s protested that she did not want a companion. The
constable would protect her, she said, and she would sit up all night
and read. She nodded at the periodicals on the club table.

"This is the only chance I may ever have," she said, "to read the
'Police Gazette'!"

"You ready there?" called the constable.

"Good-night," said Winthrop.

Under the eyes of the grinning yokels, they shook hands.

"Good-night," said the girl.

"Where's your young man?" demanded the chief of police.

"My what?" inquired Winthrop.

"The young fellow that was with you when we held you up that first
time."

The constable, or the chief of police as he called himself, on the
principle that if there were only one policeman he must necessarily be
the chief, glanced hastily over the heads of the crowd.

"Any of you holding that shoffer?" he called.

No one was holding the chauffeur.

The chauffeur had vanished.

The cell to which the constable led Winthrop was in a corner of the
cellar in which formerly coal had been stored. This corner was now
fenced off with boards, and a wooden door with chain and padlock.

High in the wall, on a level with the ground, was the opening, or
window, through which the coal had been dumped. This window now was
barricaded with iron bars. Winthrop tested the door by shaking it, and
landed a heavy kick on one of the hinges. It gave slightly, and
emitted a feeble groan.

"What you tryin' to do?" demanded the constable. "That's town
property."

In the light of the constable's lantern, Winthrop surveyed his cell
with extreme dissatisfaction.

"I call this a cheap cell," he said.

"It's good enough for a cheap sport," returned the constable. It was
so overwhelming a retort that after the constable had turned the key in
the padlock, and taken himself and his lantern to the floor above,
Winthrop could hear him repeating it to the volunteer firemen. They
received it with delighted howls.

For an hour, on the three empty boxes that formed his bed, Winthrop
sat, with his chin on his fists, planning the nameless atrocities he
would inflict upon the village of Fairport. Compared to his tortures,
those of Neuremberg were merely reprimands. Also he considered the
particular punishment he would mete out to Sam Forbes for his desertion
of his sister, and to Fred. He could not understand Fred. It was not
like the chauffeur to think only of himself. Nevertheless, for
abandoning Miss Forbes in the h