At the La Salle Street entrance Orme had a fleeting glimpse of the watching Alcatrante. The South American, after one astonished stare, darted away in the dusk. He would follow them, of course, but Orme decided to say nothing about him to the girl. "I must telephone," she said suddenly, stopping as if to turn back into the building. "Father will be very anxious." "The booths in the building must be closed," he said. "We'd better try a drug store." Accordingly they made their way to the nearest, and the girl went to the booth. The door was shut for a long time. While he was waiting, Orme glanced through the brilliant window. In the light of an electric lamp across the street he discerned faintly a motionless figure; without hesitation he crossed the pavement, recognizing Alcatrante more clearly as he left the dazzle of the store. The minister did not budge. His face, as Orme approached, was cold and expressionless. "Senhor," exclaimed Orme, "does your trade include murder?" "Not at all. Why do you ask, Mr. Orme?" "Because only a lucky intervention has saved you from the murder of a young lady and myself." "You are exaggerating, my dear sir." Alcatrante laughed. "Is it your custom to lock people into air-tight chambers?" "Air-tight?" Alcatrante was clearly disconcerted. "I did not suppose that it was air-tight. Also, I did not dream that the young lady was there. But this game is a serious game, Mr. Orme. You do not appear to understand. When one is working for his country, many strange things are justified." "Even murder?" "Even murder--sometimes." Orme had an inspiration. "Thank you for the truth, Senhor," he said. "I, too, am working for my country. If you continue to follow us, I shall assume that you have murder in your mind, and I shall act accordingly." Alcatrante smiled coolly. "This is fair warning," continued Orme. He glanced to the drug store and saw the girl coming out of the telephone-booth. Hastening across the street, he met her at the door. "If father had had any idea of such complications when we came West," she said, "there would have been plenty of men near by to help us. As it is, we shall have to act alone. It is not a matter for detectives--or for the police, I--I almost wish it were," she faltered. Orme wondered again whether this father could have realized what dangers the girl was encountering. But, as if divining his sudden anger against the man who could let his daughter run such risks, she added: "He doesn't know, of course, the details of our adventures. I have permitted him to think that it is simply a matter of searching." "And now he is reassured." "Yes. Oh, you have no idea yet how important it is." "You were a long time in the booth," he said. A mysterious smile flittered across her face. "I thought of another person I wished to talk to. That person was hard to get." "Long distance?" "It proved necessary to use long distance."