“And I’ll ask you to do the same,” said Kenyon. He wrote the name of his hotel on one of his own cards and handed it to the pugilist. “It’ll be worth your while.” “So her name is Gilbert, eh?” said Webster, when they reached the street. “And she’s a girl addicted to helping the poor. I say, Kenyon, that sounds rather good.” Kenyon looked at his watch. “I’ll be saying good-night,” remarked he. “It’s not quite 9.30, and I’ll probably get there at a decent time.” “Get where?” asked the astonished Webster. “Why, to this Mulberry Street Club, of course. It is Friday night, you see. I have a few straightforward words to say to Miss Gilbert about a certain packet, and I’m going to say them at once.” XVII AT THE GIRLS’ CLUB IN MULBERRY STREET “If the instinct prompts you to mistrust--obey. For instincts are the whisperings of the gods.” --_A Maxim of Hong Yo._ STEELE KENYON found the Girls’ Club without a great deal of trouble. It was a new and solid-looking building and from top to bottom every window gleamed with lights. He made inquiries of a sergeant of police who happened along upon his round of inspection. The sergeant was a ruddy-faced, white-haired man with the hale look of that type of old New Yorker whose reminiscences never went above Canal Street. “That club,” said the silver-haired sergeant, “is one of the finest things in the city; and the women who carry it on deserve every kind of credit. You know how girls are brought up in some parts of the East Side; they don’t get any kind of training; they are not taught to do any useful work in their homes. They get to know the inside of workshops pretty early, and what they hear there, sometimes, is not the best thing for them. Then come the dances, the drink and the street.” “And this is the class of girls that forms the membership of the club?” “For the most part. And it helps them a lot. If they have a talent it is developed, if they have a liking it is encouraged. And there is nothing preachy or goody-goody about the place. That’s the secret of its success. They will teach a girl to dance just as readily as they’ll teach one to spell. I think the secretary, Miss Gilbert, is responsible for most of the successful features. She’s a wonderful young lady.” The sergeant was about to pass on; then paused and continued: “If you are thinking of helping the club along with a contribution, why, do it. You’ll make no mistake. It’s the real goods.” “Quite an idea,” mused Kenyon, after the policeman had gone. “By George, it’s the very thing for me!” He had been standing upon the opposite side; so now he crossed the street and entered the building. A group of girls were in the hall, muffling themselves up, for the night was cold for the time of year. At sight of the tall, elegantly attired young man, they set up a subdued whispering and giggling.