traightening up from the last piece of
luggage. "You were telephoning when I came in?"

"Yes--to Mr. Staff, to explain why I failed to bring him the bandbox."

"_Hmmm._" He pondered this, chin in hand. "He'll be fretting. Does he
know where you are?"

"No--I forgot to tell him."

"That's good. Still, you'd better call him up again and put his mind at
rest. It may gain us a few hours."

"What am I to say?"

She lifted her hand to the receiver.

"Tell him you were cut off and had trouble getting his number again. Say
your motor broke down in Central Park and you lost your way trying to
walk home. Say you're tired and don't want to be disturbed till noon;
that you have the necklace safe and will give it to him if he will call
tomorrow."

Eleanor took a deep breath, gave the number to the switchboard operator
and before she had time to give another instant's consideration to what
she was doing, found herself in conversation with Staff, reciting the
communication outlined by her evil genius in response to his eager
questioning.

The man was at her elbow all the while she talked--so close that he
could easily overhear the other end of the dialogue. This was with a
purpose made manifest when Staff asked Eleanor where she was stopping,
when instantly the little man clapped his palm over the transmitter.

"Tell him the St. Regis," he said in a sharp whisper.

Her eyes demanded the reason why.

"Don't stop to argue--do as I say: it'll give us more time. The St.
Regis!"

He removed his hand. Blindly she obeyed, reiterating the name to Staff
and presently saying good-bye.

"And now--not a second to spare--hurry!"

In the hallway, while they waited for the elevator, he had further
instructions for her.

"Go to the desk and ask for your bill," he said, handing her the key to
her room. "You've money, of course?... Say that you're called
unexpectedly away and will send a written order for your trunks early in
the morning. If the clerk wants an address, tell him the Auditorium,
Chicago. Now ..."

They stepped from the dimly lighted hall into the brilliant cage of the
elevator. It dropped, silently, swiftly, to the ground floor, somehow
suggesting to the girl the workings of her implacable, irresistible
destiny. So precisely, she felt, she was being whirled on to her fate,
like a dry leaf in a gale, with no more volition, as impotent to direct
her course....

Still under the obsession of this idea, she went to th