of
the scarlet lips, as she smiled so winsomely.

All his apprehensions were verified by her utterance. It came in a most
casual voice, despite the dancing delight in her face. The tones were
drawled in the matter-of-fact fashion of statement that leads a listener
to answer without heed to the exact import of the question, unless very
alert, indeed.... This is what she said in that so-casual voice:

"I'm not speaking loud enough, am I, stenographer?"

And that industrious writer of shorthand notes, absorbed in his task,
answered instantly from his hidden place in the corridor.

"No, ma'am, not quite."

Mary laughed aloud, while Burke sat dumfounded. She rose swiftly, and
went to the nearest window, and with a pull at the cord sent the shade
flying upward. For seconds, there was revealed the busy stenographer,
bent over his pad. Then, the noise of the ascending shade, which had
been hammering on his consciousness, penetrated, and he looked up.
Realization came, as he beheld the woman laughing at him through the
window. Consternation beset him. He knew that, somehow, he had bungled
fatally. A groan of distress burst from him, and he fled the place in
ignominious rout.

There was another whose spirit was equally desirous of flight--Burke!
Yet once again, he was beaten at his own game, his cunning made of no
avail against the clever interpretation of this woman whom he assailed.
He had no defense to offer. He did not care to meet her gaze just
then, since he was learning to respect her as one wronged, where he
had regarded her hitherto merely as of the flotsam and jetsam of the
criminal class. So, he avoided her eyes as she stood by the window
regarding him quizzically. In a panic of confusion quite new to him in
his years of experience, he pressed the button on his desk.

The doorman appeared with that automatic precision which made him
valuable in his position, and the Inspector hailed the ready presence
with a feeling of profound relief.

"Dan, take her back!" he said, feebly.

Mary was smiling still as she went to the door. But she could not resist
the impulse toward retort.

"Oh, yes," she said, suavely; "you were right on the level with me,
weren't you, Burke? Nobody here but you and me!" The words came in a
sing-song of mockery.

The Inspector had nothing in the way of answer--only, sat motionless
until the door closed after her. Then, left alone, his sole audible
comment was a single word--one he had