"Ta-ta, bully, hope I won’t see you soon again," he said, nodding impudently to the door-keeper. The smaller man was lame, as well as deformed; and the under-warden, who had joined Galbraith, asked him kindly how his leg was doing. "Better, sir, thank you," croaked the unfortunate in a harsh voice; "it came hard on me not havin’ George here to help me; but it’s all right now. Good-morning to you, sir." "Tell me about those men," said Millicent to an official whom Galbraith had introduced to her. "They are brothers, George and Pete Marcy. Which of them do you think paid a twenty-dollar fine to get his brother out of prison just now? Likely you ’ll think it was the good-looking chap; but ’t was Pete the dwarf. He ’s the tinker and general useful man of the town, is Pete; and George is one of the biggest rascals in the State of California. But he covers his tracks well; and though we know a good many things about him, we can prove nothing more against him than an occasional assault and battery." "And did the poor little creature pay the fine out of his earnings?" "Bless you, yes; and pays for his clothes,--nice ones, you remarked, mebbe? Pete gives that rascal every dollar he earns; and the only thing George does toward supporting himself, is to rob an occasional hen-roost when he wants to give a supper party." The outer door now closed with a grave sound; it had let out its day’s quota of men and women who had legally expiated their crimes; it had taken in its one breath of sun and air. From a narrow window Millicent saw the Marcy brothers walking down the street, George with head erect and swaggering gait, Pete shambling awkwardly along at his side, vainly trying to keep pace with his handsome brother’s long strides. The warden now led the way to the court-room. The keeper of the gate, a stern-looking man, with iron-gray hair and iron-rusted clothes, stopped Millicent as she was about to pass through the grated door, saying,-- "Put up your veil, please." Three inches of transparent red tulle masked her face from the brow to the mouth. So slight a covering was it that the superior officer had not noticed it; but nothing escaped the lynx-eyed jailer, who added curtly, "Must keep it up all through the prison. No woman is allowed to enter or leave this place veiled." Millicent looked a little puzzled as she unfastened the bit of lace; and the grim guardian added, in a voice which was something softer than the grating of his key in the lock,-- "You need n’t be ashamed to put up your veil, with _such_ a face as yours." Millicent smiled an acknowledgment of the compliment, and passed through the gate, holding fast to the slip of yellow paper and the red ticket which had been given to her, and which were necessary to secure an exit from that precinct which is so easily entered and so difficult to leave. "You have captivated that grim old fellow with one glance, Miss Almsford. How do you do it?" queried Galbraith.