you and best for him if you keep
your mouth shut." He looked around them cautiously. "I know what I'm
talking about. Take my tip and watch your step."

"What do you mean?"

"Varr's sending to New York for a detective."

"A detective!" Miss Jones was startled, and made no effort to conceal
the fact. "How do you know?"

"Mr. Bolt was here this morning with a friend of his from New York, and
I heard them speakin' about it as they went out. So you tell Charlie
Maxon to be a good little boy and put away his box of matches."

"He had nothing to do with those fires," reiterated Drusilla
mechanically, her thoughts elsewhere. She had met country detectives
and done business with them on terms satisfactory to both sides, and
she held them consequently in contempt, but a detective from New York
was an unknown and possibly ominous quantity. "When's he comin'?"

"Dunno. To-morrow, I'd say likely."

"Well, to-morrow's another day," remarked Drusilla easily, recovering
something of her poise. "I guess he won't amount to so much! I'm
obliged to you just the same for tipping me off. Drop in at Martin's
one of these evenings and have one on me--he's serving a pretty good
brand just now."

"Don't you try to vamp me, Drusilla," grinned Nelson. "I'm a decent
married man."

Miss Jones tossed her head and strolled away.

She quickened her step presently as she decided on a course of action
that appealed to her restless, rather adventurous nature. She had
played with this same idea previously, but had lacked the animus to put
it through. Nelson, with his good-natured hint about a detective from
the city, had supplied that.

She went straight to the dance hall, closed at this hour to its
nocturnal patrons, where she knew she would find Tom Martin in the
office back of the main room. He was there as she expected--a
keen-eyed, sharp-featured little cockney whose history from the time he
disappeared from London in a fog to the day when he emerged in this
unlikely corner of the great United States would have made a thrilling
story--particularly to the English police! Through the open door of
his office he was keeping an eye on the activities of several waiters
who were cleaning up the dance hall and straightening the small round
tables where "only soft drinks" were served, and he looked up to
welcome his visitor with a nod of surprised recognition.

"'Ello, Drusilla. Wotcher doin' 'ere at this time o' dye?"

Miss