"I am not sure what you can do until I look into the matter," Michael said gravely. Would the paper he held help or would it not, in his mission to Starr's father? And would it be too late? His heavy heart could not answer.
"Do you know these witnesses?"
"Sure." said Lizzie confidently. "They're all swells. They come down with him when he come to be married. I never seen 'em again, but they was real jolly an' nice. They give me a bokay of real roses an' a bracelet made like a snake with green glass eyes."
"And the minister? Which is his church?"
"I'm sure I donno," said Lizzie. "I never ast. He Come along an' was ez jolly ez enny of 'em. He drank more'n all of 'em put together. He was awful game fer a preacher."
Michael's heart began to sink. Was this a genuine marriage after all? Could anything be proved? He questioned the girl carefully, and after a few minutes sent her on her way promising to do all in his power to help her and arranging to let her know as soon as possible if there was anything she could do.
That was a busy afternoon for Michael. The arrival of the steamer was forgotten. His telephone rang vainly on his desk to a silent room. He was out tramping over the city in search of the witnesses and the minister who had signed Lizzie's marriage certificate.
Meantime the afternoon papers came out with a glowing account of the wedding that was to be, headed by the pictures of Starr and Mr. Carter, for the wedding was a great event in society circles.
Lizzie on her hopeful way back to the alley, confident that Michael, the angel of the alley, would do something for her, heard the boys crying the afternoon edition of the paper, and was seized with a desire to see if her husband's picture would be in again. She could ill spare the penny from her scanty store that she spent for it, but then, what was money in a case like this? Michael would do something for her and she would have more money. Besides, if worst came to worst she would go to the fine lady and threaten to make it all public, and she would give her money.
Lizzie had had more advantages than most of her class in the alley. She had worked in a seashore restaurant several summers and could read a little. From the newspaper account she gathered enough to rouse her half-soothed frenzy. Her eyes flashed fire as she went about her dark little tenement room making baby comfortable. His feeble wail and his sweet eyes looking into hers only fanned the fury of her flame. She determined not to wait for Michael, but to go on her own account at once to that girl that was stealing away her husband, her baby's father, and tell her what she was doing.