"Heaven knows! We have never quarreled with them!"
By this time the mob was augmented by swarms of gamins and roughs of the neighborhood, but a change of tone in the uproar indicated that there was some opposition to their mischief-making.
"It is the police who have come," said Mrs. Barlow, but Emily clung to Robert, so that he could neither approach the window nor go downstairs to the door without violence to the fragile girl he loved. For many minutes she held him there, till the murmurs below were mingled with shrieks of pain, and their dispersion and diminution told of the scattering of the crowd. Mrs. Barlow cautiously peeped out.
"They are arresting Mr. Galuby. He is covered with blood," she cried. Just then came a loud knocking at the front door. Robert tore himself free and ran down to open it. A police sergeant stepped inside.
"What is it all about?" asked Floyd.
"We'll give you safe escort to the cars. Hurry up!"
"Why should I be escorted?"
"Galuby's girl was killed in the fire and the Poles learned you were here."
"What of that?"
"Why, it's all over town that you set it."