Dyker met that gaze steadily. He leaned, in his turn, toward O'Malley, and his own voice dropped to a whisper. There was an exchange of a dozen sentences, and the two men had arrived at a perfect understanding: Dyker was as good as elected. O'Malley pressed the call-button. "Billy," he said to the bar-keeper, "have somebody run out and bring in Larry Riley off his beat. I want to see him." As the bar-keeper nodded and disappeared, Dyker started to rise. "I don't know whether Riley had better see me here," he said. "Rose's house is on his regular beat." "All the more reason to sit tight," replied the comprehending O'Malley. "What's the use of gettin' square with a person unless the person knows who done it?" "But I am not sure that Riley would be a safe man to confide this to. He's naturally a friend of Rose's." "He's more of a friend of mine." The officer entered a minute later, his flushed face gravely attentive, his helmet in his hand. "Riley," said O'Malley, "you know this Légère woman." "I do that, Mr. O'Malley, sir." "Well, she's been gettin' too gay. When you go off duty, you tell Jim to have her place pinched to-night." Riley's cheeks became a shade less red. "It's sorry I am to hear, sir, that she's been misbehavin' of herself," he murmured. "Sure you're sorry. Tell Jim to get there early: we don't want nobody but the women." "What"--Riley wet his dry lips--"What's the charge?" "Runnin' a white-slave joint. You're to be sure to get a girl she has in the third floor back." O'Malley's tone had been conclusive; it indicated that the interview was at an end; but the big officer stood twirling his helmet between his large hands. "Mr. O'Malley, sir?" he began. "What is it, Riley?" "There's nothin' else?" "Nuthin'." "An'--there ain't no other way out of it for Mrs. Légère?" "No, there ain't. But you can report her house and get the credit yourself, Riley." "Thank ye kindly, sir; but if ye don't mind, sir, I think I'd rather let someone get it as nades it more. Ye see, Mr. O'Malley, sir, this here Mrs. Légère has been powerful kind to me, an'----" "All right, have it your own way." "I--I can't do nothin' for her, Mr. O'Malley?" "Not this time. That's all, Riley.--And, Riley----" The thin boss stood up and crossed to the bulky policeman. His voice was still low and soft. "Yis, Mr. O'Malley?" "If that woman gets wind of this an' makes a getaway, I'll have your uniform off you so God damned quick you'll wish I'd skinned you alive." "Yis, Mr. O'Malley, sir," said the officer. "No fear of that, sir." But he left the audience-chamber with a heavy heart. He lived the life that he was compelled to live, and he did what he was ordered to do, but he could not without compunction turn upon one that had bought a right to his own and his superior's protection.