Polk Street Mary was the
sweetheart of Andy Brown. Now in the silent court room the voice of a
woman arose broken with sobs. To the listening crowd in the packed
little room came the story of the tragedy in the darkened house before
which stood the policeman idly swinging his night stick--the story of
a girl from an Illinois village procured and sold to the broker's son
--of the desperate struggle in the little room between the eager
lustful man and the frightened brave-hearted girl--of the blow with
the chair in the hands of the girl that brought death to the man--of
the women of the house trembling on the stairs and the body hastily
pitched into the passageway.
"They told me they would get Andy off when this blew over," wailed the
woman.
* * * * *
McGregor went out of the court room into the street. The glow of
victory was on him and he strode along with his heart beating high.
His way led over a bridge into the North Side and in his wanderings he
passed the apple warehouse where he had made his start in the city and
where he had fought with the German. When night came he walked in
North Clark Street and heard the newsboys shouting of his victory.
Before him danced a new vision, a vision of himself as a big figure in
the city.
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