and he never noticed, across
the street, the progress of Emil Einstein, threading the crowds
swiftly, and yet furtively watching his master's progress. He
reached Fourteenth Street two blocks in advance of his unsuspecting
employer, and then paused for a moment in the shaded corridor of
a photographer's atelier.

With a whispered word, the young spy slipped, eel-like, into the
crowd and had regained his desk long before Randall Clayton reentered
the office. The lad's face glowed with a secret triumph.

Clayton's countenance was flushed by some strong emotion as he
absently entered the private office of the head accountant. The
sharp clang of his bell brought the office boy at once to his side,
when, ten minutes later, the young cashier handed to Einstein a
telegram.

The doors of the various rooms were now clanging with the snap of
the locks as the boy respectfully said, "Anything else for this
afternoon, sir?" Clayton carelessly nodded for the lad's dismissal
and then bowed his tired head upon his hands, as the nimble youth
eagerly sped away to the telegraph office and his half holiday.

The office staff were all filing out, wearied with the week's work,
and Robert Wade, Esq., the chief manager, stared in surprise as
Clayton passed him without a word, in answer to his stately greeting.
He watched the young man, who slowly descended by the stairway,
forgetting the ready elevator service. "What's up with Clayton?"
murmured the pompous official. "He forgot his manners!"

All unconscious of his strange actions, Randall Clayton slowly sought
the street level, waiting until his colaborers had all departed.
He then moved along again toward the window where the Danube view
still charmed the passerby.

Then, turning abruptly, he hurried away to a Broadway car, seeking
the solitude of the cosy apartment in the still respectable
"Thirties," which he had so long shared with Ferris.

He dared not, as yet, ask himself why Fate had shown him, a second
time, at that very window, the graceful figure of the beautiful
unknown.

But, there, with the slender music roll still clasped in her
delicate hand, she stood, lingering a beautiful Peri in his path,
on his return from the meeting with Ferris.

And he was not deceived this time. For the blush of semi-recognition,
the womanly embarrassment as their eyes met in a sudden surprise,
told him that she also had lingered for a moment at their involuntary
trysting place.

It wa