Her arms about his neck tightened their grip convulsively, forcing his head down until his face rested against hers. And so they stood, rigid, while the two children stared with round eyes and whimpered unheeded. Her grip relaxed. Her hands dropped slowly to her side. She leaned back against the circle of his arms, and looked up at him--a strange look, full of a sweet humility. "I thought I was strong," she said quietly. "I'm weak--but I don't care." He looked at her with glowing eyes, not understanding, but content that the journey was ended, that she was there, in his arms, speaking to him. "I always loved you, dear," she went on. "You knew that, didn't you? But I thought I was strong enough to give you up for--for a principle--but I was wrong. I can't do without you--I knew it just now when I saw--" She stopped, and shuddered. "I can't do without you," she repented. She felt the muscles of his arms quiver, and pressed more closely against them. They were strong arms, protecting arms, restful to lean against at the journey's end. CHAPTER XXVII A LEMON That bulwark of _Peaceful Moments_, Pugsy Maloney, was rather the man of action than the man of tact. Otherwise, when, a moment later, he thrust his head up through the trap, he would have withdrawn delicately, and not split the silence with a raucous "Hey!" which acted on John and Betty like an electric shock. John glowered at him. Betty was pink, but composed. Pugsy climbed leisurely on to the roof, and surveyed the group. "Why, hello!" he said, as he saw Betty more closely. "Well, Pugsy," said Betty. "How are you?" John turned in surprise. "Do you know Pugsy?" Betty looked at him, puzzled. "Why, of course I do." "Sure," said Pugsy. "Miss Brown was stenographer on de poiper till she beat it." "Miss Brown!" There was utter bewilderment in John's face. "I changed my name when I went to _Peaceful Moments_." "Then are you--did you--?" "Yes, I wrote those articles. That's how I happen to be here now. I come down every day and help look after the babies. Poor little souls, there seems to be nobody else here who has time to do it. It's dreadful. Some of them--you wouldn't believe--I don't think they could ever have had a real bath in their lives." "Baths is foolishness," commented Master Maloney austerely, eying the scoured infants with a touch of disfavor. John was reminded of a second mystery that needed solution. "How on earth did you get up here, Pugsy?" he asked. "How did you get past Sam?" "Sam? I didn't see no Sam. Who's Sam?" "One of those fellows. A coon. They left him on guard with a gun, so that I shouldn't get down." "Ah, I met a coon beating it down de stairs. I guess dat was him. I guess he got cold feet." "Then there's nothing to stop us from getting down." "Nope. Dat's right. Dere ain't a T'ree Pointer wit'in a mile. De cops have been loadin' dem into de patrol-wagon by de dozen." John turned to Betty.