heart and death in his hand, leaping on that cripple's body--it
made me sick!

I stood there gasping--stood a moment too long. For the curtains
were pushed aside, and Burnett, Latimer's servant, and the cop
came in.

Tom didn't fight; he's no fool to waste himself.

But I--well, never mind about me. I caught a glimpse of a crazy
white face on a boy's body in the great glass opposite and heard
my own voice break into something I'd never heard before.

Tom stood at last with the handcuffs on.

"It's your own fault, you damned little chump!" he said to me,
as they went out.

You lie, Mag Monahan, he's no such thing! He may be a hard man to
live with, but he's mine--my Tom--my Tom!

What? Latimer?

Well, do you know, it's funny about him. He'd told the cop that
I'd peached--peached on Tom! So they went off without me.

Why?

That's what he said himself when we were alone.