. There was
no obligation to treat the girl as a guest, even though the girl should
have acted like one. Miss Beekman knew it. And yet there was--something!
Didn't she owe some sort of duty at any rate toward those in her
employment--those who slept under her roof?

"'Twould have been better to have been kind to her then than to be kind
to me now!" said he with sad conviction.

The proud Miss Althea Beekman, the dignified descendant of a long line
of ancestors, turned red. Heretofore serenely confident of her own
personal virtue and her own artificial standards of democracy, she now
found herself humiliated and chagrined before this rough young criminal.

"You--are--quite right!" she confessed, her eyes smarting with sudden
tears. "My position is quite--quite illogical. But of course I had no
idea! Please, please let me try to help you--if I can--and Katie,
too--if it isn't too late."

Shane O'Connell experienced contrition. After all it was not seemly that
the likes of him should be dictating to the likes of her. And he could
never abide seeing a woman--particularly a pretty woman--cry.

"Forgive me, madam!" he begged, lowering his head.

"You were quite justified in all you said!" she assured him. "Please
tell me everything that has happened. I have influence with the district
attorney and--in other places. No doubt I can be of assistance to you.
Of course, you can absolutely trust me!"

Shane O'Connell, looking into her honest gray eyes, knew that he could
trust her. Slowly--brokenly--tensely, he told her how he had killed Red
McGurk, and why.

The corridors were full of shadows when Althea Beekman put her hands on
Shane O'Connell's shoulders and bade him good night. Though she
abominated his crime and loathed him for having committed it she felt in
some way partially responsible, and she also perceived that, by the code
of the O'Connells, Shane had done what he believed to be right. He had
taken the law into his own hands and he was ready to pay the necessary
penalty. He would have done the same thing all over again. To this
extent at least he had her respect.

She found Mr. Tutt waiting for her on the bench by the warden's office.

"Well?" he asked with a smile, rising to greet her and tossing away his
stogy.

"I haven't very good news for you," she answered regretfully. "He's
confessed to me--told me everything--why he shot him and where he bought
the pistol. He's a brave boy, though! It's a sad case!