HARRINGTON had watched the demonstration of gratitude to the Salisheuttes get under way, then judged that the moment had come when he could slip off to attend to a private affair of paramount importance. The courthouse being so entirely surrounded, he decided that it would be good strategy to retire into the corridor and across the bridge of sighs to where White or one of the guards could let him out of the front door of the jail. This tactical movement developed perfectly. Not a soul was in sight nearer than some men absorbed in the exploration of debris in basements away off on the other side of Sound Avenue—not a soul, except that as he leaped down the steps Lahleet appeared most casually from under the trees.
"You little life-saver!" he cried, reaching for her with both hands. "What did you run away for?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he demanded eagerly: "Did you see it? . . . Wasn't it great? . . . Worth all the chamber of commerce agony—worth everything!"
"No! Not everything!" objected Lahleet, with a wayward switch of her shoulders. Evidently she was in a contrary mood, perhaps meaning to punish him for forgetting her a while ago; and Harrington noticed that the aboriginal in her was somehow less disguised than he had ever seen it. There was more of the feline in her expression; she was more wilful in manner and
