t
have given up. Even so, his courage and persistency, and personal
sacrifices, were wonderful to behold.

On the night when Druce was at last removed from the jail Harvey was
standing in an alley opposite the public entrance to the jail watching
the automobile which stood awaiting the coming of someone from within.

Finally he saw the slender figure of a woman emerge from a doorway and
enter the automobile. He knew that figure. He ran across the street and
around the car. He noted its number with one of those keen flashes of
memory, conscious at the moment that he should remember that number as
long as he drew breath.

He flung open the door on the further side of the automobile.

Elsie faced him. "What are you doing here?" she asked in an icy little
voice.

"I--no--Won't you come to your mother, Elsie? Won't you come away from
this man? Your mother and Patience love you so much and have been trying
so hard to find you and--"

"I can't, Harvey--I--perhaps--Oh! Go away. Druce is coming. He will--hurt
you."

"It doesn't matter about me. It's you."

"I--I must stand by my husband."

"Husband! He isn't your husband. He fooled you with a marriage license.
Anybody can get a license in Chicago, but Druce's license was never
returned. He likely got some fellow to pretend to perform the marriage.
Elsie, it wasn't legal, I can prove it."

For an instant Elsie's spirit flamed in her eyes and her burning cheeks
paled. Then she saw Druce coming and she turned towards him wearily, a
strange quivering and drooping of her eyelids alone showing that she had
heard. In the presence of her master she grew meek as a little child.

Harvey drifted back into the shadows of the jail, powerless to help her,
and saw her driven away with the man who had ruined her earthly life.

Fighting his grief and despair, he went to the nearest drug-store and
telephoned Miss Randall of what he had seen.

"Druce out on bail! A murderer out on bail in Chicago!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, Harvey, if only you had thought to jump into a taxicab and follow
them to see where they have been taken."

"I'm no detective. I am going back to Millville. Perhaps I can get back
my old job in the grocery store," he answered grimly.

"Hello! Miss Randall! Hello! I remember the number of the machine." He
gave it.

"Good! Wait a minute till I see whose that is. Hold the wire." She
consulted her list of the automobile numbers entered in Illinois and
found that this