the priest entered. His
presence was noted by every man in the room, most of whom rose to their
feet, some removing their hats.

"Good-morning, captain," he said, including with his bow the other
people present. "I have just left Mrs. Cleary, who tells me that one of
her men is in trouble. Ah! I see him now. Is there anything that I can
do for him?"

"Nothing, your reverence; the boy's not much hurt. I don't think it was
Mike's fault, from the testimony, but it's a case of bail, all right."

"I am afraid, captain, she is not worrying so much about our poor Mike
here as she is about the horse and wagon. These she needs, for Mr.
Cleary is away, and there is no one to help her. Perhaps you would be
good enough to send an officer with Mike, and let them drive back to
her?"

"I guess that won't be necessary, your reverence. See here, Mike, get
into your wagon and take it back to the stable, and bring somebody with
you to go bail. We didn't want the wagon, only there was no place to
leave it, and we knew they would send up for it sooner or later. It's
outside now."

"Thank you, captain. And now, Mike, be very sure you come back,"
exclaimed the priest, with an admonishing finger; "do you hear?" He
always liked the Irishman.

Mike grinned the width of his face, caught up his cap, and made for
the door. The priest watched him until he had cleared the room, then,
leaning over the desk, asked: "Anything for me this morning, captain?"

"No, your reverence, not that I can see. Two drunks come in with the
first batch, and a couple of crooks who had been working the 'elevated';
and a woman, a shoplifter. Got away with a piece of lace--a mantilla,
they called it, whatever that is. She's just gone down to wait for the
four o'clock delivery. It's a case of grand larceny. They say the lace
is worth $250. Wasn't that about it?"

Rosenthal's man bobbed his head. He had not lifted his hat to the
priest, and seemed to regard him with suspicion.

"What sort of a looking woman is she?" continued the priest.

"Oh, the same old kind; they're all alike. Nothing to say--too smart for
that. I guess she stole it, all right. All I could get out of her was
that she was an Englishwoman, but she didn't look it."

The priest lowered his head, an expression of suddenly awakened interest
on his face. "May I see her?" he asked, in an eager tone.

"Why, sure! Bunky, take Father Cruse down. He wants to talk to that
Englishwoman."

To most unfo