the party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak louder--listen, there
is the bell now! Get it connected here at once!"

The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might miss
some good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity against his
professional prejudices. He bawled down the hall.

"Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk." He caught up the instrument, as
Shirley dropped to his knees beside him, to swing the horn into place.

"What's that?" he shouted over the wire. "Yes, shure it is--What's that
you say?--I don't get you, cull--You want to speak to the girl?--What
girl?--Talk louder. Hire a hall!--Say, I ain't no mind reader! Speak
up."

Over the instrument came the phrase once more: "Can you hear me now?"

It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant.

"Yes, I hear you. What do you want?"

"I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I want--"

An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of the
receiver. The connection was stopped, and the superintendent turned upon
him angrily.

"You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who her
brother was--say, who are you, anyway?"

"There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't you see?
That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, who will tell you
I am all right."

The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious altercation could
arise. He greeted Shirley warmly and introduced him to Pat Cleary. The
man was mollified.

"Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this guy
is the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of me. But,
if you want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His work was a little
speedy on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your eyes on this machine, for
we may get another call on this floor--This way gentlemen. Watch your
step, for the hallway's dark."

The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. As the
door opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in the finery of
the Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the center of the dingy room,
sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her features wan
and distorted from her paroxysms of fear and grief. Like a frightened
animal, she sprang to her feet as they entered the room, retreating
to the wall, her trembling hands spread as though to brace her from
falling.

"I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't know what
was