Jerry stepped ahead of me but over his shoulder I saw Dorothy Crewe. She lay almost as if she were asleep in her pale blue dress in which she had danced that night; her hair was beautiful as ever--corn-color hair, little disarranged; her face and neck and arms were white and run with red where cuts and scratches showed. There were signs of street soil on her dress but none on her body; some one had washed them away. “She’s not dead!” Jerry cried; then, in a whisper, “How is she?” Said the ambulance surgeon, “We don’t know.” “But she’s not dead!” “No; not yet, anyway.” Jerry’s face hovered over hers as he searched hers; then, very softly, he kissed her. “You’ll not die!” he whispered to her; then, to the surgeon, “Don’t let her die, doctor,” he said. “What’s happened here?” I asked the officers. It seemed that she’d been found in the street by a patrolman walking his beat; he thought she was dead so he sent her to the station. Now, having found life in her, the doctor was for taking her to a hospital; but he honestly thought it no use at all. “What do you know?” the police came back at us. “She’s Dorothy Crewe,” Jerry told them, and added her father’s name and number of his home. “To-night I took her to a dance at the Sparlings’. She had a necklace--here.” Gently he touched her throat where were marks made by him who had snatched at her necklace and torn it away. “Diamonds and sapphires,” Jerry went on and seemed to forget what he said. A police captain named Mullaney kept at me. “When did she leave Mr. Sparling’s?” “About half-past twelve,” I said. “She was going from there to a dance at the Drake hotel given by Mr. Casoway. She never arrived there.” “Go on,” said the captain. Jerry went on. “She left the Sparlings’ wearing, besides what she has on, a blue silk cloak and a necklace of diamonds and sapphires on a platinum chain, which her father brought her from Paris.” “Perhaps you’ve read about it,” I put in. “They were supposed to be worth a quarter million.” “I suppose,” said Jerry, “they were gone when you found her.” “She had on her a quarter million in stones!” the captain repeated. “Well, that makes it some plainer, sir. They was off her when we found her. Now go right on, Mr. Fanneal. She left Mr. Sparling’s big house on the Drive to go to the Drake hotel at half-past twelve, you say? She didn’t go off, at that hour, alone?” Jerry swung quickly and looked at me. “I’ll tell ’em, Steve!” “Go ahead,” I said. God knows, I didn’t want to. I had no idea how to tell it; my thoughts, on the subject of Keeban, were absolutely a blob, just then. “She did not leave alone, Captain,” Jerry told. “There is some confusion over who she went with. That was why, when she did not come to the Drake or return home, we became alarmed and I telephoned to you. Some people thought she went away with me; but she did not.” “Go on,” said Mullaney again.