"I'll take my friend Mr. Squires with me fer a witness—that's all. Is she out in the kitchen?"
"I don't know. I ain't been in the house since the row. She locked the door on me."
The Marshal strode away, leaving Vicious Lucius to the mercy of the women. Harry Squires was nowhere in sight. Mr. Crow looked about in some alarm. His speed noticeably decreased. Fumbling in his coat pocket, he found his police whistle and proceeded to blow a shrill blast upon it. A few moments passed, and then Harry came hurrying around the corner of the house.
"Where have you been, dern you?"
"I've been in the house chatting with Mrs. Fry," said the reporter.
"Is she conscious? Is she able to talk?"
"She certainly is. Come on. She wants to see you."
Harry Squires grasped his arm and led him toward the kitchen door. Mrs. Fry herself admitted them. She looked most formidable.
"Did my daughter Elfaretta ask you to come here and interfere with my private affairs, Anderson Crow?" she demanded.
"I am not supposed to answer questions like that, Mrs. Fry," said Anderson with dignity. "I am pleased to inform you, however, that I have succeeded in arrestin' your husband, an' I intend to see to it that he is locked up fer—"