he sat in grim silence for a full minute, toying idly
with a pair of handcuffs which he had taken from his pocket.

"By the eternal grapples!" he said, at length, half to himself, "I've a
good mind to do it anyway--and take the chances."

As quick as a flash Griswold thrust out his hands.

"Put them on!" he snapped. "There are a hundred lawyers in New Orleans
who wouldn't ask for anything better than the chance to defend me--at
your expense!"

Broffin dropped the manacles into his pocket and sat back in the
swing-chair. "You win," he said shortly; and the battle was over.

For a little time no word was spoken. Griswold smoked on placidly,
seemingly forgetful of the detective's presence. Yet he was the one who
was the first to break the straitened silence.

"You are a game fighter, Mr. Broffin," he said, "and I'm enough of a
scrapper myself to be sorry for you. Try one of these smokes--you'll
find them fairly good--and excuse me for a few minutes. I want to write
a letter which, if you are going down-town, perhaps you'll be good
enough to mail for me."

He pushed the open box of cigars across to the detective, and dragged
the lounging-chair around to the other side of the table. There was
stationery at hand, and he wrote rapidly for a few minutes, covering
three pages of the manuscript sheets before he stopped. When the letter
was enclosed, addressed, and stamped, he tossed it across to Broffin,
face up. The detective saw the address, "Miss Margery Grierson," and,
putting the letter into his pocket, got up to go.

"Just one minute more, if you please," said Griswold, and, relighting
the cigar which had been suffered to go out, he went into the adjoining
bedroom. When he came back, he had put on a light top-coat and a soft
hat, and was carrying a small hand-bag.

"I'm your man, Mr. Broffin," he said quietly. "I'll go with you--and
plead guilty as charged."

* * * * *

Wahaska, the village-conscious, had its nine-days' wonder displayed for
it in inch-type head-lines when the _Daily Wahaskan_, rehearsing the
story of the New Orleans bank robbery, told of the voluntary surrender
of the robber, and of his deportation to the southern city to stand
trial for his offence.

Some few there were who took exceptions to Editor Randolph's editorial
in the same issue, commenting on the surrender, and pleading for a
suspension of judgment on the ground that much might still be hoped for
from