"But how long will I be in here? They won't lock me up, will they?" "Of course they will." "Not behind the bars--not in a cell?" Morehead nodded. "I won't stand for it!" blustered the millionaire. Morehead caught him by the arm and looked him in the eye. "You've got to do as I say to the letter, or it means ruin, ruin, do you understand? I know what I'm talking about. You go into a cell without a murmur. The newspapers--all New York will talk about it; everybody will know that Colonel Morehead is gnashing his teeth at the injustice shown you. Morehead is taking an appeal, they will say; but as for you, you'll keep quiet in your cage until I let you out. It won't be long; wait and see." They passed into the Tombs. A deputy warden nodded to Wilkinson. "That was a narrow escape you had, Mr. Wilkinson," he said, referring to the tragedy of an hour or so before. "I--I should think so," faltered Wilkinson, the cold sweat running down his face. "Poor Pallister! Have they got the murderer?" "No," said the warden, "and I doubt if they'll ever get him, either. Still, you never can tell...." "If they should find out, you'll let me know at once, won't you?" urged Wilkinson. The warden promised. The lawyer and his client parted: Colonel Morehead went his way; Wilkinson was shown into a cell. At one o'clock that day, one of the officials unlocked the door of his cell and took him down into a counsel room. Sitting there at a table was a woman with her face in her hands. "Oh, father, I couldn't stay away!" she cried, springing to her feet and smiling bravely. "Leslie--you here--you!" And the next moment he had gathered her in his arms and was patting the head that rested on his shoulders. "I'm so glad to see you, that you're alive and well," she went on affectionately. "Colonel Morehead told me----" "What's Morehead doing?" broke in her father, putting her gently from him. "Turning my stocks and bonds into cash, or getting a surety company bond on them, I don't know which. Isn't it lucky, father, that I had enough--more than enough to help you out? The Colonel says you may have to stay here two or three nights...." Wilkinson was beside himself. "I won't--I won't stay here," he raged. "I'll take the risk----" "What risk?" she asked wonderingly. Her father sobered. "Oh, Leslie, I--I don't know what I'm saying. Don't mind me--I'm unnerved, overwrought. Poor Pallister...." Leslie burst into tears. "Yes, poor, poor Roy," she murmured. "It was awful--simply awful! I was so fond of him, father. He was always so kind, so thoughtful and considerate, and devoted to your interests, wasn't he, father?" Wilkinson merely inclined his head, contenting himself with patting her hand and saying: "There, there, my girl, don't cry."