"It's all right, ma'am," explained the clerk, calmly.
"But he's done nothing wrong."
"You can't take chances with these bums. They're a bad lot. He's a tough customer, Biggs is. Don't have anything to do with strangers on the street. It's not safe." By this time the red-faced guardian of the peace was with them again, and Justine reluctantly explained her dilemma to him.
"He worked here for a long time as a newspaper artist," she said, in conclusion.
"I've seen his pictures many a time," said the clerk with new interest. "Is he your husband?"
"Yes, sir."
"I guess he's not on the paper now. I haven't seen his pictures for some time."
"He's been off the paper for nearly a year."
"Come wid me to hidquarters, ma'am, an' the chief'll sind some wan out to loca—ate him before night," said the officer. "Sthate yer case to the boss. It won't be no thrick to find him."
"I hate to have the police look for him," said she imploringly.