. Pete went; and the door closed
and she was alone with him.

"I've seen the Judge and you're free," said Freddie.

She stood and began to adjust her hat and veil.

"I'll have those filthy curs kicked off the force."

She was looking tranquilly at him.

"You don't believe me? You think I ordered it done?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "No matter," she said. "It's
undone now. I'm much obliged. It's more than I expected."

"You don't believe me--and I don't blame you. You think I'm
making some sort of grandstand play."

"You haven't changed--at least not much."

"I'll admit, when you left I was wild and did tell 'em to take
you in as