ty. Jack had lived with his mother for twenty-two years,
and although he was very much afraid of her, he felt that he had no
illusions concerning Mrs. Singleton Corey. He felt that she would
sacrifice nearly everything to her greed for public approbation.
Whether she would sacrifice her pride of family--twist it into a lofty
pride of duty--he did not know. There are queer psychological quirks
which may not be foreseen by youth.

Looking back on the whole sickening affair while he sat on the running
board and smoked a cigarette, Jack could not see how his mother could
consistently avoid laying him on the altar of justice. He had driven
the party, and he had stopped the car for them to play their damnable
joke. The law would call him an accomplice, he supposed. His mother
could not save him, unless she pleaded well the excuse that he had
been led astray by evil companions. In lesser crises, Jack remembered
that she had played successfully that card. She might try it now....

On the other hand, she might make a virtue of necessity and volunteer
the information that he had in the first place lied about their
destination. That, he supposed, would imply a premeditated plan of
holding up automobiles. She might wash her hands of him altogether.
He could see her doing that, too. He could, in fact, see Mrs.
Singleton Corey doing several things that would work him ill and
redound to her glory. What he could not see was a mother who would
cling to him and cry over him and for him, and stick by him, just
because she loved him.

"Aw, what's the use? It'll come out--it can't help it. The cops are
out there smelling around now, I bet!"

He arose and worked over the car until it shone immaculately. A
lifetime of continual nagging over little things, while the big things
had been left to adjust themselves, had fixed upon Jack the habit of
attending first to his mother's whims. Mrs. Singleton Corey made it a
point to drive her own car. She liked the feeling of power that it
gave her, and she loved the flattery of her friends. Therefore, even a
murder problem must wait until her automobile was beautifully ready to
back out of the garage into a critical world.

Jack gave a sigh of relief when he wiped his hands on the bunch of
waste and tossed it into a tin can kept for that purpose. Time was
precious to him just now. Any minute might bring the police. Jack did
not feel that he was to blame for what had happened, but he realized
keenl