s leading from the sixth story to the
ground floor, she met two or three men, but they had the air of tired
commercial travellers going up to bed. Apparently the veiled girl in
brown had no special interest for them. Next came the ordeal of the
entrance hall, and passing the desk; but there a new group of men had
collected. Clo peered through her brown veil, but encountered no curious
glances. Yet the worst was to come. The eight minutes could hardly have
run out; besides, O'Reilly might be late. If "Kit" were true to her
pals, and if she had seen from her hiding place in the trunk, who went
into Peterson's room, the coming moment might hold the greatest peril of
all. The girl hesitated at the door, then sprang into the street as she
might have sprung into a wave.

Plenty of people were passing as she walked slowly away. She had not
taken many steps, however, when a taxi separated itself from others in
the double line of moving vehicles, and slackened speed near the curb.
The window was open, and Justin O'Reilly was looking out. Clo gave a
welcoming cry, and waved Kit's bead bag. He caught her eye, spoke to the
chauffeur, and the taxi slowed down, short of the hotel entrance. The
girl ran back. O'Reilly held the door ajar, and, putting out his hand,
pulled her in while the car was in motion. He had not forgotten her
orders, and had instructed the driver. On bounded the taxi, as the door
slammed shut, and the sudden jerk, before Clo was seated, flung her into
O'Reilly's arms. He held her for a second or two, and then carefully set
her by his side.

"By Jove, I'm glad to have you safe!" he said in a warm, kind voice,
which for some reason made Clo want to cry. "I've a hundred things to
say and ask, you child or imp, but first of all, where do you want to
go? Home, or----"

"To Krantz's Keller," Clo finished the sentence. "Do you know where it
is?"

"Yes," said O'Reilly. "I know, though I've never been. But----"

"I've got to go there," said Clo. "If you don't like, you needn't."

"I do like!" he laughed. "What do you know about Krantz's Keller?"

"I'll tell you that, and other things, when we arrive," said Clo.
"Please, what time is it?"

"No thanks to you that I have a watch, and can answer that question," he
thrust at her slyly. The street lights turned to ivory the small face
from which Clo had pushed back the veil. It was a child's face, though
not impish or defiant now; but the great dark eyes, it seemed to