"I can't get a thing out of her. She insists on seeing you, father, and says she won't go till she does."
"Bring her in," growled the chief, and as George disappeared he turned to Babbitts and said, "Wait here for a moment. I want to ask you a few more things about that girl last night."
Babbitts drew back to the window and I, taking a chair by the table, said, laughing:
"She's probably been sued by her landlord and wants you to take the case."
"Maybe," said the old man quietly. "I'm curious to see."
Just then the woman came in, the child beside her, and George following. She looked at the chief with a steady, inquiring gaze, and he rose, as urbanely welcoming as if she were a star client.
"You want to see me, Madam?"
"I do," she answered, "if you're L'yer Whitney. For it's to no one else I'll be goin' with what I'm bringin'."
He assured her she'd found the right man, and waved her to a chair. She sat down, drawing the boy against her knee, the chief opposite, leaning a little forward in his chair, all encouraging attention.
"Well, what is it?" he said.