he shuts his door."

The priest, evidently absorbed in some strain of thought, parried her
question with another: "And so the boy was not badly hurt? Well, that is
something to be thankful for. Perhaps I may know his people. I will send
Mike and the wagon back to you, if I can. Good-by." And he touched his
hat, passing up the street with his long, even stride, the skirt of his
black cassock clinging to his knees.

The arrest, so far as could be seen from Mike's general deportment, had
not troubled that gentleman in the least. He had nodded pleasantly
to the captain, who, in return, had frowned severely at him while the
father of the boy was making the complaint; had winked good-naturedly at
him the moment the accuser had left the room; had asked after Kitty and
John, motioned to him to stay around until somebody put in an appearance
to go bail, and had then busied himself with more important matters. A
thick-set man, in a brown suit and derby hat, accompanied by an officer
and another man, had brought in a frail woman, looking as if life were
slowly ebbing out of her; and the four were in a row before his desk.
The usual questions were asked and answered by the detective and the
clerk--the nature of the charge, the name and address of the party
robbed, the name and address of the accused--and the entries properly
made.

During the hearing, the frail woman had stood with bent head, dazed and
benumbed. When her name was asked, she had made no answer nor did she
give her residence. "I am an Englishwoman," was all she had said.

Mike, now privileged to enjoy the freedom of the room, had been watching
the proceedings with increasing interest, so much so that he had edged
up to the group, as close as he dared, where he could get the light
full on the woman. When the words, "I am an Englishwoman," fell from
her lips, he let out an oath, and slapped his thigh with the fiat of
his hand. "Of course it is! I thought I know'd her when she come in.
English, is she? What a lot o' lies they do be puttin' up. She never
saw England. She's a dago from 'cross town. Won't Mrs. Cleary's eyes pop
when I tell her!"

The group in front of the captain's desk disintegrated. The woman, still
silent, was led away to the cell. Rosenthal's clerk, who had made the
charge for the firm, had come round to the captain's side of the desk
to sign some papers. Pickert and the officer had already disappeared
through the street-door. At this juncture