and sirens, still the shouting.
Would they never move on? She was hungry. She wanted to get back to
the hotel, to learn what had happened to her mother. Militant
suffragettes, indeed! A pack of mad witches, who left their brooms
behind kitchen doors when they ought to be wielding them about dusty
corners. Woman never won anything by using brickbats and torches:
which proved on the face of it that these militants were inefficient,
irresponsible, and unlearned in history. Poor simpletons! Had not
theirs always been the power behind the throne? What more did they
want?

Her cogitations were peculiarly interrupted. The door opened, and a
man plumped down beside her.

"Enid, it looks as if we'd never get out of this hole. Have you got
your collar up?"

Numb and terrified, Kitty felt the man's hands fumbling about her neck.

"Where's your sable stole? You women beat the very devil for
thoughtlessness. A quid to a farthing, you've left it in the box, and
I'll have to go back for it, providing they'll let me in. And it's
midnight, if a minute."

Pressing herself tightly into her corner, Kitty managed to gasp: "My
name is not Enid, sir. You have mistaken your carriage."

"What? Good heavens!" Almost instantly a match sparkled and flared.
His eyes, screened behind his hand, palm outward (a perfectly natural
action, yet nicely calculated), beheld a pretty, charming face, large
Irish blue eyes (a bit startled at this moment), and a head of hair as
shiny-black as polished Chinese blackwood. The match, still burning,
curved like a falling star through the window. "A thousand pardons,
madam! Very stupid of me. Quite evident that I am lost. I beg your
pardon again, and hope I have not annoyed you."

He was gone before she could form any retort. Where had she heard that
voice before? With a little shudder--due to the thought of those cold
strange fingers feeling about her throat--her hands went up. Instantly
she cried aloud in dismay. Her sapphires! They had vanished!

CHAPTER II

Daniel Killigrew, of Killigrew and Company (sugar, coffee and spices),
was in a towering rage; at least, he towered one inch above his normal
height, which was five feet six. Like an animal recently taken in
captivity he trotted back and forth through the corridors, in and out
of the office, to and from the several entrances, blowing the while
like a grampus. All he could get out of these infernally stupid beings