s glance clearer.

When he found himself able to think, he determined that his first move
must be to find Carlin, and that very night. It had been some weeks
since he had visited the ship-chandler. He had tried the latch several
times, and would have repeated his visits had not a bystander told
him that Carlin was in the country fitting out a yacht for one of his
customers and would not be back for a month. The time was now up.

And yet, when he thought it all over, could he, in view of this
new phase of the case, seek Carlin's help and advice? What might be
better--and his heart gave a bound--would be to see Father Cruse. The
woman whom Kitty had picked up might be one of his waifs, who, overcome
by fatigue or illness after leaving the church, had fallen on the
door-step where the policeman had found her.

At six o'clock he left the shop with a formal good night to Kling, a
hasty, almost abrupt good-by to Masie, and, without a word of any kind
to Kitty, whose quiet scrutiny he dreaded, bent his steps to a small
eating-room in the basement of one of the old-time private houses in
Lexington Avenue, where he sometimes took his meals. At seven o'clock he
was threading his way through the crowds in Third Avenue, searching the
face of every one he met. At eight o'clock, his impatience growing, he
turned into 28th Street and mounted the short flight of steps in front
of St. Barnabas's. The tones of the organ, as well as the illumined
stained-glass windows and the groups of people around the swinging doors
of the vestibule, showed that a service was being held. These, however,
were the only evidences that a body of people had met to pray inside,
both pavements outside being filled with hurrying throngs, as were the
barrooms opposite, crowded with loud-talking men lining the bars, with
here and there a woman at a table.

Passing through the vestibule doors, he entered the church and found
a seat near the entrance. Father Cruse, in full vestments, was
officiating. He was before the altar at the moment, his back to the
congregation. Most of them were working people who had only their
evenings free, and for whom these services were held: girls from the
department stores, servants with an evening out, trainmen from the
Elevated, off duty for an hour or two, small storekeepers whose places
closed early, with their wives and children beside them, all under the
spell of the hushed interior. Some prayed without moving, their heads