The mention of this last-named public benefactor, caused Papa to shiver violently, and Mamma bent upon him a look of scorn.

"Don't be an idiot, Francoise," she said, sharply. "We've got somethin'

to do besides shakin' an' shiverin'?"

"Time enough ter shiver when the hangman gits ye," added Franz, rea.s.suringly. "But ye needn't fret about cops--I ain't no baby; there ain't no backers outside."

"But, Franzy,--" began Papa.

"Shet up; I'm runnin' this. If there'd a-been any help outside, we wouldn't a-had it so easy, you old fool! That cove in there ain't no coward; he'd a taken the chances with us, and blowed his horn when we first tackled him, if there'd been help handy."

"Ah, what a brain the boy has got!" murmured Mamma, with rapturous pride.

"Look a-here," said Franz, after a moment's consideration, "I'm satisfied that there _ain't_ no cops about; but to set yer mind at rest, old un, so that you kin use it ter help git to the bottom of this business, I'll go and take a look around, and I'll be back in jest five minutes." And he made a quick stride toward the door.

"Now, Franzy,--" began Mamma, coaxingly.

But he waved her back, saying: "Shut up, old woman; I'm runnin' this,"

and went swiftly out.

When the sound of his retreating footsteps was lost to their ears, Papa and Mamma drew close together, and looked into each others' faces--he anxiously, she with a leer of shrewd significance.

"Old man," she said, impressively, "that boy'll be the makin' of us--if we don't let him git us down."

"Eh! what?"

"He's got your cunnin' an' mine together, and he's got all the grit you lack."

"Well," impatiently.

"But he'll want to run us. An' when he knows all _we_ know, he'd put his foot on us if we git in his way."

"Yes," a.s.sented the old man, with a cunning wink, "he's like his ma--considerable."

"On account o' this here cop business," went on Mamma, ignoring the thrust, "he'll have to be told a little about that Siebel affair. But about the rest--not a word. We kin run the other business without his a.s.sistance. Franzy's a fine boy, an' I'm proud of him, but 'twon't do, as I told you afore, to give him too much power. I know the lad."

"Yes," insinuated Papa, with a dry cough, "I reckon you do."

"Ye kin see by the way he took the lead to-night, that he won't play no second part. We'll have to tell him about Siebel--"

"An' about Nance."

"It's the same thing; an' ye'll see what he does when we give him an idea about it."

"I know what he'll do;" with a crafty wink. "I'll tell him _all_ about Nance."

"Yes," muttered the old woman, "ye're good at lyin', and all the sneakin' dodges."

And she turned upon her heel, and went over to the pallet where Nance, undisturbed by the events transpiring around her, still lay as she had fallen in her drunken stupor.

"There's another thing," said Mamma, apparently satisfied with her survey of the unconscious girl, and returning to Papa as she spoke.

"We've got to git out of here, of course, as soon as we've settled that spy in there."

"We'd a-had to git out anyhow," muttered Papa, "on account of that charity minx. Yes, we will; an' we hain't heard from _her_. You'll have to visit her agin."

"I s'pose so. An' when I do--that cop's comin' has given me an idea--I'll bring her to time."

"How?"

Mamma leaned toward him, and touched his shoulder with her bony forefinger.

"Just as that cop 'ud have brought _you_ to time, if it hadn't been for Franzy's comin'."

Over Papa's wizened face a look of startled intelligence slowly spread itself.

"Old woman," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "Satan himself wouldn't a-thought of _that_!

The devil will be proud of ye, someday. But Franzy mustn't see the gal."

"I'll manage that," said Mamma. "It's risky, but it's the only way; I'll manage it."

They had heard no sound, although as they talked they also listened, but while the last words yet lingered on the old woman's lips, the door suddenly opened and Franz entered.

"There's no danger," he said, closing the door and securing it carefully. "Ye kin breathe easy, old top; we're a good deal safer jest now than our 'dark lantern' in there," and he nodded toward the inner room.

"Then," put in Mamma, "while we're safe, we'd better make _him_ safe."

"Don't git in a hurry, old un; we want a better understandin' afore we tackle his case. Come, old rook, git up here, an' let's take our bearings."

He perched himself upon the rickety table, and Papa and Mamma drew the stools up close and seated themselves thereon.

"Now then," began Franz, "who did yon nipped cove come here to see, you or me, old un? He 'pears to know a little about us both."

"Yes," a.s.sented Papa, "so he does."

"What he knows about me, I reckon he told," resumed Franz. "Now, what's the killin' affair mentioned?"

Papa seemed to ponder a moment, and then lifted his eyes to his son's face with a look of bland ingenuousness.

"It's a kind of delicate affair, my boy," he began, in a tone of confidential frankness, "but 'twon't do for _us_ to have secrets from each other--will it, old woman?"

"No," said Mamma; "Franzy's our right hand now. You ort to tell him all about it."

"Oh, git along," burst in Franz. "Give us the racket, an' cut it mighty short--time enough for pertikelers later."

"Quite right, my boy," said Papa, briskly. "Well, here it is: I--I'm wanted, for a witness, in a--a murder case."

"Oh," groaned Franz, in tones of exaggerated grief, "my heart is broke!"

"You needn't laugh, Franzy," remonstrated Papa, aggrieved. "It's the business I was tellin' you about--at the other place, you know."