e telephone, it seemed, at Krantz's. Then the
line was busy. He was obliged to wait.

Meanwhile a tall girl, in a bright pink cloak over a pink dress, hurried
through the gloomy restaurant. She paused only to glance at a clock on
the wall, and then ran downstairs to the "Keller."

XXVI

THE GIRL IN PINK

Clo sat watching the crowd. She had removed her veil, and the long,
brown cloak lent by Beverley. The latter she had folded, and was sitting
upon it.

It was then, when most of the tables were taken, and when a young tenor
with a good voice had replaced the Italian peasants, that the girl in
pink walked in. Clo sat with her face to the entrance, and happened to
be looking that way. At sight of the girl, who came in alone, it was all
she could do to sit still. She felt the blood stream to her face, and
taking up the empty coffee cup, pretended to drink.

"Gracious, why did I never think of her!" she wondered. For this was the
girl who had got out of the elevator at the Westmorland, and had been
stared at by the men, when Clo and Beverley descended the stairs from
Peterson's room. Would there have been time after they had turned their
backs for Kit to get out of the brown trunk (if she'd been in it!),
fasten the lid, and descend to the lift while the two women went down
the six flights of stairs?

Yes, there would have been time. Clo was thankful that she had disposed
of her veil, and was sitting on the cloak. Here at Krantz's she was only
a girl in a white dress, with a brown toque which at the Westmorland had
been hidden with a veil.

There were two or three tables still disengaged, but the one with the
best view of the stage was the one nearest Clo. The girl in pink tripped
to it, without hesitation, stood for a minute staring at the singer, and
sat down. Clo watched her. She could not be certain, but she thought the
girl had caught the eye of the singer and had made him a sign.

Not only had he a good voice, but he was good to look at, dark and
rather "dashing," "almost like a second-hand gentleman," as Clo said to
herself. His song pleased the audience, who clapped violently, demanding
another. But the young man smiled, threw out his hands, shrugged,
touched his throat, and bowed himself off the stage. By this time the
girl in pink had ordered a bottle of wine which, to judge by the loving
care of the waiter, must have been rare and expensive.

The singer sat down with his back to Clo, his compani