Voices from the crowd said: "Aw, let him go. It's Christmas. He ain't harmed nobody but himself." The blue-coat was a bit nettled by the implication of hard-heartedness. "'Tain't nothin' to me," he said. "Come on to the station, and if the loot'nant says all right, all right." "I'll be there," said Greg. "You take him on, and I'll get my cab." Greg and Hickey doubled back through the next street and were already at the station-house door when the officer arrived with his prisoner. Greg had no great difficulty in persuading the good-natured officer at the desk to let the wretched young man go. The inconsistency of arresting a man for trying to kill himself cannot but be apparent to all. It is something that he cannot be prevented from doing if he wants to. A mumbled promise was extracted from the prisoner that he would not try it again, and he was handed over to Greg's care. Wrapping him in the lap-robe, Greg bundled him into the flivver and they drove off amid the plaudits of the crowd gathered around the station-house steps. The young man did not come face to face with Hickey. Greg felt a little shamefaced that the people should think he was playing the part of the good Samaritan. "If they knew!" he thought. "It's only out of the frying pan into the fire for him, poor wretch!" As the cab started the young man never so much as looked up. He half sat, half lay in the corner of the cab like an old man in whom the last spark of life is almost quenched. His eyes were open, yet they saw nothing. He seemed to be quite indifferent as to where Greg was taking him; he seemed not to care whether he were in jail or out again. Greg, who had never seen a human creature so beaten down, scarcely knew how to act towards him. His heart was touched by the sight of such utter wretchedness, but to offer him sympathy would have been both cruel and hypocritical. On the other hand he could not hit the man while he was down by letting him see that his crime was known. For the present it seemed best merely to try to restore him by warmth, food and sleep, until he was better able to meet his fate like a man. The young man himself broke the silence. "You would have done better to let me go," he muttered. He spoke with a slight foreign accent. "Buck up!" said Greg. "Nothing's so bad but what it might be worse." To Greg while he uttered them the words sounded hollow, addressed to one in this young man's position, but he had to say something. "I suppose I ought to thank you," said the other with weary bitterness. "You needn't trouble about that," said Greg grimly. "If you want to do me a real kindness, stop the man and let me out. I can still walk to the river." "Mustn't talk like that," said Greg. "There's food and warmth waiting for you. Let that do you for the present."