"She is a notorious woman." The swift color came to Mrs.Tucker's face as if the epithet had been applied to herself.

"I suppose," she said in a dry voice, as if she were asking a business question, but with an eye that showed her rising anger,--"I suppose there is some law by which creatures of this kind can be followed and brought to justice--some law that would keep innocent people from suffering for their crimes ?" "I am afraid," said Poindexter, "that arresting her would hardly help these people over in the tienda." "I am not speaking of them," responded Mrs.Tucker, with a sudden sublime contempt for the people whose cause she had espoused: "I am talking of my husband." Poindexter bit his lip.

"You'd hardly think of bringing back the strongest witness against him," he said bluntly.
Mrs.Tucker dropped her eyes and was silent.

A sudden shame suffused Poindexter's cheek; he felt as if he had struck that woman a blow.

"I beg your pardon," he said hastily, "I am talking like a lawyer to a lawyer." He would have taken any other woman by the hand in the honest fullness of his apology, but something restrained him here.