s a mistake, you can
clear it up at the station-house. I ain't going to touch you. You keep
ahead until you get to the street-door. I'll be right behind, and meet
you on the sidewalk."

Lady Barbara drew herself up proudly. "I won't allow it!" she cried;
"what I told you--"

Pickert swaggered closer. "Drop that, will you? I got my orders. You
heard 'em, didn't you? Will you go easy, or shall I have to--" and he
half dragged a pair of handcuffs from his side pocket. "Now, you do just
as I tell you; it'll all come right, and there won't nobody know what's
goin' on. You get to hollerin' and mussin' up things and there'll be
trouble, see? Open that door now, and walk out just as if everything was
reg'lar."

Chapter XX

The routine of Felix's daily life had been broken this morning by the
receipt of a letter. The postman had handed it to him as he crossed the
street from Kitty's to Kling's, the tramp who was sweeping the sidewalk
having pointed him out.

"That's him," cried the tramp. "That's Mr. O'Day. Catch him before he
gets inside his place, or you'll lose him. Here, I'll take it."

"You'll take nothin'. Get out of my way."

"For me?" asked Felix, coloring slightly as the postman accosted him.

"Yes, if you're Mr. O'Day."

"I'm afraid I am. Thank you. If you have any others, bring them here to
Mr. Kling's, where I can always be found during the day."

He glanced at the seal and the address, but kept it in his hands until
he reached Kling's counter, where he settled into a chair, and with the
greatest care slit the envelope with his knife. A year had passed since
he had received a letter, nor had he expected any.

He read it through to the end, turning the pages again, rereading
certain passages, his face giving no hint of the contents, folded the
sheets, put them back in the envelope, and slid the whole into his
inside pocket. After a little he rose, stood for a moment watching
Fudge, who, now that Masie had gone to school, had taken up his
customary place in the window, his nose pressed against the pane. Then,
as if some sudden resolve had seized him, he walked quickly to the rear
of the store in search of his employer.

Otto was poring over his books, his bald head glistening under the rays
of the gas-jet, which he had lighted to assist him in his work, the
morning being dark.

"I have been wanting to talk to you for some time, Mr. Kling, about
Masie," he began abruptly. "I may be going home