beckoning,
backward jerk of his head, I moved over to the desk. The reading
gentlemen in the easy chairs, most consciously unconscious of us, sent
blue smoke circles above their papers. Kite leaned far over to get his
mustache closer to my ear.

"You ast me about Steve," he whispered.

"Yeah," I agreed, and looked around for Barbara, to tell her here was
her chance to meet the gentleman she had so cleverly deduced. But she
and Worth were already getting through the door, he still clinging to
the suitcase, she trailing along with that expression of defeat. "I'm
sort of looking up Steve. And you don't want to tip him off--see?"

"Couldn't if I wanted to, Jerry," the Kite came down on his heels, but
continued to whisper hoarsely. "Steve's bolted."

"What?"

"Bolted," the Kite repeated. "Hopped the twig. Jumped the town."

"You mean he's not in his room?" I reached for a match in the metal
holder, scratched it, and lit my cigar.

"I mean he's jumped the town," Kite repeated. "You got me nervous asking
for him that way. While you was on the roof, I took a squint around and
found he was gone--with his hand baggage. That means he's gone outa
town."

"Not if the suitcase you squinted for was a brown sole leather--" I was
beginning, but the Kite cut in on me.

"I seen that one you had. That wasn't it. His was a brand new one, black
and shiny."

Suddenly I couldn't taste my cigar at all.

"Know what time to-day he left here?" I asked.

"It wasn't to-day. 'Twas yestiddy. About one o'clock."

As I plunged for the door I was conscious of his hoarse whisper
following me,

"What's Steve done, Jerry? What d'ye want him for?"

I catapulted across the sidewalk and into the machine.

"Get me to my office as fast as you can, Worth," I exclaimed. "Hit Bush
Street--and rush it."

CHAPTER VIII

A TIN-HORN GAMBLER

After we were in the machine, my head was so full of the matter in hand
that Worth had driven some little distance before I realized that the
young people were debating across me as to which place we went first,
Barbara complaining that she was hungry, while Worth ungallantly eager
to give his own affairs immediate attention, argued,

"You said the dining-room out at your diggings would be closed by this
time. Why not let me take you down to the Palace, along with Jerry, have
this suitcase safely locked up, and we can all lunch together and get
ahead with our talk."

"Drive to the office, Worth,"