t's the use of dragging the young lady into this?" demanded Orme.

"None o' your business."

"Can I speak to her a minute, first?"

"No, you can't. There's been too many Chicago hold-up men around here
lately, and I won't take chances with you." The policeman made this
explanation apparently in deference to Orme's appearance, which, in spite
of the evidence of struggle, was that of a gentleman. "Looks don't always
tell," he continued.

That the girl should be taken to the station and held, under such
suspicious circumstances was simply not to be thought of.

Doubtless she could quickly set in motion forces that would liberate her,
but the disgrace of detention was something she must be saved from at any
cost.

She was known in Evanston. Her identity once established, the story of
her arrest would be sure to spread. Her position would then be the more
painful, because the circumstances of the case were such that she was
unwilling to explain them.

Moreover, Orme realized that, if he and Arima were held, the care of the
girl would be his first thought, and the recovery of the papers would be
forced into second place. That would not be according to her wish.
Assuredly, if he was to get the papers, he could do better alone.

She sat in the car, not more than six feet from him, her face the picture
of mingled emotions. Orme saw that he must reassure her as to himself
before he carried out the plan which had suddenly come to his mind.

"You will make a mistake, officer, if you detain me," he said, speaking
distinctly, so that the girl would be sure to hear.

"Cut it out," said the policeman.

"A little telephoning will set me free in an hour," Orme continued,
bending to pick up his hat, which had fallen to the ground at the
beginning of the fight. "You can't do anything except take me to the
station and find out that you have bungled."

"That's my affair," said the policeman. "But here, we've done enough
talkin'." He waved his revolver in a gesture which indicated that they
were to enter the car.

Now, Orme knew that the girl had not seen him throw the papers to the
road. Neither had she seen Arima pick them up. Whatever guess she had
made as to his disposal of them, there was no reason for her to doubt
that he had again got them into his possession, during some stage of the
struggle.

He looked at her earnestly and significantly, then smiled slightly, in
the thought of reassuring her.

When he was certain