at Burke,
observed the effect on her, and repeated his words swiftly, with a
warning emphasis that gave the girl pause.

"Nobody knew I had it--nobody in the world!" he declared. "And nobody
had anything to do with the killing but me."

Burke put a question that was troubling him much, concerning the motive
that lay behind the shooting of Griggs.

"Was there any bad feeling between you and Eddie Griggs?"

Garson's reply was explicit.

"Never till that very minute. Then, I learned the truth about what
he'd framed up with you." The speaker's voice reverted to its former
fierceness in recollection of the treachery of one whom he had trusted.

"He was a stool-pigeon, and I hated his guts! That's all," he concluded,
with brutal candor.

The Inspector moved restlessly in his chair. He had only detestation
for the slain man, yet there was something morbidly distasteful in the
thought that he himself had contrived the situation which had resulted
in the murder of his confederate. It was only by an effort that he shook
off the vague feeling of guilt.

"Nothing else to say?" he inquired.

Garson reflected for a few seconds, then made a gesture of negation.

"Nothing else," he declared. "I croaked him, and I'm glad I done it. He
was a skunk. That's all, and it's enough. And it's all true, so help me
God!"

The Inspector nodded dismissal to the stenographer, with an air of
relief.

"That's all, Williams," he said, heavily. "He'll sign it as soon as
you've transcribed the notes."

Then, as the stenographer left the room, Burke turned his gaze on the
woman, who stood there in a posture of complete dejection, her white,
anguished face downcast. There was triumph in the Inspector's voice
as he addressed her, for his professional pride was full-fed by this
victory over his foes. But there was, too, an undertone of a feeling
softer than pride, more generous, something akin to real commiseration
for this unhappy girl who drooped before him, suffering so poignantly
in the knowledge of the fate that awaited the man who had saved her, who
had loved her so unselfishly.

"Young woman," Burke said briskly, "it's just like I told you. You can't
beat the law. Garson thought he could--and now----!" He broke off, with
a wave of his hand toward the man who had just sentenced himself to
death in the electric-chair.

"That's right," Garson agreed, with somber intensity. His eyes were
grown clouded again now, and his voice dragged l