he
was whistling softly to himself. It might not prove to be the gambler,
but she must accept the chance, for flesh and blood could stand the
strain of waiting no longer. Yet she was not conscious of fear, only
of exultation, as she stepped forth into the open, her blood again
circulating freely in her veins. At the slight creak of the door the man
saw her, his whistle ceasing, his hat lifted. Instantly she recognized
him as Hawley, her heart leaping with the excitement of encounter.

"Why, hullo, Christie," he said familiarly, "I thought I was early, and
expected a ten minutes' wait. I came out as soon as you left the stage."

"Oh, I can dress in a jiffy when there is any cause for hurry," Hope
responded, permitting herself to drift under his guidance. "Are you
disappointed? Would you prefer to commune with nature?"

"Well, I should say not," drawing her hand through his arm, and then
patting it with his own. "I have seen about all I care to of nature, but
not of Christie Maclaire."

"You may learn to feel the same regarding her," Hope answered, afraid
to encourage the man, yet eagerly fearful lest she fail to play her part
aright.

"Not the slightest danger," laughing lightly, and pressing her arm more
closely against his body. "Although I must confess you exhibited some
temper when I was late to-night."

"Did I not have occasion to? A woman should never be kept waiting,
especially if her engagement be imperative."

"Oh, I am not finding any fault, you little spitfire. I like you all
the better because you fight. But the trouble was, Christie, you simply
jumped on me without even asking how it occurred. You took it for
granted I was late on purpose to spite you."

"Well, weren't you?" and the girl glanced inquiringly up into his
face, as they passed out of the alley into the light of the Trocadero's
windows. "You certainly acted that way."

"No, I did not; but you wouldn't listen, and besides I had no time then
to explain. There's a lot happened this afternoon I want to tell you
about. Will you give me time to talk with you?"

"Why, of course," surprised at the question, yet full of eagerness. "Why
should you ask that?"

"Because I want you alone where no one can overhear a syllable. I'm
afraid of that damned hotel. You never know who is in the next room, and
the slightest whisper travels from one end to the other. That is one way
in which Keith got onto our deal--he had a room next to Willoughby
and Sco