house, late that night, the thought of
punishment brought little consolation to a heart-broken corps of
policemen.

Big, husky men sobbed like women. Death on duty was no stranger in
their lives; but the loss of rollicking, generous Maguire was a bitter
shock just the same.

And next morning, as Burke read the papers, after a wretched, sleepless
night, he saw the customary fifteen line article, headed: "ANOTHER
POLICEMAN MURDERED BY GANGSTERS." Five million fellow New Yorkers
doubtless saw the brief story as well, and passed it by to read the
baseball gossip, the divorce news, or the stock quotations--without a
fleeting thought of regret.

It was just the same old story, you know.

Had it been the story of a political boss's beer-party to the bums of
his ward; had it been an account of Mrs. Van Astorbilt's elopement with
a plumber; had it been the life-story of a shooting show girl; had it
been the description of the latest style in slit skirts; had it been a
sarcastic message from some drunken, over-rated city official; had it
been a sympathy-squad description of the hardships and soul-beauties of
a millionaire murderer it would have met with close attention.

But what is so stale as the oft-told, ever-old yarn of a policeman's
death?

"What do we pay them for?"

CHAPTER XIII

LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE

In the same morning papers Burke saw lengthy notices of the engagement
of Miss Sylvia Trubus, only child of William Trubus, the famous
philanthropist, to Ralph Gresham, the millionaire manufacturer of
electrical machinery.

"There, that should interest Mr. Barton. His ex-employer is marrying
into a very good family, to put it mildly, and Trubus will have a very
rich son-in-law! I wonder if she'll be as happy as I intend to make
Mary when she says the word?"

He cut one of the articles out of the paper, putting it into his pocket
to show Mary that evening. He had a wearing and sorrowful day; his
testimony was important for the arraignment of the dozen or more
criminals who had been rounded up through his efforts during the
preceding twenty-four hours. The gloom of Maguire's death held him in
its pall throughout the day in court.

He hurried uptown to meet Mary as she left the big confectionery store
at closing time.

Mary had been busy and worried through the day. At noon she had gone
to the station to bid goodbye to Henrietta Bailey, who was now well on
her way to the old town and Joe.