from Baldwin's home.

"He hasn't come out yet," Jack reported, stepping into the light as the
taxi slowed down and crept along near the gutter.

"Jump in," said Edwards. "Run over across the street, and step in the
shadow there," he ordered the chauffeur.

"There he comes now, out the gate. Follow him."

Five minutes later McCarthy stepped into the trap laid by the gambler
and, ten minutes after he lurched out of the machine, he was carried
half unconscious, into the basement door of the police station and
deposited roughly upon the bench in the "cozy corner."

CHAPTER XXV

_McCarthy Disappears_

Silent Swanson was jabbing billiard balls around the table as if
venting his irritability upon the innocent spheres of ivory.

"Why so cruel to the relics of departed generations of ball players?"
inquired Kennedy, who was cuddled up in cushioned settee watching.

"Waiting for Kohinoor."

"Where has he gone?" inquired Kennedy carelessly.

"Skirting again," explained Swanson. "He ought to be back before
long," added Swanson, jabbing the balls harder and stopping to look at
his watch. "It's five past ten now, and he said he'd cut the call
short."

"Think any sane guy would quit a pretty girl to spend an evening with
you?" inquired Kennedy insultingly, having decided to wile away the
time by ragging his big teammate.

"I've a hunch something is wrong with Kohinoor," said Swanson. "He
told me he'd break away early and shoot me some billiards before train
time. He didn't say just when, but I expected him back by ten."

"Why don't you sue him for divorce if he neglects you?" suggested
Kennedy, again seeking to start an argument.

Swanson consulted his watch with gloomy foreboding and declined to
engage in repartee.

"Better come drag along down to the train," suggested Kennedy. "I'll
buy the gas wagon to haul us. Your little playmate is safe enough."

"I'll hang around here," replied Swanson without spirit.

"All right," Kennedy remarked, rising and stretching himself. "I'm
going to dig along and get into the hay before that old rattler starts.
I want some sleep. Most of the fellows already have gone."

Swanson resumed his gloomy pastime of making fancy shots on the
billiard table. When he looked at his watch again it marked ten-thirty.

He strolled upstairs to the lobby, scanned the writing room and smoking
rooms for a sign of McCarthy and then, with a sudden anxiety, he
hurried to the telep