s, and then a few straggling words filtered over the
partition.

"Isn't that the best way?" Celeste La Rue's voice was easily
recognisable. "Of course it will be a--well, a mere accident, and no
questions asked."

"But if the man should talk!"

"Forget it! Ned Beaton is an oyster. Besides, I've got the screws on
him. Come on, Johnnie boy, don't be a fool. We are in this game and
must play it out. It has been safe enough so far, and I know what I am
doing now. You've got too much at stake to haggle over a few thousand,
when the money has come to you as easily as this has. Why, if I'd
breathe a word of what I know in this town----"

"For God's sake, not so loud!"

"Bah! No one here is paying any attention to us. Enright is the only
one who even suspicions, and his mouth is shut. It makes me laugh to
think how easily the fools were gulled. We've got a clear field if you
will only let me play the game out in my own way. Do I get the money?"

He must have acceded, for his voice no longer rose to a high pitch.
Presently, when the orchestra began playing again. Miss Donovan and
Willis judged the pair were giving their attention to the dinner.
Finally, after an hour had passed, Cavendish emerged from the booth,
went to the check-room, and hurriedly left the cafe. Waiting only long
enough to satisfy herself that Cavendish was gone, Celeste La Rue
herself emerged from the booth and paused for a moment beside its
bamboo curtains. Then turning suddenly, she made her way, not toward
the exit of the cafe, but to another small booth near the check-room,
and into this she disappeared.

But before she had started this short journey, a yellow piece of paper,
closely folded, slipped from her belt where it had been tucked.

"It's the telegram! The one of which they were speaking." Miss
Donovan's voice whispered dramatically as her eyes swept the tiny clue
within their ambit.

Willis started. He almost sprung from the booth to pick it up, but the
girl withheld him with a pressure of the hand.

"Not yet," she begged. "Wait until we see who leaves the other booth
into which La Rue just went."

And Willis fell back into the seat, his pulse pounding. Presently,
with startled eyes, they beheld Celeste la Rue leave the booth, and
then five minutes later a well-dressed man, a suave, youthful man with
a head inclined toward baldness.

"Enright!" muttered Willis.

"Enright," echoed Miss Donovan, "and, Jerry, ou