remarked, flicking the
ash from her cigarette. "They will cheat and lie for halfpennies, but
they are bad gamblers when life or death--the big things are in the
balance. Bah!" she went on. "Father, I want Jerry Gardner to come and
see me."

"If you can't make him come, my dear," the professor said, "I am sure it
will be of no use my trying."

"He has had my letter," she continued, half to herself; "he has had my
letter and he does not come."

"There is nothing to be done but wait," her father decided.

"And meanwhile," she went on, "supposing he were to discover Beatrice,
supposing they two were to come together; supposing he were to tell her
what he knows and she were to tell him what she guessed!"

The professor buried his face in his hands. Elizabeth threw her
cigarette away with an impatient gesture.

"What an idiot I am!" she declared. "What is the use of wasting time
like this?"

There was a knock at the door. A trim-looking French maid presented
herself. She addressed her mistress in voluble French. A coiffeur and a
manicurist were waiting in the next apartment; it was time that Madame
habited herself. The professor listened to these announcements with an
air of half-admiring wonder.

"I suppose I must be going," he said, rising to his feet. "There is just
one thing I should like to ask you, Elizabeth, if I may, before I go."

"Well?"

"Who was the young man whom I met here just now?"

"Why do you ask that?" she demanded.

"I really do not know," her father replied, thoughtfully, "except that
his appearance seemed a little singular. In some respects he appeared so
commonplace. His clothes and bearing, in fact, were so ordinary that
I was surprised to find him here with you. And, on the other hand, his
face--you must remember, my dear, that this is entirely a professional
instinct; I am still interested in faces--"

"Quite so," she admitted. "Go on. The young man rather puzzles me
myself. I should like to hear what you make of him. What did you think
of his face?"

"There was something powerful about it," he declared, "something dogged,
splendid, narrow, impossible,--the sort of face which belongs to a man
who achieves great things because he is too stupid to recognize failure,
even when it has him in its arms and its fingers are upon his throat.
That young man has qualities, my dear, I am sure. Mind you, at present
they are dormant, but he has qualities."

She led him to the door.

"My dear