n his
breast, for he had no mind to offend any one of importance where there
was no need.

"I sha'n't tell you," came the petulant retort from the girl. Her ivory
forehead was wrinkled charmingly in a little frown of obstinacy. "Why,"
she went on, displaying new symptoms of distress over another appalling
idea that flashed on her in this moment, "you would probably give my
name to the reporters." Once again the rosebud mouth drooped into curves
of sorrow, of a great self-pity. "If it ever got into the newspapers, my
family would die of shame!"

The pathos of her fear pierced through the hardened crust of the police
official. He spoke apologetically.

"Now, the easiest way out for both of us," he suggested, "is for you
to tell me just who you are. You see, young lady, you were found in the
house of a notorious crook."

The haughtiness of the girl waxed. It seemed as if she grew an inch
taller in her scorn of the Inspector's saying.

"How perfectly absurd!" she exclaimed, scathingly. "I was calling on
Miss Mary Turner!"

"How did you come to meet her, anyhow?" Burke inquired. He still
held his big voice to a softer modulation than that to which it was
habituated.

Yet, the disdain of the girl seemed only to increase momently. She
showed plainly that she regarded this brass-buttoned official as one
unbearably insolent in his demeanor toward her. Nevertheless, she
condescended to reply, with an exaggeration of the aristocratic drawl to
indicate her displeasure.

"I was introduced to Miss Turner," she explained, "by Mr. Richard
Gilder. Perhaps you have heard of his father, the owner of the
Emporium."

"Oh, yes, I've heard of his father, and of him, too," Burke admitted,
placatingly.

But the girl relaxed not a whit in her attitude of offense.

"Then," she went on severely, "you must see at once that you are
entirely mistaken in this matter." Her blue eyes widened further as
she stared accusingly at the Inspector, who betrayed evidences of
perplexity, and hesitated for an answer. Then, the doll-like, charming
face took on a softer look, which had in it a suggestion of appeal.

"Don't you see it?" she demanded.

"Well, no," Burke rejoined uneasily; "not exactly, I don't!" In the
presence of this delicate and graceful femininity, he experienced a
sudden, novel distaste for his usual sledge-hammer methods of attack
in interrogation. Yet, his duty required that he should continue his
questioning. He found himse