f his dinner jacket. Forced to
support his half-fainting guest, he had not put on an outer coat, so the
key was within reach of clever and determined fingers. Clodagh's were
determined, and--she hoped--clever.

With this design burning in her head and tingling in her hands, she
decided to faint again as they started for home, and keep O'Reilly
occupied every inch of the way.

"I'm afraid--I'm not so strong--after all----" she sighed, as the taxi
door shut, and proceeded to "flop" like a large rag doll. Her head fell
on the man's breast, and rolled across to his left arm, her hat askew.

"I'm very ill," she moaned. "Something hurts so! My hat-pin----" And her
voice trailed into silence.

"Poor child!" the man exclaimed, completely taken in at last. The
hat-pin was sticking in very deep! Not that she minded a little pain.
But the great thing was to keep O'Reilly's hands busy.

Clumsily, obstinately, he fumbled among the meshes of ostrich plume
wound around her hat. The head of the pin eluding him there, he tried
beneath the brim, his fingers tangling in thick waves of hair. They were
soft waves, softer and silkier than the ostrich plume. No man with blood
in his veins could have touched them without a thrill. The girl on his
breast, her face on his arm, one hand holding her up, another caught in
her hair, O'Reilly was conscious of electric shocks.

His hands and attention thus engaged, Clo got the chance she'd waited
for. Delicately, stealthily, like the "mouse" she called herself, she
extracted the door key from O'Reilly's pocket. So far, so good. But the
next deed would try her mettle. Lightly as a flitting shadow the small
fingers moved over the man's waistcoat, from the belt line to the
breast. She could feel his heart thump, and almost started, but
controlled herself.

Clo had noticed that men often wore a short chain or ribbon, attached to
a watch, and hanging from the waistcoat pocket with a seal, a society
badge or a lucky souvenir. O'Reilly wore no ornament of that sort; but
there was a watch, a thin watch which she could feel through the cloth,
and some flat object with it. If she could slip a finger into that
pocket without his knowing!

But now they were in Park Avenue, not far from the imposing apartment
house at the corner, where Mr. and Mrs. Sands lived. Clo availed herself
of a slight bump, and showed signs of sliding off the seat. O'Reilly,
who had just extracted the hat-pin and stuck it into his