"Sent the papers back!" Clo gasped into the telephone. This coming into touch with O'Reilly over the wire had been a shock. But she forgot the surprise of it in the new surprise of his last words. "Wasn't it you who sent them?" he went on. She stopped to think before daring a reply. O'Reilly had got the papers back, or he wanted her to think so, for some reason of his own. "Well, if you must know, perhaps I did send them," she prevaricated. "I'm glad to have this chance to thank you for repenting. I felt at the time you weren't the stuff trick-confidence-ladies and burglaresses are made of." "I didn't exactly repent," confessed Clo. "I had an object to gain. I'm glad the papers weren't lost on the way. You're sure no one had tampered with the envelope?" "Apparently not. The messenger handed it to me sealed up and seemingly intact, with the address of my bank on it in my own handwriting. The boy wouldn't say how he knew I was staying at the Dietz. He is an ornament to his profession! I want you to know that I don't bear malice." As Clo listened she was surprised at the soothing effect of his voice upon her nerves. It was like hearing the voice of a friend. After all, why should they be enemies, since of the two O'Reilly was the injured party, and had just assured her that he didn't "bear malice?" But he was going on to ask what was the "object" she had wished to gain. "Do you mean to tell me, or is it one of your many mysteries?" "I realized I'd gone to work with you in the wrong way," she ventured. "Now I need someone's help. I need it horribly. It ought to be a man's help. And, except Mr. Sands, you're the only man I know." She heard O'Reilly laughing. He wouldn't laugh if he could see what her eyes saw! "So you want to call a truce?" he asked. "Yes, if I could trust you." "I like that! I wasn't the betrayer. But never mind. Your second thoughts are best. And anyhow, you weren't working for yourself. Do you really want my help?" "Don't I? But it would be for--for----You know whom I mean. And you're her enemy, aren't you?" "Not the least in the world. But I can't buy her pearls, and I'm sure Heron will refuse to bargain if----" "The pearls aren't for sale any more. They've been stolen. She thinks you took them for a hold-up." "The devil she does! But you know better. Tell me what you wish me to do for you, and I'll do it; I wanted to see you again. You were like a bad but interesting dream, broken off in the midst, that I longed to dream over again." "I _feel_ as if I had been broken off in the midst!" said Clo. "I may be broken past mending if somebody doesn't pick up the pieces good and quick! What I want you to do is to meet me outside the Westmorland. Will you? And if so, how soon?" "I will," came the answer. "I'll be there in eight minutes, with a taxi. Does that suit you?"