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 idiots—they had overplayed their hands. Let Billie but hear that he was in actual jeopardy, restrained of his liberty, in danger of being branded for life, and she would realize at last what black sinks of iniquity some of his traducers were. Imperiously she would command Scanlon, even her father to lay off, and she would fly to his rescue. Henry got quite a fine thrill out of contemplating her coming. He expected her at any moment.

"This'll bring her; this'll bring her," he exulted, and his gesture comprehended the steel bars surrounding him. "That murder charge'll get her." He shook himself in a kind of ecstasy as if already he felt Billie's arms about his neck. He closed his eyes in that anticipatory rapture; and they were still closed when slouching footsteps came methodically along the corridor and the shadow of a man loomed against the grill work of Harrington's cell.

"Lady to see you, sir!" announced the guard.

"Lady?" Harrington gulped the word and a tide of tingling emotions boiled up in him.

"Thank God!" But when he had followed the trusty down to the visitors' room it was not Billie but Lahleet. The girl saw his stunned look, his slackening lip, his swift endeavor to recompose his features, and understood perfectly; yet like that savage stoic she could be was only sadly imperturbable.

"There isn't a chance in the world for bail," she told him sadly, looking up out of large concerned eyes. "Not a chance. The story in the Star about the murder charge and the chamber of commerce meeting are both perfectly terrible." The girl drew a rumpled paper from under her arm, smoothing out the wrinkles which