all Street lay; but
she knew a policeman when she saw one, and believed those minions of the
law to be fountains of information.

She told the officer exactly what she wanted to do--to go to the
lawyer's office and return to the station in time for the afternoon
train to Clintondale.

"It's quite a little walk, Miss, and you might get turned around.
Suppose I put you into a taxi and take the man's number, and he can
bring you back, if you like?"

Nancy had some few dollars in her pocketbook; but she was careful to
have the policeman estimate the cost of her cab-ride, which he kindly
did. She would have sufficient to pay for this, and a luncheon, as well,
if she got back in season. So the girl bravely entered the taxi-cab and
was whirled through the unfamiliar streets to the lawyer's office.

Then she began to quake. She was to beard a lion in his den--and she
knew very little about lions!

Number 714 South Wall Street was a big office building; there were, too,
taxis passing all the time; so Nancy paid off her chauffeur and entered
the building with more boldness in her carriage than she really felt in
her heart.

She was studying the building directory when the hall-man came to her
assistance.

"Who are you looking for, Miss?" he asked.

"Mr. Henry Gordon."

"Gordon? Is that Gordon & Craig, architects?"

"Mr. Gordon is a lawyer."

"Oh! That's Mr. Gordon, of Ambrose, Necker & Boles. Twelve-forty-four.
This way, Miss. Number 6--going up!"

She was hustled into the elevator with a crowd of other people and the
car almost immediately began to ascend.

"Floor! Floor!" the boy who manipulated the lever kept calling, and the
passengers began to thin out rapidly after the fourth floor was passed.

"What floor, Miss?" he snapped at her.

"Mr. Gordon," stammered Nancy, more than a little confused by the rush
of it all. "Twelve-forty-four, the--the gentleman said."

"Twelfth! Here you are!" and the car stopped with a jerk while the boy
opened the sliding door with a flourish.

"Forty-four, to the right!" advised the youth, and immediately the car
shot up the well out of sight.

The clang of the cage-door echoed through the empty corridor. There were
rows of doors, with ground-glass panes, all painted in black or gold
with the name of firms, or with the single word, "_Private._"

For a minute Nancy hesitated. Somehow, her ears rang and she had to
wink fast to keep back the tears. Yet it was merely nervousn