"Oh, I'm not likely to tell her what kind of a man her father is," said his wife bitterly. "Take care, Tom, that she doesn't find it out for herself. Be quiet! She is coming." The girl, cleansed of her paint and powder, her lithe body clad in a prim, navy blue frock, the skirt of which came below the tops of her high-laced boots, approached hastily from the women's section. She was tying the strings of her quaint poke-bonnet under her chin, and her eyes were gleaming with excitement. "Where is that boy?" she asked, looking about in some anxiety. "Father, you should see him. He is so different from the boys who follow--" "We were just talking about him," interrupted her father shortly. "He's wanted by the police, so you see he ain't so different from the rest after all. He's a--" "Don't, Tom," cried his wife. "--a murderer," completed Braddock, rolling his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. The girl stared at him for a moment, dumbly, uncomprehendingly. Her lips parted and her eyes grew very wide. "Oh, father," she cried, in low, hushed tones. Then she turned to her mother, almost imploringly. "Is--is it true, mother?" "Well, see here," broke in Braddock angrily. "Don't you believe me? Haven't I said so?" "He is the Jenison boy we were talking about last night, dearie," said Mrs. Braddock. "I don't believe he committed that horrid crime. I can't believe it." "I am sure he didn't--I am sure he didn't," cried the girl impulsively. "He is a gentleman, father. He couldn't--" Braddock took instant offense. He hated to hear any one spoken of as a gentleman. "What's that got to do with it?" he demanded. "Gentleman, eh? You two seem to think that these pretty gentlemen can't do anything wrong. Why, they're rottener than nine-tenths of the blokes that follow this show--every mother's son of 'em. I'm sick of having this gentleman business thrown up to me. That's all you two talk about. I suppose you think you're better than the company you live with. Let me tell you this, you're show people and nothin' more. I don't give a damn who your people are; you're my wife and my daughter, and that's all there is to it. I won't stand this sort of--" "Tom, you _must_ keep still," said his wife firmly. He was intoxicated; she knew better than to argue with him, or to agree with him. "All this has nothing to do with the boy. We must give him a chance, the same as--you understand?" He glared at her warningly. "I don't protect thieves and murderers," he said quickly. Then he whirled about and snatched aside the flap, calling to the group of acrobats. "Come out here, you! Step lively. I want to ask a few questions. Where the dev--Say, haven't you got out of that suit yet? Why, you little scuttle, I'll rip it off your back if you're not out of it in two minutes. Hold on! Come out here first."