"Ah, but bad as it is, ma’am," Flynn began to reason, "it’s better than stealin’—now, isn’t it?" But Lizzie seemed ready for him here. "I think I’ve read in your Bible that the commandment, 'Thou shalt not steal,’ was given to a people among whom it was a principle that everyone should be provided for. If it happened that anyone was not provided for, there was another commandment given as to him, ’Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.’ He was to be free to take what he needed." Flynn shook his head. "That may be in the Bible, ma’am; but it wouldn’t stand in a court o’ law." "Of course it wouldn’t; only, the court of law is nothing to me." "It can make itself something to you, ma’am, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so." "Oh no, it can’t! It can try me and sentence me and lock me up; but that’s no worse than law and order are doing to me and mine every hour of the day." "Oh, momma," Jennie pleaded, clinging to her mother’s arm, "please stop—_please_!" "I’m only warning him, darling. Law and order will bring him to grief as it does everyone else. How many did it kill in the war? Something like twelve millions, wasn’t it, and could anyone ever reckon up the number of aching hearts it’s left alive?" "Yes, momma; but that kind of talk doesn’t do Teddy any good." "It does if we make it plain that he was only acting within his rights. These people think that by passing a law they impose a moral duty. What nonsense! I want my son to be brave enough to strike at such a theory as that. It’s true that they’ll strike back at him, and that they have the power to crush him—only, in the long run he’ll be the victor." Flynn looked at Jennie in sympathetic apology. "All right now, Miss Follett. I guess my friend and me’ll be goin’ along—" "You’ll do just as you like about that," Lizzie interposed, with dignity; "but if you see my son before I do, tell him not to be sorry for what he’s done, and above all not to think that I blame him. ’Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.’ When you do, the eighth commandment doesn’t apply any longer." Jennie followed her visitors to the doorstep. After her mother’s reckless talk, they seemed like friends, as, indeed, at bottom of their kindly hearts they could easily have been. They brought no ill will to their job—only a conviction that if Teddy Follett was a thief, they must "get him." "Does—does Mr. Collingham know that all this is going on?" She asked her question in trepidation, lest these men, trained to ferret out whatever was most hidden, should be able to read her secret. It was Jackman who shouldered the duty of answering. He seemed more laconic than his colleague, and more literate. "We don’t trouble Mr. Collingham with trifles. If it was a big thing—"