on at his side.
Thus they were able to draw close, and talk without much fear of being
overheard.

"Good Lord, Churn, I thought I'd missed you," were the first words Clo
caught. As the girl spoke she flung a quick glance toward her little
neighbour at the next table, but Clo had never looked so child-like. "I
went to the Riche, and you'd gone," Kit continued. "To the Western; too
late. Gosh! how I hiked for this place! I don't know what I'd done if
I'd lost you!"

"Vot's de row?" Churn asked cheerfully, speaking with a slight and
rather agreeable foreign accent. He poured himself a tumblerful of the
deep-coloured red wine, and drank as if it were water.

"Say, Churn, a big thing's happened. I can't tell you here."

"You want I take you to de hotel?"

"No! I'm never goin' back there. And I can't go to my own digs either.
I'll explain by and by. Could you take me home with you?"

"No, Jake'll be comin' in."

"Well, let's go to Chuff's. We must be somewhere! I've got a thing to
show you, Churn. If there's two rooms free in the house we'll take
'em--or, no, better take one. You'll see why we must be together when
you know. Say, here's money to pay the wine--looks better for you than
me. Then we'll be off."

Clo gazed at the door. No O'Reilly yet. But if this pair went she would
have to go, too. She mustn't lose them!

Churn beckoned a waiter with a ten-dollar bill thrust into his hand by
Kit. The waiter came; but he had to get change. In Clo's lap, hidden
under her napkin, was the bag she had found in Kit's room. Stealthily
she opened it and took out a stub of pencil she had noticed among the
contents. On the table lay a programme of the evening's entertainment.
Neither she nor O'Reilly had glanced at it; but now the girl eagerly
examined the list. Among the names was that of "Lorenz Czerny, Tenor";
and Clo underlined it with the pencil. Beneath, on the margin, she
scrawled: "Kit's come and has been talking to him. They're going away. I
must follow. I leave you all materials for the search--except the pearl.
I keep that. Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself."

Clo had plenty of money, supplied by Beverley, so a five-dollar bill was
laid conspicuously on the crumbs of rusk.

Kit and Churn were on their feet. The waiter had given change, and Churn
was counting it out. Both stood with their backs to Clo. Clo slipped the
programme into the bead bag and the bead bag into a pocket of Beverley's
brown silk