"Y' gotta cut th' rough stuff, 'ster Pett," she said calmly. "I need my sleep, j'st 's much 's everyb'dy else, but I gotta stay here. There's a lady c'ming right up in a taxi fr'm th' Astorbilt to identify this gook. She's after'm f'r something." "What! Skinner?" "'s what he calls h'mself." "What's he done?" "I d'no. Th' lady'll tell us that." There was a violent ringing at the front door bell. "I guess that's her," said Miss Trimble. "Who's going to let 'r in? I can't go." "I will," said Ann. Mr. Pett regarded Mr. Crocker with affectionate encouragement. "I don't know what you've done, Skinner," he said, "but I'll stand by you. You're the best fan I ever met, and if I can keep you out of the penitentiary, I will." "It isn't the penitentiary!" said Mr. Crocker unhappily. A tall, handsome, and determined-looking woman came into the room. She stood in the doorway, looking about her. Then her eyes rested on Mr. Crocker. For a moment she gazed incredulously at his discoloured face. She drew a little nearer, peering. "D'yo 'dentify 'm, ma'am?" said Miss Trimble. "Bingley!" "Is 't th' guy y' wanted?" "It's my husband!" said Mrs. Crocker. "Y' can't arrest 'm f'r _that!_" said Miss Trimble disgustedly. She thrust her revolver back into the hinterland of her costume. "Guess I'll be beatin' it," she said with a sombre frown. She was plainly in no sunny mood. "'f all th' hunk jobs I was ever on, this is th' hunkest. I'm told off 't watch a gang of crooks, and after I've lost a night's sleep doing it, it turns out 't's a nice, jolly fam'ly party!" She jerked her thumb towards Jimmy. "Say, this guy says he's that guy's son. I s'pose it's all right?" "That is my step-son, James Crocker." Ann uttered a little cry, but it was lost in Miss Trimble's stupendous snort. The detective turned to the window. "I guess I'll beat 't," she observed caustically, "before it turns out that I'm y'r l'il daughter Genevieve." CHAPTER XXV NEARLY EVERYBODY HAPPY Mrs. Crocker turned to her husband. "Well, Bingley?" she said, a steely tinkle in her voice. "Well, Eugenia?" said Mr. Crocker. A strange light was shining in Mr. Crocker's mild eyes. He had seen a miracle happen that night. He had seen an even more formidable woman than his wife dominated by an even meeker man than himself, and he had been amazed and impressed by the spectacle. It had never even started to occur to him before, but apparently it could be done. A little resolution, a little determination . . . nothing more was needed. He looked at Mr. Pett. And yet Mr. Pett had crumpled up Eugenia's sister with about three firm speeches. It could be done. . . . "What have you to say, Bingley?" Mr. Crocker drew himself up.