he could go. She wouldn't have taken a cab, for
fear of being traced," Clo finished her reflections. She stared at the
pearl in her hand.

"Awkward for me if Kit gets to the man at the other end while her double
chats to him at the Westmorland!" the girl thought, and flew back to the
telephone. "Are you there?" she called.

"You bet your sweet life I'm here. Did you find the beans?"

"I've found something I must bring to you. Where's the safest place?"

"What's the matter with here?"

"It won't do," she answered. "It's on account of Pete!"

"Well, then, come to Churn's. When'll you be there?"

This was a blow. Clo was angling for an address, with street and number.
But she would not be downed by one disappointment. "Same reason holds
good for Churn's," she said. "Can't you think of some place Pete doesn't
know? And think quick, or he'll be back."

"Think quick yourself! We'll go round to your own house, you dub! Pete
ain't sure where your real pitch is--unless you've blabbed."

"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persisted
in desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when I
ask for a new place."

"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty."

"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'll
have to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can
'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?"

"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the book
there?"

"No. Somebody must have nicked it."

"Ain't there one in your own room next door?"

"Yes. But say--a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came in
to Pete's, and I've dropped my key."

"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up in
your room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?"

"Yes. But----Have you gone?"

There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, and
begin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, might
be in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more,
however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in the
deep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the time
in her search, had she not stepped on it.

"I'll make the best of a bad bargain," she promised herself. "If I must
go to Kit's room, I won't throw away a single second."

She fastened Peterson's door on the outside, and fitted the key she had
found,