dancers split and washed past on either
side of the motionless trio, and on every face there was a glittering
curiosity. What would Landis do?

Nothing. He was too stupefied to act. He, Jack Landis, had actually been
tagged while he was dancing with the woman which all The Corner knew to
be his girl! And before his befogged senses cleared the girl was in the
arms of the red-haired man and was lost in the crowd.

What a buzz went around the room! For a moment Landis could no more move
than he could think; then he sent a sullen glance toward the girl and
retreated to their table. A childish sullenness clouded his face while
he sat there; only one decision came clearly to him: he must kill
Donnegan!

In the meantime people noted two things. The first was that Donnegan
danced very well with Nelly Lebrun; and his red hair beside the silken
black of the girl's was a startling contrast. It was not a common red.
It flamed, as though with phosphoric properties of its own. But they
danced well; and the eyes of both of them were gleaming. Another thing:
men did not tag Donnegan any more than they had offered to tag Landis.
One or two slipped out from the outskirts of the floor, but something in
the face of Donnegan discouraged them and made them turn elsewhere as
though they had never started for Nelly Lebrun in the first place.
Indeed, to a two-year-old child it would have been apparent that Nelly
and the red-headed chap were interested in each other.

As a matter of fact they did not speak a single syllable until they had
gone around the floor one complete turn and the dance was coming toward
an end.

It was he who spoke first, gloomily: "I shouldn't have done it; I
shouldn't have tagged him!"

At this she drew back a little so that she could meet his eyes.

"Why not?"

"The whole crew will be on my trail."

"What crew?"

"Beginning with Lord Nick!"

This shook her completely out of the thrall of the dance.

"Lord Nick? What makes you think that?"

"I know he's thick with Landis. It'll mean trouble."

He was so simple about it that she began to laugh. It was not such a
voice as Lou Macon's. It was high and light, and one could suspect that
it might become shrill under a stress.

"And yet it looks as though you've been hunting trouble," she said.

"I couldn't help it," said Donnegan naively.

It was a very subtle flattery, this frankness from a man who had puzzled
all The Corner. Nelly Lebrun felt that she