Courteau raised himself with difficulty; he groped for the bar and supported himself dizzily thereon, snarling from the pain. With his free hand he felt his cheek where Pierce's knuckles had found lodgment; then, as a fuller realization of the indignity his privileged person had suffered came home to him, he burst into a torrent of frenzied abuse. "Shut up!" the officer growled, unsympathetically. "I know as much about that trial at Sheep Camp as you do, and if Phillips hadn't floored you I would. That's how you stand with me. You, too!" he shot at the McCaskeys. "Let me warn you if this is a frame-up you'll all go on the woodpile for the winter. D'you hear me? Of course, if you want to press this charge I'll make the arrest, but I'll just take you three fellows along so you can do some swearing before the colonel, where it'll go on the records." "Arrest? But certainly!" screamed the Count. "The fellow is a thief, a pig. He struck me. ME! You saw him. I--" "Sure, I saw him!" the officer grinned. "I was afraid he'd miss you. Stop yelling and come along." With a nod that included the McCaskeys as well as the titled speaker he linked arms with Pierce Phillips and led the way out into the night. "W'at fool biznesse!" Doret indignantly exclaimed. "Dat boy is hones' as church." He looked down at the sound of Rouletta's voice; then he started. The girl's face was strained and white and miserable; her hands were clasped over her bosom; she was staring horrified at the door through which Phillips had been taken. She swayed as if about to fall. 'Poleon half dragged, half carried her out into the street; with his arm about her waist he helped her toward her hotel. The walk was a silent one, for Rouletta was in a state bordering upon collapse; gradually she regained control of herself and stumbled along beside him. "They're three to one," she said, finally. "Oh, 'Poleon! They'll swear it on him. The Police are strict; they'll give him five years. I heard the colonel say so." "Dere's been good deal of short-weighin', but--" Doret shook his head. "Nobody goin' believe Courteau. And McCaskey is dam' t'ief." "If--only I--could help him. You'll go to him, 'Poleon, won't you? Promise." Silently the Canadian assented. They had reached the door of the hotel before he spoke again; then he said slowly, quietly: "You been playin' 'hearts' wit' HIM, ma soeur? You--you love him? Yes?" "Oh--yes!" The confession came in a miserable gasp. "Bien! I never s'pect biff ore. Wal, dat's all right." "The Police are swift and merciless," Rouletta persisted, fearfully. "They hate the Front Street crowd; they'd like to make an example." "Go in your li'l bed an' sleep," he told her, gently. "Dis t'ing is comin' out all right. 'Poleon fix it, sure; he's dandy fixer."