"You all know now," he said slowly, staring with strained piteous eyes at the little lifeless body--"you understand,--the motor killed my Kiddie! He was playing on the road--I was close by among the trees--I saw the cursed car coming full speed downhill--I rushed to take the boy, but was too late--he cried once--and then--silence! All the laughter gone out of him--all the life and love----" He paused with a shudder.--"I carried him all the way, and followed the car," he went on--"I would have followed it to the world's end! I ran by a short cut down near the sea,--and then--I saw the thing break down. I thanked God for that! I tracked the murderers here,--I meant to kill the man who killed my child!--and I have done it!" He paused again. Then he held out his hands and looked at the constable. "May I--before I go--take him in my arms--and kiss him?" he asked. The chief officer nodded. He could not speak, but he unfastened Tom's manacles and threw them on the floor. Then Tom himself moved feebly and unsteadily to where the women knelt beside his dead child. They rose as he approached, but did not turn away. "You have hearts, you women!" he said faintly. "You know what it is to love a child! And Kiddie,--Kiddie was such a happy little fellow!--so strong and hearty!--so full of life! And now--now he's stiff and cold! Only this morning he was jumping and laughing in my arms----" He broke off, trembling violently, then with an effort he raised his head and turned his eyes with a wild stare upon all around him. "We are only poor folk!" he went on, in a firmer voice. "Only gypsies, tinkers, road-menders, labourers, and the like! We cannot fight against the rich who ride us down! There's no law for us, because we can't pay for it. We can't fee the counsel or dine the judge! The rich can pay. They can trample us down under their devilish motor-cars, and obliging juries will declare our wrongs and injuries and deaths to be mere 'accident' or 'misadventure'! But if _they_ can kill, by God!--so can _we_! And if the law lets them off for murdering our children, we must take the law into our own hands and murder _them_ in turn--ay! even if we swing for it!" No one spoke. The women still sobbed convulsively, but otherwise there was a great silence. Tom o' the Gleam stretched forth his hands with an eloquent gesture of passion.