sad plight he remained until a door near him opened and a man
in plain clothes came stealthily in. He walked straight to Barnes,
bent down and whispered:

"If you've got a hundred-dollar bill about you drop it onto the floor
and walk out. The lieutenant won't see you."

The individual turned on his heel and went out the way he had come.
He did not shut the door tightly behind him. Barnes felt that an eye
was watching through the slit, so he lost no time in jumping to
his feet, getting his money out of his wallet and dropping two
one-hundred-dollar bills on the floor.

This done, he jammed the wallet back in his pocket, picked up his cane
and gloves and opened the door through which he had entered the room.
He started warily forward with his eyes straight ahead. He could feel
that the lieutenant who sat behind the high-railed-off desk was the
only person in the room and he could hear the scratch of his busy
pen.

Gaining the street entrance, he drew an immense sigh of relief, opened
it eagerly and fairly leaped outside to the steps. As the door shut
behind him he thought he heard a sudden explosive laugh, but it meant
nothing to him as he hurried along blindly, increasing his pace at
every stride.

At the corner of Third avenue he stopped and consulted his watch. It
was midnight!

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AN INSTANCE OF EPIC NERVE.

Travers Gladwin scaled the great staircase three steps at a time.
Stumbling against a divan he threw himself across it and lay for a few
moments stretched on his back with every muscle relaxed. He felt as if
he had been buffeted by mighty tempests and overwhelmed by cataclysms.
His head throbbed with fever and he felt a sickening emptiness
inside.

How was he going to avert the catastrophe of an elopement and at the
same time save himself and that charming young girl from a shrieking
scandal? There didn't seem any coherent solution. If Whitney Barnes
had only remained with him--at least to lend him moral courage!

Where had the confounded ass gone? Why didn't he return? A fine friend
in need was he!

There was no time to unravel his perplexities and lay any definite
plan. He must act, taking his cue as it was presented to him by the
racing events of the moment.

He got up from the divan and rushed downstairs. He cleared the last
landing, with a momentum that slid him across the polished floor of
the hallway after the manner of small boys who slide on ice. He fairly
coasted