y to me. "I'm only on your
hands a few minutes; a package left to be called for."

I had watched them coming back to me at our old table, with its
telephone extension, the girl with eyes for no one but Worth, who helped
her out of her wrap now with a preoccupied air and,

"Shed the coat, Bobs," adding as he seated her beside him, "The luck of
luck that I chanced on you here this evening."

That brought the color into her face; the delicate rose shifted under
her translucent skin almost with the effect of light, until that
lustrous midnight beauty of hers was as richly glowing as one of those
marvellous dark opals of the antipodes.

"Yes," she said softly, with a smile that set two dimples deep in the
pink of her cheeks, "wasn't it strange our meeting this way?" Worth
wasn't looking at her. He'd signaled a waiter, ordered a pot of black
coffee, and was watching its approach. "I didn't go down to the wedding,
but Ina herself invited me to come here to-night. I had half a mind not
to; then at the last minute I decided I would--and I met you!"

Worth nodded, sat there humped in a brown study while the waiter poured
our coffee. The minute the man left us alone, he turned to her with,

"I've got a stunt for you."

"A--a stunt?"

The light failed abruptly in her face; her mouth with its soft, firm
molding, its vivid, floral red, like the lips of a child, went down a
bit at the clean-cut corners. A small hand fumbled the trimming of her
blouse; it was almost as if she laid it over a wounded heart.

"Yes," he nodded. "Jerry's got something in his pocket that'll be pie
for you."

She turned to me a look between angry and piteous--the resentment she
would not vent on him.

"Is--is Mr. Boyne interested in stunts--such as I used to do?"

"Sure," Worth agreed. "We both are. We--"

"Oh, that was why you wanted me to come back with you?" She had got hold
of herself now. She was more poised, but still resentful.

"Bobs," he cut straight across her mood to what he wanted, "Jerry Boyne
is going to read you something it took about 'steen blind people to
see--and you'll give us the answer." I didn't share his confidence, but
I rather admired it as he finished, poising the tongs, "One lump, or
two?"

Of course I knew what he meant. My hand was already fumbling in my
pocket for the description of Clayte. The girl looked as though she
wasn't going to answer him; she moved to shove back her chair. Worth's
only recognition of