Alcatrante, in ungovernable rage, raised his light cane and struck. Orme fended the blow with his arm, then wrenched the cane away and threw it into the street. A swarm of passers-by gathered about them so quickly that in a moment they were the center of a circle. "You dunce," said Orme. "Do you want the police?" "No," muttered Alcatrante, controlling himself with a great effort. "You are right." He darted into the crowd at one side, and Orme, quick to take the hint, disappeared in the opposite direction, crossing the street and jumping into an empty cab, which had drawn up in anticipation of a fight. "To the Rookery," he ordered, naming the first office-building that came into his head. "Sure," said the driver, and away they rattled. A glance back showed Orme that the crowd was dispersing. At a distance was Alcatrante. He had seen Orme's escape, and was looking about vainly for another cab. But cabs are not numerous on North Parker Street, and Orme, so far as he could tell, was not followed. When his cab drew up at the busy entrance on La Salle Street, he found his way to the nearest public telephone. The hour was close to five, and he must discover quickly where he could find the girl. He called up the Père Marquette. "This is Mr. Orme," he explained to the clerk. "Have there been any calls or messages for me?" "Yes, sir, Mr. and Mrs. Wallingham called up at twelve-thirty to know if you were going to Arradale with them." The golfing engagement! Orme had not even thought of it since the evening before. "Anything else?" "Yes, sir. A Japanese came about one o'clock. He left no name." "The same man who came last evening?" "No, sir, an older man." The Japanese minister had doubtless gone straight from Arima's apartment to the Père Marquette. "Anything else?" asked Orme. "There was a 'phone call for you about eleven o'clock. The party left no name." "A woman's voice?" "Yes, sir. She said: 'Tell Mr. Orme that I shall not be able to call him up at noon, but will try to do so as near two o'clock as possible.'" "Did she call up again at two?" "No, sir. There's no record of it." Orme understood. In the interval after her attempt to reach him she had learned at Arima's of his seeming treachery. "Very well," he said to the clerk, and hung up the receiver. What should he do now? The girl had given him up. He did not know her name or where to find her, and yet find her he must and that within the next few hours. The unquestionably great importance of the papers in his pocket had begun to weigh on him heavily. He was tempted to take them out, there in the telephone-booth, and examine them for a clue. The circumstances justified him.