"Stop?" said the other. "Her? That's E.M. Pierce's she-whelp. True to the breed. She don't care no more for a workin'-woman's life than her father does for a workin'-man's."
A policeman hurried up, glanced at the woman and sent in an ambulance call.
"I want your name," said Hal to the stranger.
"What for?"
"Publication now. Later, prosecution. I'm the editor of the 'Clarion.'"
The man took off his hat and scratched his head. "Leave me out of it," he said.
"You won't help me to get justice for this woman?'" cried Hal.
"What can you do to E.M. Pierce's girl in this town?" retorted the man fiercely. "Don't he own the town?"
"He doesn't own the 'Clarion.'"
"Let the 'Clarion' go up against him, then. I daresn't."