Of a sudden, an inspiration came to him, a means to snap the tension, to create a diversion wholly efficacious. He would turn to his boasting again, would call upon his vanity, which he knew well as his chief foible, and make it serve as the foil against his love. He strove manfully to throw off the softer mood. In a measure, at least, he won the fight--though always, under the rush of this vaunting, there throbbed the anguish of his heart.

"You want to cut out worrying about me," he counseled, bravely. "Why, I ain't worrying any, myself--not a little bit! You see, it's something new I've pulled off. n.o.body ever put over anything like it before."

He faced Burke with a grin of gloating again.

"I'll bet there'll be a lot of stuff in the newspapers about this, and my picture, too, in most of 'em! What?"

The man's manner imposed on Burke, though Mary felt the torment that his vainglorying was meant to mask.

"Say," Garson continued to the Inspector, "if the reporters want any pictures of me, could I have some new ones taken? The one you've got of me in the Gallery is over ten years old. I've taken off my beard since then. Can I have a new one?" He put the question with an eagerness that seemed all sincere.

Burke answered with a fine feeling of generosity.

"Sure, you can, Joe! I'll send you up to the Gallery right now."

"Immense!" Garson cried, boisterously. He moved toward d.i.c.k Gilder, walking with a faint suggestion of swagger to cover the nervous tremor that had seized him.

"So long, young fellow!" he exclaimed, and held out his hand. "You've been on the square, and I guess you always will be."

d.i.c.k had no scruple in clasping that extended hand very warmly in his own. He had no feeling of repulsion against this man who had committed a murder in his presence. Though he did not quite understand the other's heart, his instinct as a lover taught him much, so that he pitied profoundly--and respected, too.

"We'll do what we can for you," he said, simply.

"That's all right," Garson replied, with such carelessness of manner as he could contrive. Then, at last, he turned to Mary. This parting must be bitter, and he braced himself with all the vigors of his will to combat the weakness that leaped from his soul.

As he came near, the girl could hold herself in leash no longer. She threw herself on his breast. Her arms wreathed about his neck. Great sobs racked her.

"Oh, Joe, Joe!" The gasping cry was of utter despair.

Garson's trembling hand patted the girl's shoulder very softly, a caress of infinite tenderness.

"That's all right!" he murmured, huskily. "That's all right, Mary!"

There was a short silence; and then he went on speaking, more firmly.

"You know, he'll look after you."

He would have said more, but he could not. It seemed to him that the sobs of the girl caught in his own throat. Yet, presently, he strove once again, with every reserve of his strength; and, finally, he so far mastered himself that he could speak calmly. The words were uttered with a subtle renunciation that was this man's religion.

"Yes, he'll take care of you. Why, I'd like to see the two of you with about three kiddies playing round the house."

He looked up over the girl's shoulder, and beckoned with his head to d.i.c.k, who came forward at the summons.

"Take good care of her, won't you?"

He disengaged himself gently from the girl's embrace, and set her within the arms of her husband, where she rested quietly, as if unable to fight longer against fate's decree.

"Well, so long!"

He dared not utter another word, but turned blindly, and went, stumbling a little, toward the doorman, who had appeared in answer to the Inspector's call.

"To the Gallery," Burke ordered, curtly.

Garson went on without ever a glance back.... His strength was at an end.

There was a long silence in the room after Garson's pa.s.sing. It was broken, at last, by the Inspector, who got up from his chair, and advanced toward the husband and wife. In his hand, he carried a sheet of paper, roughly scrawled. As he stopped before the two, and cleared his throat, Mary withdrew herself from d.i.c.k's arms, and regarded the official with brooding eyes from out her white face. Something strange in her enemy's expression caught her attention, something that set new hopes alive within her in a fashion wholly inexplicable, so that she waited with a sudden, breathless eagerness.

Burke extended the sheet of paper to the husband.

"There's a doc.u.ment," he said gruffly. "It's a letter from one Helen Morris, in which she sets forth the interesting fact that she pulled off a theft in the Emporium, for which your Mrs. Gilder here did time. You know, your father got your Mrs. Gilder sent up for three years for that same job--which she didn't do! That's why she had such a grudge against your father, and against the law, too!"

Burke chuckled, as the young man took the paper, wonderingly.

"I don't know that I blame her much for that grudge, when all's said and done.... You give that doc.u.ment to your father. It sets her right. He's a just man according to his lights, your father. He'll do all he can to make things right for her, now he knows."

Once again, the Inspector paused to chuckle.

"I guess she'll keep within the law from now on," he continued, contentedly, "without getting a lawyer to tell her how.... Now, you two listen. I've got to go out a minute. When I get back, I don't want to find anybody here--not anybody! Do you get me?"

He strode from the room, fearful lest further delay might involve him in sentimental thanksgivings from one or the other, or both--and Burke hated sentiment as something distinctly unprofessional.

When the official was gone, the two stood staring mutely each at the other through long seconds. What she read in the man's eyes set the woman's heart to beating with a new delight. A bloom of exquisite rose grew in the pallor of her cheeks. The misty light in the violet eyes shone more radiant, yet more softly. The crimson lips curved to strange tenderness.... What he read in her eyes set the husband's pulses to bounding. He opened his arms in an appeal that was a command. Mary went forward slowly, without hesitation, in a bliss that forgot every sorrow for that blessed moment, and cast herself on his breast.