Detective Mullaney followed willingly, for he knew that people were fairly piling over one another in an attempt to get into the hall by the main entrance. He sat down in one of the square chairs on the platform and searched with his sharp little eyes until he found the face of Walker Farr in the terraced rows of humanity. It was not difficult to locate him, for his physique made him loom among other men and he was posted under the banner which marked the location of Moosac County. The detective found the eyes of the young man directed toward the gallery with such intentness and for so long a time that he endeavored to trace that earnest scrutiny to its object. The detective was not exactly certain, but he finally picked out a very handsome young lady who occupied a front chair in the balcony; she seemed to be returning the young man's intent regard. “You have the reputation of knowing all the pretty girls in the state,” whispered Mullaney, drawing Dodd's attention with a nudge. “Who is that up there in the gallery, front row, fifth from the aisle; blue feather, and so handsome she hurts my eyes?” To have his attention drawn thus rudely to the one girl in all the world gave Dodd a sensation which he did not relish--and his face showed his astonished resentment. “That is Miss Kilgour, who used to be my uncle's secretary. Why do you want to know who she is?” “Because there seems to be something very especial on between her and the man we thought was worth five hundred dollars to us.” “That young lady, Mr. Mullaney, is engaged to me,” stated Dodd, acridly. “You'd better drop the topic.” But he did not display either the joy or the pride of the accepted suitor as he looked up at her. “I'll simply say that you're a mighty lucky chap and I congratulate you,” returned Mr. Mullaney, hiding his confusion by getting very busy with newspaper clippings and papers which he drew from his breast pocket. The detective was wholly unconscious of the irony of that remark. But it brought a flush of shame to Dodd's cheek, for the sorrow and sting and ignominy of that part which he had played had not departed from his soul nor did even the fervor of his passion for her help him forgive himself; he stared at her guiltily as the thief gloats over his loot and is conscious of his degradation without feeling sufficient contrition to give up the object he has stolen. For he remembered with fresh and poignant recollection the circumstances under which that girl had given her promise to him so recently: she had stood over a mother who had abased herself before them, had cast herself down and had writhed and screamed and implored her to consent; and the mother was driven to do this by the lash of his threats. He had stood there and demanded, and the woman on the floor had confessed her frailty, owned to her misdeeds, acknowledged her debt, and had frantically begged her daughter to sacrifice herself.