It was Durkin; and now, in a sudden passion of blind fear for him she sprang from the cab-step and tried to beat him back with her naked hands, foolishly, uselessly, for she knew that if once together MacNutt and he would fall on one another and fight it out to the end.
The patrolman caught her back, roughly, and held her.
"What's all this, anyway?" It surprised him a little, as he held her, to find that the woman was not inebriate.
"I want this woman!" cried Durkin, and at the sound of his voice MacNutt leaned forward from the shadows of the half-closed carriage, and the eyes of the two men met, in one pregnant and contending stare.
A flash of inspiration came to the trembling woman.
"I will give everything up to him, officer, if he'll only not make a scene!" She was fumbling at a package in the bosom of her dress.
"He can have his stuff, every bit of it—if he'll let it go at that!"
Durkin caught his cue as he saw the color of one corner of the sealed yellow manila envelope.
"Stand back there!" howled the officer to the crowding circle. "And you, shut up!" he added to MacNutt, now horrible to look upon with suppressed rage.
"This woman lifted a package of mine, officer," said Durkin quickly. "If it's intact, why, let her go!"