"Damn the rules!" snapped Voris petulantly. "I'll fix them. You needn't worry about that part of it. Go on!" "Well, sir, I was thinkin' maybe that after I found somebody to take these letters back where they belong, I could take her on home with me--I live right down here in Greenwich Village--and keep her there for the night, or anyhow till the coroner's physician is through with what he's got to do, and I'd ask my wife to break the news to her and tell her about it. A woman can do them things sometimes better'n a man can. So that's my idea, sir." "You're willing to take a woman into your home that you picked up for streetwalking?" "I'll take the chance. You see, Your Honour, I seen somethin' else--somethin' I ain't mentioned--somethin' I don't care to mention if you don't mind." "Suit yourself," said the other. "I suppose you'll be looking up the newspaper men before you go. This will make what they call a great heart-interest story." "I don't figure on tellin' the reporters neither," mumbled Schwartzmann, as though ashamed of his own forbearance. The magistrate found the detective's right hand and started to shake it. Then he dropped it. You might have thought from the haste with which he dropped it that he also was ashamed. "I'll see you don't get into any trouble with the inspector," he said. Then he added: "You know of course that this brother was a French soldier?" "Sure I know it--you told me so." "You're German, aren't you?" asked Voris. "German descent, I mean?" "I don't figure as that's got anythin' to do with the case," said the plain-clothes man, bristling. "I don't either, Schwartzmann," said the magistrate. "Now you go ahead and get that woman out of this hole." Schwartzmann went. She was where he had left her; she was huddled up, shrinking in, against the bars, and as he unlatched the iron door and swung it in and beckoned to her to come out from behind it, he saw, as she came, that her eyes looked at him with a dumb, questioning misery and that her left hand was still gripped in a hard knot against her breast. He knew what that hand held. It held a little, cheap, carved white crucifix. * * * * * I see by the papers that those popularly reputed to be anointed of God, who are principally in charge of this war, are graciously pleased to ordain that the same shall go on for quite some time yet. CHAPTER III THE SMART ALECK Cap'n Buck Fluter, holding his watch in the approved conductor's grip, glanced back and forth the short length of the four-five accommodation and raised his free hand in warning: "All aboard!" From almost above his head it came: "If you can't get a board get a scantlin'!"