he possibility--but only as a possibility--that
Dykeman would put a man on Worth's coat-tails, since I knew Dykeman and
had been at that bank meeting; yet I had not regarded it as likely
enough to warn Worth; and here was this girl phoning him to look out for
a trailer. Was this some more of her deductive reasoning, or had
Cummings dropped a hint?

She was waiting for us in front of the Haight Street boarding house that
served her for a home, and we tucked her between us on the roadster's
wide seat. At the St. Dunstan we found my man, left there since the hour
of the alarm the day before, and everybody belonging to the management
surly and glum. The clerk handed me Clayte's key across the morning
papers spread out on his desk. Apartment houses dislike notoriety of
this sort, and the St. Dunstan set up to be as rabidly respectable, as
chemically pure as any in the city. Well, no use their blaming me;
Clayte was their misfortune; they couldn't expect me to keep the matter
out of print entirely.

The three of us crowded into the automatic elevator, and I pressed the
seventh floor button. The girl's eyes shone under the wisp of veil
twisted around a knowing little turban. She liked the taste of the
adventure.

"That man came this way--with that suitcase," she breathed, "--maybe set
it down right there when he pressed the button--just as Mr. Boyne did
now!"

It was a fine morning; the shades had been left up, and Clayte's room
when I opened the door was ablaze with sunlight.

"How delightful!" Barbara Wallace stopped on the threshold and looked
about her. I expected the scientific investigating to begin; but no--she
was all taken up with the beauty of sunlight and view.

The seventh was the top floor. The St. Dunstan stood almost at the
summit where Nob Hill slants obliquely to north and east, and Powell
Street dizzies down the steep descent to North Beach and the Bay. The
girl had run to a window, and was looking out toward the marvelous show
of blue-green water and distant Berkeley hills.

"Will you open this window for me, please?" she asked. I stepped to her
side, forestalling Worth who was eyeing the room's interior with
curiosity.

"You'll notice the burglar-proof sash locks," I said as I manipulated
this one. She gave only casual interest, her attention still on the view
beyond. The steel latch, fastened to the upper sash, locked into the
socket on the lower sash by a lever-catch. "See? I must pull out this