"Mr. King didn't have it; nuther did Maudlin. It came from over there, an' I heard a car drive away right after." Jinnie shook her head hopelessly. It was all so mysterious that her heart was gripped with fright. A short time before, an officer had been there cross-questioning Lafe suspiciously. Then he had gone away with the pistol in his pocket. She stared out of the window, fear-shadowed. In a twinkling her whole love world had tumbled about her ears, and she listened as the cobbler told her once more the story of the hour she'd been away with Bobbie. "There're two men coming here right now," she said suddenly, getting up. "Lafe, there's Burns, the cop on this beat." "They're wantin' to find out more, I presume," replied Lafe wearily. As the men entered the shop, Jinnie backed away and stood with rigid muscles. She was dizzily frightened at the sight of the gruff officers, who had not even saluted Lafe. The foremost man was a stranger to them both. "Are you Lafe Grandoken?" he demanded, looking at the cobbler. "Yes," affirmed Lafe. The man flourished a paper with staid importance. "I'm the sheriff of this county, an' I've a warrant for your arrest for murderin' Maudlin Bates," he sing-songed. Jinnie sprang forward. "Lafe didn't shoot 'im," she cried desperately. The man eyed her critically. "Did you do it, kid?" he asked, smiling. "No, I wasn't here!" answered Jinnie, short-breathed. "Then how'd you know he didn't do it?" For a moment Jinnie was nonplussed. Then she came valiantly to her friend's aid. "I know he didn't. Of course he didn't, you wicked, wicked men! Don't you dare touch 'im, don't you dare!" "Well, he's got to go with me," affirmed the man in ugly, sneering tones. "Whistle for the patrol, Burns, and we'll wheel the Jew in!" Jinnie heard, as in a hideous dream, the shrill, trilling whistle; heard the galloping of horses and saw a long black wagon draw up to the steps. When the two sullen men laid violent hold of the wheelchair, Jinnie's terrified fingers reached toward the cobbler, and the sheriff gave her hand a sharp blow. Lafe uttered an inarticulate cry, and at that moment Jinnie forgot "Happy in Spite," forgot Lafe's angels and the glory of them, and sprang like a tiger at the man who had struck her. She flung one arm about his neck and fought him with tooth and nails. So surprised was Policeman Burns that he stood with staring eyes, making no move to rescue his mate from the tigerish girl. "Damn you! Damn you!" screamed Jinnie. "I'll kill you before you take 'im." Lafe cried out again, calling her name gently, imploringly, and tenderly. When his senses returned, Burns grasped Jinnie in his arms and held her firmly. There she stood panting, trying to break away from the policeman's detaining fingers. She looked half crazed in the dimming late afternoon light. "Merciful God, but you're a tartar, miss!" said the sheriff ruefully. "Well, if she ain't clawed the blood clean through my skin!"