" she said curtly.

"I'm not going on to guess about what you all are. All I know is what
I'm here trying to do. I'm not working for myself. I'm working for a
partner."

She started. "That's the second man, the one who stopped her on the
street today?"

"You're pretty well posted," replied Ronicky. "Yes, that's the one. He
started after Caroline Smith, not even knowing her name--with just
a picture of her. We found out that she lived in sight of the East
River, and pretty soon we located her here."

"And what are you hoping to do?"

"To find her and talk to her straight from the shoulder and tell her
what a pile Bill has done to get to her--and a lot of other things."

"Can't he find her and tell her those things for himself?"

"He can't talk," said Ronicky. "Not that I'm a pile better, but I
could talk better for a friend than he could talk for himself, I
figure. If things don't go right then I'll know that the trouble is
with the gent with the smile."

"And then?" asked the girl, very excited and grave.

"I'll find him," said Ronicky Doone.

"And--"

"Lady," he replied obliquely, "because I couldn't use a gun on a girl
ain't no sign that I can't use it on a gent!"

"I've one thing to tell you," she said, breaking in swiftly on him.
"Do what you want--take all the chances you care to--but, if you value
your life and the life of your friend, keep away from the man who
smiles."

"I'll have a fighting chance, I guess," said Ronicky quietly."

"You'll have no chance at all. The moment he knows your hand is
against him, I don't care how brave or how clever you are, you're
doomed!"

She spoke with such a passion of conviction that she flushed, and a
moment later she was shivering. It might have been the draft from the
window which made her gather the hazy-green mantle closer about her
and glance over her shoulder; but a grim feeling came to Ronicky Doone
that the reason why the girl trembled and her eyes grew wide, was that
the mention of "the man who smiles" had brought the thought of him
into the room like a breath of cold wind.

"Don't you see," she went on gently, "that I like you? It's the first
and the last time that I'm going to see you, so I can talk. I know
you're honest, and I know you're brave. Why, I can see your whole
character in the way you've stayed by your friend; and, if there's a
possible way of helping you, I'll do it. But you must promise me first
that you'll never cross the man wit