future
reference, and went on with her task.

The sealed envelope she sought was too large not to protrude over the
top of any pocket of a man's indoor coat; but Clo reflected that the
envelope might have been destroyed, and the contents distributed, or
folded into smaller compass. With this idea she spared herself nothing
in her quest; but the sole reward she had (save for the cigarette case)
was the finding of a paragraph cut from a newspaper, a roll of
blood-stained greenbacks, which she hastily replaced, and a torn silk
handkerchief. The newspaper cutting told of Roger Sands' magnificent
house in Newport, whither he and his "beautiful young bride" would
shortly move. This also Clo annexed, in order that no connection should
seem to exist between Beverley Sands and the man Peterson when the
police got to work. The handkerchief she took from the coat pocket into
which it had been untidily stuffed, in order to search underneath. But
the nervous jerk she gave pulled out something else also--something
small, which fell to the floor with a tinkle as of a tiny stone striking
wood, when it touched a chair leg, and rolled under the chest of
drawers. Clo had not time to see what the thing was. There was only a
flashing glimpse of a pebble-like object as it disappeared. But her
heart leaped at the thought of what it might be. Thrusting the ragged
handkerchief into a pocket already examined, she had just stooped to
peer under the clumsy piece of furniture when a telephone bell began to
ring.

The girl sprang to her feet, quivering and alert. It seemed that the
bell had rung almost in her ear. Someone was calling for Peterson!

XXI

"KIT!"

Somehow Clo got to the telephone, which was placed on the wall by the
door, and her hand trembled on the receiver before she realized that the
bell which rang was in the adjoining room. There was no communicating
door between, but the wall must be almost as thin as cardboard, for the
noise seemed to smite her ear-drum. For an instant Clo's relief was
overwhelming; but as the shrill noise struck her nerves blow after blow,
they rebelled. Her brain refused to work until, suddenly, blessed
silence fell.

Once more she had a sense of being saved. The power of recollection came
back. She knew that she had been going to look for the thing which had
dropped out of Peterson's handkerchief, and rolled out of sight. She
went down on her knees for the second time, but only to spring up,