The muscles of his jaw were working. He seemed to have
formed a habit of jamming his hands far down into his coat pockets.
"That was the only chance _he'll_ ever have," was his sententious
remark. No other word was uttered until they were inside the house,
Mrs. Braddock's gasp of relief could not have been called a sigh.
"Thank God!" she breathed, sinking upon the hall seat and clasping her
clenched hands to her breast.
Braddock shot a quick glance up the broad stairway. The surroundings
were strange to him,--he had never been inside the home of his father-
in-law before,--but he knew that Christine was somewhere overhead.
"How's Christine, Mary?" he asked roughly.
"She is wretchedly unhappy, Tom."
"Umph!" was the way he received it, but a close observer might have
seen the flutter of his eyelids and the sharp, convulsive movement in
the coat pockets. "I don't want her to see me," he said.
"She wants to see you--"
He faced her angrily. "No! I've got to take care of my nerves. I can't
take any chances on having 'em upset. See here, David," he said,
lowering his voice and speaking with deadly emphasis, "that talk of
yours about swearing out a warrant for Grand don't go, do you
understand? I don't want him to be arrested.
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