Margaret Cameron

“ Brainard laughed, "but I promise to fix it so somebody will take a real, sure-enough interest in George. Will that do?"
You certainly are a comfort! And you'll tell George, so he'll know we're looking out for him, won't you?"
"Tell him? Cæsar! You don't expect me to go and see him, too, do you?"
"Why, surely! Maybe a lawyer isn't all he needs. Maybe he's sick, Maybe they don't give him enough to eat. Maybe he hasn't any money. ”

“ Haven't I trouble enough now?" cried Brainard. "For Heaven's sake, man, be human! Keep this out of print! I've missed my ship—"
"Have you actually missed it?" Aldrich asked.
"Sure I've missed it! She sailed at three-twenty. And I can't find my wife at the dock or the hotel or anywhere, so I suppose she's on board—alone," he added, grimly.
"Well, you can reach her by wireless," Wilson comforted him, "and arrange for her to meet you on the other side. By George, you can meet her! The Transitania sails at one o'clock to-morrow morning and docks two or three days ahead of the Atlantis!" ”

“ MAN LISTENED ATTENTIVELY
"Then I'll just have to go down to those tombs myself."
"My dearest, you can't do that!"
"But don't you see that I can't go away without I know that boy's all right? He's Mammy Liza's boy—her baby—and she thinks he's mighty near all there is."
"Yes, I know, love, but if I arrange it all with the lawyer—"
"Seems like you-all up North never can understand how we feel down home about our mammies." Leslie's sweet brown eyes were full of tears, and there was a catch in her pleading voice. "Why, Ned, I just love that old black woman! She's taken care of me all my life. ”

“ The prisoners frame up all sorts of schemes, and we take no chances."
"But—look here, man. I've got to catch that ship! It—it's our wedding journey! I was married four days ago."
"That so?" The warden's expression softened, but only for a moment. Shaking his head slightly, he added, with a level, penetrating glance, "I'm sorry—but you sure chose a bad day to visit the Tombs!"
Having again obtained permission to talk to his wife, Brainard called up the dock and attempted to have her summoned to the telephone, but the man at the other end scoffed, nor was he moved by promise of reward. ”

“ Keeper," said Brainard, pacifically, as he detached a yellow-tinged bank-note from the impressive roll in his hand. "I understand your position perfectly, and I'm sorry to trouble you again, but I've got to get out of this place somehow, even if I haven't any card. There are plenty of people to identify me, if I can only get at them. There's that man McLean—and a reporter named Wilson, over at the Criminal Courts—and Assistant-District-Attorney Aldrich is an old friend of mine. ”

“ Brainard, that I don't question your word," he said, "but under the circumstances you'll have to be identified before I can let you go."
"Then will you send for McLean, please? He's the nearest man. And may I telephone to my wife? We're due to sail on the Atlantis at three o'clock."
"The dickens you are!" exclaimed the warden, and hastily summoned a messenger, while Ned reached for the telephone.
Learning that Leslie had left the hotel, he arranged to have one of the clerks follow her with a message that her husband had been unavoidably detained, but would arrive at the dock very soon. ”

“ All that worries me is that your precious husband won't find us in time to receive our parting blessings," whereat they all laughed, and the visitors surreptitiously felt for their concealed bags of confetti.
It was perhaps half an hour later—just after the gangway had been withdrawn—that a pallid young woman, whose modish raiment was sprinkled with scraps of bright paper, stopped an officer hurrying along the deck and cried: "Oh, please, I must see the captain!" ”

“ When they arrived on the third tier the clerk introduced Brainard to the keeper, whose name was Shanley, and briefly explained his errand, while the visitor glanced curiously about at the lobby, the desk, and the cells extending in long rows on either side of narrow corridors.
"You're all righd dow," McLean concluded. "Good-day. You're welcob." Sneezing, he disappeared down the stairway.
Shanley looked in his big book and found that "George Johnson. Assault, first degree. Indicted June 1st," was in Cell 336. "Right down that alley," he directed. "You can't miss it." ”

“ When Ned had established his identity the busy editor was very cordial, and not only agreed to see that George had able counsel, but promised to take a personal interest in the boy. He suggested also that, inasmuch as Brainard was in haste, a cicerone familiar with the routine of the Tombs might facilitate his business there, and offered the services of Bob Wilson, the reporter covering the criminal courts for The Evening Sphere, a courtesy promptly and gratefully accepted. ”

“ The deputy commissioner had not noticed Wilson's friend especially, and the keeper said McLean told him his man would be there only a few minutes, so he had instructed his relief at lunch-time to let him out and supposed he had done so. This relief guard was not in the building.
"But aren't you satisfied now?" Brainard demanded. "Both these men have agreed that just the thing I have described happened."
"That's not sufficient. You will understand that letting an unidentified man out of this place is a very serious business. ”

“ We must leave here by two o'clock, at the very latest, and if there should be any delay we might miss the ship. Suppose, instead—"
"Then we'll just have to miss it, that's all!"
Brainard stared. "You don't mean to say you'd give up sailing to get this no-'count nigger out of jail?" he asked, slowly.
Illustration: WE'RE SAFE ENOUGH HERE. NOBODY KNOWS US"
"He's not a 'no-'count nigger'!" Leslie protested, indignant pink spots in her cheeks. "He's a good boy. He works all the time—'most all the time, anyway—and sends money to his mother every month, and you can't say that for many darkies. ”

“ Then if I'm convinced that the jury wouldn't convict him, I guess the court will accept a suggestion to dismiss the indictment. By the way, if I'm not here you'd better leave a note telling me what you find. I wish I could ask you to come back and have lunch with me, but I have an appointment in about half an hour that I can't sidestep."
Brainard explained that in any event his time was too limited to permit of luncheon, warmly thanked Aldrich for his promised co-operation, and continued his quest under the reporter's guidance. ”