,
quavering voice repeated what her father had said. Being a woman, she
was allowed by the woman-wise magistrate to tell her story in her own
way. When she spoke of the attempted murder at the taffrail, her manner
became excited. Then she told of the captain's promise to put the man in
irons on her agreeing to testify against him--of the consequent decrease
in her watchfulness, and her missing the child just before the
shipwreck--of her rescue by the gallant first officer, and his assertion
that he had seen her child in the arms of this man--the only man on
earth who would harm it--of the later news that a boat containing
sailors and children had been picked up by a Mediterranean steamer--of
the detectives sent over, and their report that a sailor answering this
man's description had refused to surrender a child to the consul at
Gibraltar and had disappeared with it--of her joy at the news that Myra
was alive, and despair of ever seeing her again until she had met her in
this man's arms on Broadway the day before. At this point, outraged
maternity overcame her. With cheeks flushed, and eyes blazing scorn and
anger, she pointed at Rowland and all but screamed: "And he has
mutilated--tortured my baby. There are deep wounds in her little back,
and the doctor said, only last night, that they were made by a sharp
instrument. And he must have tried to warp and twist the mind of my
child, or put her through frightful experiences; for he has taught her
to swear--horribly--and last night at bedtime, when I told her the story
of Elisha and the bears and the children, she burst out into the most
uncontrollable screaming and sobbing."

Here her testimony ended in a breakdown of hysterics, between sobs of
which were frequent admonitions to the child not to say that bad word;
for Myra had caught sight of Rowland and was calling his nickname.

"What shipwreck was this--where was it?" asked the puzzled magistrate of
nobody in particular.

"The _Titan_," called out half a dozen newspaper men across the room.

"The _Titan_," repeated the magistrate. "Then this offense was committed
on the high seas under the English flag. I cannot imagine why it is
brought into this court. Prisoner, have you anything to say?"

"Nothing, your Honor." The answer came in a kind of dry sob.

The magistrate scanned the ashen-faced man in rags, and said to the
clerk of the court: "Change this charge to vagrancy--eh--"

The clerk, instigated by the newsp