redound to her glory. What he could not see was a mother who would
cling to him and cry over him and for him, and stick by him, just
because she loved him.

"Aw, what's the use? It'll come out--it can't help it. The cops are
out there smelling around now, I bet!"

He arose and worked over the car until it shone immaculately. A
lifetime of continual nagging over little things, while the big things
had been left to adjust themselves, had fixed upon Jack the habit of
attending first to his mother's whims. Mrs. Singleton Corey made it a
point to drive her own car. She liked the feeling of power that it
gave her, and she loved the flattery of her friends. Therefore, even a
murder problem must wait until her automobile was beautifully ready to
back out of the garage into a critical world.

Jack gave a sigh of relief when he wiped his hands on the bunch of
waste and tossed it into a tin can kept for that purpose. Time was
precious to him just now. Any minute might bring the police. Jack did
not feel that he was to blame for what had happened, but he realized
keenly that he was "in wrong" just the same, and he had no intention
of languishing heroically in jail if he could possibly keep out of it.

He hesitated, and finally he went to the house and let himself in
through a window whose lock he had "doctored" months ago. His mother
would not let him have a key. She believed that being compelled to
ring the bell and awaken her put the needful check upon Jack's habits;
that, in trailing downstairs in a silk kimono to receive him and his
explanation of his lateness, she was fulfilling her duty as a mother.