eft him unconscious, while the other
two threw up their hands and yelled for mercy. McAdams wiped his
streaming face, and looked around.

It was a shambles, the floor spotted with blood, the table overturned and
broken, a blanket over one of the windows torn down, a smashed chair in
one corner. The detective who had been shot was still lying in front of
the door, "Red" lay motionless, a ghastly cut over his eye, and Hobart,
his arm dangling, sat propped up against the wall, cursing, malevolent,
but helpless. On the other side stood Sennett and "Dago Dave," their
hands high above their heads; each looking into the levelled barrel of a
gun. The woman had got to her knees, still dazed from the blow which had
felled her. The ex-service man smiled grimly, well satisfied.

"Some surprise party, eh, Jim?" he asked pleasantly. "This rather puts a
crimp in your little game, I would savy, old boy. Going to cop the whole
boodle tomorrow, was you?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Well, if I answer your questions, perhaps you will answer mine. I am
McAdams of the City Hall Station, Chicago, and I know exactly what I am
here after. So the best thing you guys can do, is cough up. Who's that
girl who has been working with you?"

Hobart glared sullenly, but made no response.

"You'll not answer?"

"Oh, go to hell!"

"All right, old top. She is in this house somewhere, and can't get out.
Somers, look around a bit; try behind those curtains over there."

The officer stepped forward, but at the same instant the draperies
parted, and two girls stood beside each other in the opening, framed
against the brighter glare of light beyond--two girls, looking so alike,
except for dress and the arrangement of their hair, as to be almost
indistinguishable--Natalie white faced, frightened, gazing with wide-open
eyes on the strange scene before her; the other smiling, and audacious,
her glance full of defiance. It was the voice of the latter which broke
the silence.

"Am I the one you want, Mr. Bob McAdams?" she asked clearly. "Very well,
I am here."

McAdams stared at them both, gulping in startled surprise at the vision
confronting him, unable to find words. Then his eyes fixed themselves on
the face of the speaker.

"What!" he burst forth. "You, Del? Great Scott! your name was Hobart,
wasn't it? Why I never once connected you two together. Is--is this guy
your father?"

"I don't know about that," she returned indifferently. "It is a matt