“Here’s a receipt for your jewelry, miss. I’ll take a chance on its value. While I don’t congratulate anybody on getting pinched, I’m glad that your friends, if they must cut capers, have you to help them out. Thank you for breezing into this gloomy old place.” “Good for you, you nice old barking dog that don’t bite!” enthused the girl. “I _thought_ you weren’t half as cross as you look. I don’t know what my friends have done to get the law down on them, but I _do_ believe in their innocence of motive and so may you. My cousin is the stormy petrel sort, with the best intentions in the world, but _always_ getting herself and others into trouble. And Why-Not Pape—He’s just from the West, you know, and I haven’t had time yet to teach him how to behave in a city. In a way you have done me a favor in pinching them, as you so cleverly put it. It is _something_ for a true woman to be given the opportunity to show by her actions just how much she—You get what I mean, don’t you—or _do_ you?” Others in the room got it rather more forcefully than he. Pape suppressed a groan at the flush which had blotted the pallor of Jane’s face. Fast though he had worked, this infant fiend worked faster. Hard though he had tried, she had upset all his gains with a laugh and a sigh. Desperate though he felt to protest her claim on him, the fact that she claimed him discounted any protestation he might make. His West had schooled him in deeds, not words. By deeds he would—he _must_ prove the truth. Characteristically Irene rewarded Adonis Moore. He was a “dear” of a horse cop and wore his uniform just “scrumptiously.” He must keep an eye out for her when next she rode over park bridle-paths. She thanked him for her friends, therefore for her. It was these acts of simple human kindness that made the world worth while. Didn’t he agree with her—or _did_ he? She only hoped that others were as appreciative of _her_ efforts as was she of his. Even for Pudge O’Shay, whose case it was, she had a cordial _au revoir_. She had noticed from first glance that he looked worried. But he mustn’t worry, not one tiny bit. Worry made one thin and he had such an imposing appearance—so official—just as he was. He must rely on her. Surely he could—or _couldn’t_ he? She had taken the case in hand now and would return the two out-on-bails to court if she had to carry them. He was merely loaning them to her over night. Wouldn’t he try to remember that? “Good-night, you nice persons, one and all!” She shook hands with the uniformed three before attaching herself, dangle-wise, to Pape’s weak right arm. “Come along, crooks,” she advised the “pinched” pair cheerfully. “This paper declares me your custodian—says it will cost me the family jools not to produce you in court at ten of to-morrow morn. No matter how guilty you be or be not, I shall produce!” CHAPTER XIX—TEN OF TO-MORROW MORN