the speaker's fear rose
swiftly, for the linking of these names was significant--frightfully
significant!

The inner door opened, and Mary Turner entered the office. Garson with
difficulty suppressed the cry of distress that rose to his lips. For
a few moments, the silence was unbroken. Then, presently, Burke, by a
gesture, directed the girl to advance toward the center of the room.
As she obeyed, he himself went a little toward the door, and, when it
opened again, and Dick Gilder appeared, he interposed to check the young
man's rush forward as his gaze fell on his bride, who stood regarding
him with sad eyes.

Garson stared mutely at the burly man in uniform who held their
destinies in the hollow of a hand. His lips parted as if he were about
to speak. Then, he bade defiance to the impulse. He deemed it safer for
all that he should say nothing--now!... And it is very easy to say
a word too many. And that one may be a word never to be unsaid--or
gainsaid.

Then, while still that curious, dynamic silence endured, Cassidy came
briskly into the office. By some magic of duty, he had contrived to give
his usually hebetudinous features an expression of enthusiasm.

"Say, Chief," the detective said rapidly, "they've squealed!"

Burke regarded his aide with an air intolerably triumphant. His voice
came smug:

"Squealed, eh?" His glance ran over Garson for a second, then made
its inquisition of Mary and of Dick Gilder. He did not give a look to
Cassidy as he put his question. "Do they tell the same story?" And then,
when the detective had answered in the affirmative, he went on speaking
in tones ponderous with self-complacency; and, now, his eyes held
sharply, craftily, on the woman.

"I was right then, after all--right, all the time! Good enough!" Of
a sudden, his voice boomed somberly. "Mary Turner, I want you for the
murder of----"

Garson's rush halted the sentence. He had leaped forward. His face was
rigid. He broke on the Inspector's words with a gesture of fury. His
voice came in a hiss:

"That's a damned lie!... I did it!"

CHAPTER XXIV. ANGUISH AND BLISS.

Joe Garson had shouted his confession without a second of reflection.
But the result must have been the same had he taken years of thought.
Between him and her as the victim of the law, there could be no
hesitation for choice. Indeed, just now, he had no heed to his own fate.
The prime necessity was to save her, Mary, from the toils of the law
that