cote sables, all right. You’ll have to turn ’em over, Moll, but they ain’t too good for you if they cost a million.”
Molly, with anguish in her face, hung upon the Kid’s arm.
“Oh, Kiddy, you’ve broke my heart,” she said. “I was so proud of you—and now they’ll do you—and where’s our happiness gone?”
“Go home,” said the Kid, wildly. “Come on, Ransom—take the furs. Let’s get away from here. Wait a minute—I’ve a good mind to—no, I’ll be d—if I can do it—run along, Moll—I’m ready, Ransom.”
Around the corner of a lumber-yard came Policeman Kohen on his way to his beat along the river. The detective signed to him for assistance. Kohen joined the group. Ransom explained.
“Sure,” said Kohen. “I hear about those saples dat vas stole. You say you have dem here?”
Policeman Kohen took the end of Molly’s late scarf in his hands and looked at it closely.
“Once,” he said, “I sold furs in Sixth avenue. Yes, dese are saples. Dey come from Alaska. Dis scarf is vort $12 and dis muff—”
“Biff!” came the palm of the Kid’s powerful hand upon the policeman’s mouth. Kohen staggered and rallied. Molly screamed. The detective threw him-
[119]
