him," she said succinctly. A contented
smile bent the red graces of her lips.

Burke sneered an indignation that was, nevertheless, somewhat fearful of
what might lie behind the woman's assurance.

"What's the reason?" he demanded, scornfully. "There's the body." He
pointed to the rigid form of the dead man, lying there so very near
them. "And the gun was found on him. And then, you're willing to swear
that he killed him.... Well, I guess we'll convict him, all right. Why
not?"

Mary's answer was given quietly, but, none the less, with an assurance
that could not be gainsaid.

"Because," she said, "my husband merely killed a burglar." In her turn,
she pointed toward the body of the dead man. "That man," she continued
evenly, "was the burglar. You know that! My husband shot him in defense
of his home!" There was a brief silence. Then, she added, with a
wonderful mildness in the music of her voice. "And so, Inspector, as you
know of course, he was within the law!"

CHAPTER XX. WHO SHOT GRIGGS?

In his office next morning, Inspector Burke was fuming over the failure
of his conspiracy. He had hoped through this plot to vindicate his
authority, so sadly flaunted by Garson and Mary Turner. Instead of
this much-to-be-desired result from his scheming, the outcome had been
nothing less than disastrous. The one certain fact was that his most
valuable ally in his warfare against the criminals of the city had been
done to death. Some one had murdered Griggs, the stool-pigeon. Where
Burke had meant to serve a man of high influence, Edward Gilder, by
railroading the bride of the magnate's son to prison, he had succeeded
only in making the trouble of that merchant prince vastly worse in
the ending of the affair by arresting the son for the capital crime of
murder. The situation was, in very truth, intolerable. More than ever,
Burke grew hot with intent to overcome the woman who had so persistently
outraged his authority by her ingenious devices against the law. Anyhow,
the murder of Griggs could not go unpunished. The slayer's identity
must be determined, and thereafter the due penalty of the law inflicted,
whoever the guilty person might prove to be. To the discovery of this
identity, the Inspector was at the present moment devoting himself by
adroit questioning of Dacey and Chicago Red, who had been arrested in
one of their accustomed haunts by his men a short time before.

The policeman on duty at the door was the only