ey, when you didn't look as if you had any,
as a man who had swindled people out of it and wanted to hide his face.

The police joked Lambert about the size of his bag when they gave it
back to him as he was starting with his prisoner for the train.

"What have you got in that alligator, Sheriff, that you're so careful
not to set it down and forget it?" the chief asked him.

"Sixteen thousand dollars," said Lambert, modestly, opening it and
flashing its contents before their eyes.

CHAPTER XXV

"WHEN SHE WAKES UP"

It was mid-afternoon of a bright autumn day when Lambert approached
Glendora with Kerr chained to the seat beside him. As the train rapidly
cut down the last few miles, Lambert noted a change in his prisoner's
demeanor. Up to that time his carriage had been melancholy and morose,
as that of a man who saw no gleam of hope ahead of him. He had spoken
but seldom during the journey, asking no favors except that of being
allowed to send a telegram to Grace from Omaha.

Lambert had granted that request readily, seeing nothing amiss in Kerr's
desire to have his daughter meet him and lighten as much as she could
his load of disgrace. Kerr said he wanted her to go with him to the
county seat and arrange bond.

"I'll never look through the bars of a jail in my home county," he said.
That was his one burst of rebellion, his one boast, his one approach to
a discussion of his serious situation, all the way.

Now as they drew almost within sight of Glendora, Kerr became fidgety
and nervous. His face was strained and anxious, as if he dreaded
stepping off the train into sight of the people who had known him so
long as a man of consequence in that community.

Lambert began to have his own worries about this time. He regretted the
kindness he had shown Kerr in permitting him to send that telegram to
Grace. She might try to deliver him on bail of another kind. Kerr's
nervous anxiety would seem to indicate that he expected something to
happen at Glendora. It hadn't occurred to Lambert before that this might
be possible. It seemed a foolish oversight.

His apprehension, as well as Kerr's evident expectation, seemed
groundless as he stepped off the train almost directly in front of the
waiting-room door, giving Kerr a hand down the steps. There was nobody
in sight but the postmaster with the mail sack, the station agent, and
the few citizens who always stood around the station for the thrill of
seeing the fli