"All right," interrupted the Chief, "we'll look after him for you. It isn't safe for the community to have such people at large. The greatest kindness their own folks can ever do them is to put them some place where they will be cared for and treated like human beings but kept from doing harm to anybody. They're mental cripples. In other words, their heads are twisted inside just like some people have a mis-shapen arm or leg which keeps them from using it. These fellows with twisted, warped brains shouldn't be expected to use them, either. They can't use them right and when they try to use them, they only commit crimes. And now Mrs. Grimes,--" Maria raised her head to say morosely: "Doan yo' call me thet name no mor'. I hain't Mrs. Grimes. I don't never wanter hyar th' name spoke. I'm Maria Honeycut, ole Am. Honeycut's datter an' this hyar farm es my place that my Pappy giv me." There was a trace of pride in the poor woman's tone which had not been there before and which demanded respect as well as pity. She, too, had suffered under the domination of the ogre. She and Ambrose, however, accompanied the officers to headquarters to make what statements were necessary before a notary and to arrange for the boy's admittance to an institution. There was so much to tell and, for Maria, conversation was difficult. After the first sudden outpouring of the fear and resentment she had nursed for years she retreated into her usual shell of reticence and responded only to questioning. But when the Chief entered the big room at headquarters he stood for an instant as if transfixed. What on earth, he wondered, had been brought in? A kindergarten? It looked like it. There were children on all sides of him and, squarely facing him, the brightest-eyed little girl just entering upon her teens that he had ever seen. She wore her hair in two long braids that fell below her waist, was bare-footed and hatless and clad mostly in rags. She, as well as the other children, were soiled and disheveled and drenched with rain. It was plain they had been out in the storm that had passed. But the child that particularly riveted the Chief's gaze was the curly-headed, winsome baby in the oldest girl's arms. He turned to the lieutenant at the desk. "Where'd you find her?" he asked, in evident relief. "Who--which--Oh, that one?" returned the man at the desk. "She came in with the bunch. Captain Carey brought 'em. He found 'em cruising down the river on a motor launch. He's up-stairs. Shall I call him down? He's got a report to make about a couple of fellows who jumped overboard." The Chief wanted very much to see Captain Carey and said so. A moment later he and the river captain were closeted in his private office comparing notes regarding the launch, the kidnappers, all of whom seemed to have met death within a few moments of one another, Mollie's remarkable story and the recovery of Wayne's little girl.