"Are you all through?" Norman asked. "Well, then, listen to me. I’m not going to skip. I’m not going to let up on that scoundrel. I’m not going to ’quit’! Not for a minute! I’d be on my way to the City Hall marriage bureau already, if old law-books here didn’t say I needed the consent of Nina’s mother. If you want to be helpful—produce a mother-in-law. Buy the old lady, kidnap her, club her—anything—but produce her in a consenting frame of mind. If you don’t want to help—run along. I’ll turn the trick myself. It’s a cinch. We’ll give ourselves up and be married in the Tombs." The lawyer tried to say something, but Norman was looking at me. "All right," I said. "I’ll fix that. Don’t take any chances by going out of this private room. As soon as I snare the old lady, I’ll telephone. It may be a long hunt, but sit tight." It was not a long hunt. The Old Man, never dreaming that a rich young man like Benson would cut the Gordian knot by marrying a prostitute, had not taken the precaution of hiding the mother. I found her dozing in front of her fruit store. She had not heard of Nina for several months, until the night before when they had made her sign the affidavit about her age. She would have consented to Nina’s murder for fifty dollars, the marriage was arranged for ten. When she had made her mark on a legal paper drawn up by the lawyer, we sent Guiseppe home to prepare lunch and entertain the police. He was not to tell them anything, except that we would be back soon. Norman and Nina, the lawyer and I, rode down to the City Hall in a closed carriage. It rather startled me, the speed with which they tied the knot. Back at the Teepee we found a detective and a policeman. There was a tableau. "Good day, gentlemen," Norman said. "Allow me to present you to Mrs. Benson." He handed the certificate to the detective. "Now," he said, when the man had read it, "get out. And look here—you policeman. Tell your captain that my wife has been brutally attacked in his precinct. It’s up to him to protect her. Tell him that if I have to commit murder, it will be his fault." Half an hour later, while we were eating, the telephone rang. It was the Old Man. "Hello," he said. "Give them my congratulations. Say. You beat me to it in great shape. Too bad you ain’t in politics. I’d like to have you on my staff. And say—Blackie has gone on a railroad journey for his health. Now you fellows ain’t going to be nasty are you and make me pay that five thousand dollars bail? The club’s got a new president. He’s just been round to see me, says the boys are sorer than hell over the job you put up on them. I told him to keep the lid on. I says to him, ’Those two young gentlemen are my friends.’ You are, ain’t you?" "Well," I said, "when I’ve got what I want, I quit fighting. Forgotten all about that case. The only thing which might remind me of it, would be the sight of Blackie’s face."