the
man, were a woman's eyes. He was conscious that never in his life had he
been so intensely interested in a female thing. She had tricked him, she
had deceived and she had robbed him. Yet his dominant feeling was joyous
triumph at having found her when he had thought her lost. He was happy
because she had summoned him, excited because they were going side by
side toward some unknown adventure.

He looked at his watch which had been retrieved from the wall safe, and
said that the time was twelve minutes to eleven. Krantz's Keller was in
Fourteenth Street, and they could reach there at the hour, for already
the cab was moving in the right direction. "Are you in a hurry?" he
asked, "or shall we go a round-about way and talk things over? The
Keller won't be at its best till nearly midnight."

"I've a--sort of appointment at eleven-thirty," Clo said. "But I'd like
to be on the spot before that, for a look round to get my bearings. I
daresay I can tell you the whole story in twelve minutes. I've learned
the lesson to-night that almost anything can happen, and you can live
years in the time that it takes to button a pair of shoes."

"Certainly _you_ can accomplish more in a few brief minutes than any
other person I ever met! My own experience with you proves that!"
O'Reilly laughed. But the girl's face was drawn. He remembered hearing
that she had been dangerously ill. He wished her to realize that he was
ready to give sympathy as well as help. "I don't want to talk of myself,
but of you. Tell me what you care to tell. You may trust me."

"You're sure?" insisted Clo. "I'm putting my life in your hands."

"I've just my word to give," O'Reilly answered. "Look me in the face and
decide if it's worth taking."

Clo looked him in the face, and said, "Yes! I'll tell you everything.
Please don't ask questions, or speak till I finish."

Since the moment when he had been surprised by her voice at the
telephone, and she had claimed his help, O'Reilly had thought of
fantastic things, but they were commonplace compared to the story she
flung at his head. To make him understand, in ten minutes, why she had
to be at Krantz's Keller meant that she must spring all her facts upon
him. Already, without knowing how she had escaped at the Dietz, O'Reilly
had formed the opinion that she was a girl, not in a thousand but in
many thousands. Now, listening in silence, he heard her tell what she
had found, and what she had done, in Peterson's