"Eh, what? Miss Ridge, and your brother's name--Smith?" ejaculated the
man of authority.

For a brief moment there was a pause of embarrassment; and then with a
dazzling, bewitching smile directed at her questioner, she electrified
them both:

"Most assuredly. Mr. Smith is my half-brother."

Hugh could have shouted for joy, as he watched the somewhat amused
discomfiture of the officer.

"Where do you live?"

"St. Louis," gasped she, with blind confidence in luck.

"Oh, humph! Well, wait a minute," he said, and both were gratified to
see a good-natured grin on his face. "Buckley, see if there is a family
named Smith in Brooklyn with connection in St. Louis. Sit down, Miss
Ridge, please, and don't be worried. This is what we have to do. Your
driver slugged another of his kind and he's likely to die of the fall he
got. We'll have to use you as witnesses, that's all, an' we must have
you where we can put our hands on you in the mornin'. The captain will
be here in an hour or two and you can probably manage to give some kind
of bond for your appearance. People like you don't like to appear in
court, you see, so we've got to make sure of you."

"But we must go to our--our dinner," she wailed so prettily that he
coughed to cover his official severity.