Lib suddenly relaxed and looked in his face. There was no mistaking the light in Dan’s eye. He had really some glad news. Lib climbed into the machine and sat back wearily, a poor little sinner with all her spirit gone, and allowed herself to be led away from the scene of her sorrow. Things had been going hard in there where Uncle Darcy was with the bad red-haired man. She knew it by the stern look on his face when the door swung back and she got a glimpse. She knew it by the leer on Tyke’s evil face, and by the smug exclamations of the ladies who sat in the back seat and the knowing winks of rough men near the door. She knew it by the hard set of the old Judge’s mouth as he eyed the witnesses, and by the way he worried them with questions now and then like a cat with a mouse. If anything could be glad now, Lib was ready to believe it.
When they had swung the second corner beyond the court house Dan leaned down and whispered:
“Now, Lib, do you know who we’re going after? Guess?”
“God, I guess,” said Lib drearily. “I guess that’s all’s could help my Uncle Darcy any. I heard the men say he was as good as hung now!” She caught a sob with a gulp and let the big tears roll down her worried little face.
“Well, I guess God had something to do with it,” allowed Dan comfortably. “He generally does. Cut out that weeping, Lib. That’s not like you!”
“But it’s all my fault!” she sobbed out, utterly broken at last. “It’s ’cause I went and took that ride with that nasty red-haired man in his motor cycle. He—he—he made me tell where Uncle Darcy was.”
“Why, how did you know where he was?”
“I—I—I didunt!” wept Lib. “I made it up. I told a lie. I said he was in Canada. And I told God it was a lie, huh-huh-huh!” she sobbed. “But it didunt do any good. God didn’t like it.” Dan put one arm around her gently.
“There now, Lib, that’s all nonsense. You did a brave thing and it didn’t have a thing to do with your uncle’s trouble. It probably only held the man off a little longer. Besides, there’s no need for you to worry any more. Listen. Who do you think we’re going after? Joyce Radway. She’s down at Sixty-third Street Station waiting for us now. I just talked to her over the phone.”
Lib Knox sat up as straight as a pipe stem and her eyes got round and great behind their tears: