room, meditating over the scene that had just transpired.

"I was right in smoothing the thing over," he muttered; "one never
cares for the report of a little beggar like that. Who would believe
her? But this Chester might tell the thing in a way that would prove
awkward; a man like him has no business in the police. He thinks for
himself and acts for himself, I'll be sworn; besides, he is a fine,
gentlemanly-looking fellow, and somehow the people get attached to
such men, and are influenced by them. It always pleases me to twist
the star from a breast like that. It shall be done!" he added,
suddenly. "His language to me, a magistrate, is reason enough for
breaking him; but then I must not bring the complaint. It can be
managed without that."

Thus gently musing over his hopes of vengeance on a man, who,
belonging to an adverse party, had dared to speak the truth rather
too eloquently in his presence, the Mayor spent perhaps half an hour
very much in his usual way; for he had always some small plot to ripen
just before retiring for the night, and his plan of vengeance on poor
Chester was only a little more piquant than others, because it was
more directly personal.




CHAPTER III.

THE POLICEMAN'S GUEST.