n the Silver
Sphinx, she could risk it equally in an elevated train!

But, in spite of the elevated, it was, she knew, well on towards half
past eleven when she finally came down the street in front of the Silver
Sphinx. From under her veil, she glanced, half curiously, half in a
sort of grim irony, at the taxis lined up before the dancehall. The two
leading cars were not taxis at all, though they bore the ear-marks, with
their registers, of being public vehicles for hire; they were large,
roomy, powerful, and looked, with their hoods up, like privately owned
motors. Well, it was of little account! She shrugged her shoulders,
as--she mounted the steps of the dance-hall. Neither "Bertha" nor Cloran
would use those cars to-night!

XVII. THE SILVER SPHINX

A Bedlam of noise smote Rhoda Gray's ears as she entered the Silver
Sphinx. A jazz band was in full swing; on the polished section of the
floor in the center, a packed mass of humanity swirled and gyrated
and wriggled in the contortions of the "latest" dance, and laughed
and howled immoderately; and around the sides of the room, the waiters
rushed this way and that amongst the crowded tables, mopping at their
faces with their aprons. It seemed as though confusion itself held sway!

Rhoda Gray scanned the occupants of the tables. The Silver Sphinx was
particularly riotous to-night, wasn't it? Yes, she understood! A great
many of the men were wearing little badges. Some society or other was
celebrating--and was doing it with abandon. Most of the men were half
drunk. It was certainly a free-and-easy night! Everything went!

Danglar! Yes, 'there he was--quite close to her, only a few tables
away--and beside him sat a heavy built, clean-shaven man of middle age.
That would be Cloran, of course--the man who was to have been lured
to his death. And Danglar was nervous and uneasy, she could see. His
fingers were drumming a tattoo on the table; his eyes were roving
furtively about the room; and he did not seem to be paying any but the
most distrait attention to his companion, who was talking to him.

Rhoda Gray sank quickly into a vacant chair. Three men, linked arm in
arm, and decidedly more than a little drunk, were approaching her. She
turned her head away to avoid attracting their attention. It was too
free and easy here to-night, and she began to regret her temerity at
having ventured inside; she would better, perhaps, have waited until
Danglar came out--only the