e
promptly thrust into concealment beneath the single blanket on his
narrow cot, a half dozen excellent cigars that he stored in a pocket of
his vest, and an envelope that contained two white pellets and a
hastily-written note.

The latter he carried nearer to the window and read its contents
hurriedly; a soundless whistle relieved his emotions when he had
finished its perusal. He was briefly pensive.

"Well--why not?" he demanded of himself finally. "She's not such a bad
looker--and she's sure got a brain!"

He secreted the letter inside his shirt, proposing to destroy it at the
first opportunity, then settled himself to the tranquil enjoyment of
Drusilla's dainties quite as if no weightier matter than her pastry
portended. A hearty eater always, he did not desist until the last
fragment of the damaged pie concluded his repast. Then he went to the
door of his cell, stuck his head between the bars and hailed the seated
figure of his personal attendant.

"Wotcher want?" asked Moody, grudgingly coming to his call.

"Thought you might like a cigar," explained his prisoner, poking one
through the grille. "Smoke 'em, don't you?"

"When I c'n get 'em," admitted the jailer, and regarded this one with
the dark suspicion of a man who has been the victim of practical jokes
before. "What's the matter with it?"

"Nothin'. Smoke up! Gimme a match, will you?"

"You ain't supposed to smoke in your cell," objected Moody, but
produced the match and lighted both their cigars. "However, I guess
you won't tell the Chief of Police if I don't!"

"No fear. You're a good sport, Moody. I always knew that."

"Fine cigar," commented the jailer critically.

"Leave it to Drusilla. You can bet she helped herself from the best
box Tom Martin has."

"Women are useful when they provide a man with good tobacco, but in
other ways they can get you into a mortal lot of trouble. Take it from
me, Charlie, and steer clear of 'em."

"I guess you know your way around, eh, Moody?"

"You can tie to that. Frinstance, if you knew as much as me you never
would've got into this jail."

"I expect you're right. You've got a head on your shoulders!"

"Well, it's an ill wind that blows nobody some good," reflected the
jailer complacently. "I'm gettin' a dollar a day because you coveted
your neighbor's tomatoes and then had no more sense than to shy one at
him. Missed him, too, they tell me."

"I won't miss him another time if I get