uge.

"All right then, show him to me, that's all," the officer was saying
impatiently.

The chauffeur twisted about in his place, following the spectacle with
his eyes. But Trencher had quit looking that way and was looking another
way. The centre of excitement had been moved again--instead of being
north of him it was now approximately ninety feet south, and he, thanks
to the shift, was once more behind it. Peering through the glass he
watched the entrance to the Clarenden.

There he saw what he wanted to see--a tall man in a wide-brimmed soft
dark hat and a long dark topcoat going up the short flight of steps that
led from the pavement into the building. Trencher wadded the spats
together and rammed them down out of sight between the back cushion and
the under cushion of the car seat, and with his overcoat inside out on
his left arm he opened the door and stepped out of the car. This retreat
had served his purpose admirably; it was time to abandon it.

"Changed my mind," he said, in explanation. "If O'Gavin doesn't hurry up
we'll be late for an engagement we've got uptown. I'm going in after
him."

"Yes; all right, sir," assented the chauffeur with his attention very
much elsewhere.

In long steps Trencher crossed the sidewalk and ran up the steps so
briskly that he passed through the door at the top of the short flight
directly behind and almost touching the tall man in the dark hat and
black coat. His heart beat fast; he was risking everything practically
on the possibilities of what this other man meant to do.

The other man did exactly what Trencher was hoping he would do. He
turned left and made for the Clarenden's famous Chinese lounging room,
which in turn opened into the main restaurant. Trencher slipped nimbly
by his quarry and so beat him to where two young women in glorified
uniforms of serving maids were stationed to receive wraps outside the
checking booth; a third girl was inside the booth, her job being to take
over checked articles from her sister helpers.

It befell therefore that Trencher surrendered his brown derby and his
short tan coat, received a pasteboard check in exchange for them and saw
them passed in over a flat shelf to be put on a hook, before the other
man had been similarly served. When the other, now revealed as wearing a
dinner jacket, came through the Orientalised passageway into the lounge,
Trencher was quite ready for him. In his life Trencher had never picked
a pocket,