it looked bad for Daddums. A party like Mrs. Connie
Murtha, with all the police drag she must have, wa'n't goin' to be
separated from her reserve roll without makin' somebody squirm good and
plenty. He might have known that, if it was him turned the trick. Or was
he nutty, like Donahue had said? Before I went any further I had to
settle that point, and while I ain't strong for payin' visits through
the iron bars I was up early next mornin' and down presentin' my pass.

"You cub lawyers give me shootin' pains in the neck!" grumbles the
turnkey that tows me in.

"How'd you guess I wa'n't the new District Attorney?" says I. "Here,
have a perfecto for that pain." And that soothes him so much he loafs
against the tier rail while I knocks on the door of Cell 69.

"I beg pardon?" says a deep, smooth voice, and up to the bars steps a
tall, round-shouldered gent, with hair a little thin on top and a pair
of reddish-gray butler sideboards in front of his ears. Not a bad face
either, only the pointed chin is a little weak.

"I'm from Helma," says I.

That jolts him at the start. His hands go trembly, and twice he makes a
stab at speakin' before he can get the words out. "Is--isn't she all
right?" says he. "I left her in lodgings, you know. I--I trust she----"

"She quit," says I. "They was goin' to put her in a home. Picked me up
on the street, you might say. But she's safe enough now."

"Safe?" says he, dartin' over a suspicious look. "Where?"

"Take my word for it," says I. "Maybe we can swap a little information
later on. Now what about this grand larceny charge?"

"All rubbish!" says he. "Why, I hadn't been out of the house! They admit
that. If I'd taken the money, wouldn't it have been found on me?"

"Then they pinched you on the premises?" says I. "I rather thought from
what Helma said you'd been to see her that night?"

"Not since the night before," says he. "Helma was down in the kitchen
with Cook when they came."

"Huh!" says I, rubbin' my chin as a help to deep thought. "The night
before?"

I don't know why, either, but somehow that makes me think of sawdust,
and from sawdust--say, I had it in a flash.

"Sorry, Allston," says I, "but on account of Helma I was kind of in hopes
they was just makin' a goat of you. She's a cute youngster--Helma."

"She is all I have to live for, Sir," says he, bowin' his head.

"Then why take such chances as this?" says I. "Twenty thousand! Say, you
know this ain't any jay