“I’m listening, Miss Tanner,” Pop Bybee acknowledged wearily. “And I swear I don’t know what to say or do. If they get clear away with that money the show’ll be stranded. Every cent I had in the world was in that safe. Reckon I was a fool to carry it with me, but I never trusted a bank, and it was more convenient, having it right with me. Tomorrow’s payday, too, and all of you are in the same boat with me.” “Listen, boss, let’s take a vote on it.” Gus, the barker, spoke up suddenly and loudly. “Now me—I believe the kid here is telling the truth. No college boy could crack a safe like that. It was a professional job, or I’m a liar! Of course Nita may have tolled the boy off with her and this Steve, since she was so crazy about him, but we ain’t got no proof she did, and as Sally says, if you sick the cops on the boy, the jig will be up with her as well as the boy. Another thing, Dave may be laying in the bushes somewhere with a bullet—” “Oh!” Sally screamed, as the full significance of Gus’ words burst upon her. She fainted then, her little body slumping into a heap at Bybee’s feet, her head striking one of his big shoes and resting there. When she regained consciousness she was lying in the lower berth which had belonged to Nita, and the midget was kneeling on the pillow beside her head, dabbing her face with a handkerchief soaked in aromatic spirits of ammonia. Mazie and Sue, two of the dancers in the “girlie” show, sat on the edge of the berth, their cold-creamed faces almost beautiful with anxiety and sympathy. “What’s the matter? Is it time to get up?” Sally asked dazedly. “What are you doing, Betty?” The midget answered in her tiny, brisk voice: “I’m bathing your face with ammonia which Mrs. Bybee sent. It should be cologne, and this ammonia will probably dry your skin something dreadful, but it was the only thing we could get. You fainted, you know.” “Oh, I remember!” Sally moaned, her head beginning to thresh from side to side on the pillow. “Have they found David? I know he’s been hurt!” “They’re looking for him,” the midget assured her briskly. “Mr. Bybee took a vote on whether he was to notify the police about David’s being gone, as well as Nita, and the vote was ‘No!’ That ought to make you feel happier!” “Oh, it does!” Sally began to cry softly. “You have all been so kind, so kind! You said Mrs. Bybee sent the ammonia?” she asked wistfully. “She certainly did, and she’s in the kitchen of the privilege car right now, making you some hot tea. She won’t say she’s sorry, probably, but she’ll try to make it up to you. She’s like that—always flying off the handle and suspicious of everybody, but she’s got a heart as big as Babe, the fat girl.” “And so have you!” Sally told her brokenly, taking both of the tiny hands into one of hers and laying them softly against her lips.