"What is the charge?" asked Lorison.
"Grand larceny. Diamonds. Her husband is a

jeweller in Chicago. She cleaned his show case of the
sparklers, and skipped with a comic-opera troupe."

The policeman, perceiving that the interest of the entire
group of spectators was centred upon himself and Lorison

-- their conference being regarded as a possible new com-
plication -- was fain to prolong the situation -- which

reflected his own importance -- by a little afterpiece of
philosophical comment.

"A gentleman like you, Sir," he went on affably,
"would never notice it, but it comes in my line to observe

what an immenseamount of trouble is made by that com-
bination -- I mean the stage, diamonds and light-headed

women who aren't satisfied with good homes. I tell
you, Sir, a man these days and nights wants to know what

his women folks are up to."
The policeman smiled a good night, and returned to

the side of his charge, who had been intently watching
Lorison's face during the conversation, no doubt for

some indication of his intention to render succour. Now,
at the failure of the sign, and at the movement made to

continue the ignominious progress, she abandoned" target="_blank" title="a.被抛弃的；无约束的">abandoned hope,
and addressed him thus, pointedly:

"You damn chalk-faced quitter! You was thinking
of giving me a hand, but you let the cop talk you out of

it the first word. You're a dandy to tie to. Say, if you
ever get a girl, she'll have a picnic. Won't she work

you to the queen's taste! Oh, my!" She concluded
with a taunting, shrill laugh that rasped Lorison like a

saw. The policemen urged her forward; the delighted
train of gaping followers closed up the rear; and the

captive Amazon, accepting her fate, extended the scope
of her maledictions so that none in hearing might seem

to be slighted.
Then there came upon Lorison an overwhelming

revulsion of his perspective. It may be that he had
been ripe for it, that the abnormal condition of mind in

which he had for so long existed was already about to
revert to its balance; however, it is certain that the events

of the last few minutes had furnished the channel, if not
the impetus, for the change.

The initial determining influence had been so small
a thing as the fact and manner of his having been

approached by the officer. That agent had, by the style
of his accost, restored the loiterer to his former place in

society. In an instant he had been transformed from
a somewhat rancid prowler along the fishy side streets of

gentility into an honest gentleman, with whom even so
lordly a guardian of the peace might agreeably exchange

the compliments.
This, then, first broke the spell, and set thrilling in him

a resurrected longing for the fellowship of his kind, and
the rewards of the virtuous. To what end, he vehemently

asked himself, was this fanciful self-accusation, this
empty renunciation, this moral squeamishness through

which he had been led to abandon what was his heritage
in life, and not beyond his deserts? Technically, he was

uncondemned; his sole guilty spot was in thought rather
than deed, and cognizance of it unshared by others. For

what good, moral or sentimental, did he slink, retreating
like the hedgehog from his own shadow, to and fro in this

musty Bohemia that lacked even the picturesque?
But the thing that struck home and set him raging was

the part played by the Amazonian prisoner. To the
counterpart of that astounding belligerent -- identical

at least, in the way of experience -- to one, by her own
confession, thus far fallen, had he, not three hours since,

been united in marriage. How desirable and natural it
had seemed to him then, and how monstrous it seemed

now! How the words of diamond thief number two yet
burned in his ears: "If you ever get a cirl, she'll have a

picnic. What did that that this women instinc-
tively knew him for one they could hoodwink? Still again,

there reverberated the policeman's sapient contribution
to his agony: "A man these days and nights wants to

know what his women folks are up to." Oh, yes, he had
been a fool; he had looked at things from the wrong

standpoint.
But the wildest note in all the clamour was struck by

pain's forefinger, jealousy. Now, at least, he felt that
keenest sting -- a mounting love unworthily bestowed.

Whatever she might be, he loved her; he bore in his own
breast his doom. A grating, comic flavour to his pre-

dicament struck him suddenly, and he laughed creakingly
as he swung down the echoing pavement. An impetuous

desire to act, to battle with his fate, seized him. He
stopped upon his heel, and smote his palms together

triumphantly. His wife was -- where? But there was
a tangible link; an outlet more or less navigable, through

which his derelict ship of matrimony might yet be safely
towed -- the priest!

Like all imaginative men with pliable natures, Lorison
was, when thoroughly stirred, apt to become tempest-

uous. With a high and stubbornindignation upon him,
be retraced his steps to the intersecting street by which

he had come. Down this he hurried to the corner where
he had parted with -- an astringent grimace tinctured the

thought -- his wife. Thence still back he harked, follow-
ing through an unfamiliar district his stimulated recollec-

tions of the way they had come from that preposterous
wedding. Many times he went abroad, and nosed his

way back to, the trail, furious.
At last, when he reached the dark, calamitous building

in which his madness had culminated, and found the
black hallway, he dashed down it, perceiving no light

or sound. But he raised his voice, hailing loudly; reckless
of everything but that he should find the old mischief-

maker with the eyes that looked too far awav to see the
disaster he had wrought. The door opened, and in the

stream of light Father Rogan stood, his book in hand,
with his finger marking the place.

"Ah!" cried Lorison. "You are the man I want. I
had a wife of you a few hours ago. I would not trouble

you, but I neglected to note how it was done. Will you
oblige me with the information whether the business is

beyond remedy?"
"Come inside," said the priest; "there are other lodgers

in the house, who might prefer sleep to even a gratified
curiosity."

Lorison entered the room and took the chair offered
him. The priest's eyes looked a courteous interrogation.

"I must apologize again," said the young man, "for so
soon intruding upon you with my marital infelicities,

but, as my wife has neglected to furnish me with her
address, I am deprived of the legitimaterecourse of a