ng the murmur of voices and tinkle
of glasses across the big room. "Sylvia Fanton--girl from nowhere--!"

Puffy struggled onward under the almost dead weight of his boss. Drake
was trying to hold back.

"You gave me orders to take you home at midnight," Puffy protested,
"and, 'Cinderella' Drake, home you go."

He succeeded in dragging his charge up the three low steps that led
toward the coat room. A silvery crash of music drowned out Puffy's
voice with the suddenness of striking lightning. He dropped his arm
from Drake's waist and pivoted, surprise on his broad face. Something
weird and lovely about the sound turned them both toward the stage.
His chin dropped in delight. This wasn't Lardner's usual nightly
feature.

[Illustration: She went into a weirdly sensuous dance....]

They watched with hypnotized eyes as the girl's slim body twisted and
swayed from between the bright shower of curtains. It wasn't the girl
that caught Puffy's gaze. Cupped in her slim hands was the biggest
diamond he had ever seen. The gem was skillfully cut with the
perfection of a Tiffany. From its multi-faceted sides a million sparks
of rainbow fire quivered and danced through the room. The shadows
seemed to come alive and burn under its presence.

Puffy gasped loudly.

"Shhhhh!"

"It ain't true," Puffy said. "A paste if I ever stole one."

Blake leaned on the low rail that bordered the dining room. His legs
were spread wide, body balanced unsteadily with firm-gripped hands.
George Lardner had picked a winner this time. Clothed in ankle-length
silver cloth, she wafted across the floor lightly as a breeze. Sylvia
Fanton was a light, floating angel of beauty. Her hair was raven-black
drifting to her waist and the eyes, dark as her hair, seemed caught in
worship for the precious stone in her hands. She hardly danced yet the
smooth torso, the swaying hips held her admirers fixed.

A sigh of longing escaped Drake's lips.

"Wunnerful," he breathed.

"Yea!" Puffy was still watching the great gem. "Not real though."

"Perfect as a dream," Jim Drake went on, not hearing.

"Perfect phony," Puffy insisted.

Drake swung around unsteadily.

"Who you calling phony," he lisped angrily. "That's girl's wunnerful."

He staggered and collapsed against Puffy's barrel chest.

"Home for you," Puffy decided.

* * * * *

He retrieved Drake like a sack of spuds and placed him carefully on
his feet.

"We're goi