“Nothing happened. Nothing could have happened. It was only that—that——” Tony swallowed hard, and then went on courageously: “She asked me when her mistress had gone home, and I told her just a few minutes before. Then she said she must telephone her, if we were to have a moment together. She said that she could easily make out an excuse. And, though I had no—no particular interest in Maria,” faltered poor Tony unhappily, “I couldn’t see what I could do to get out of that! And—and she did telephone, and when she came back from telephoning,” he said, speaking carefully, and evidently trying his best to make the thing sound as commonplace as possible, “she told me that her mistress had just come in, and that she was so excited she could scarcely speak, and she wanted Maria at once, and that she had told Maria that if ever she had cared anything about her, she must be prepared to stand by her now—and to hurry—hurry—hurry—hurry! That’s what poor Maria kept repeating to herself. And that’s what I had in my mind when I went into Jim’s rooms, for it was the last thing in my mind. “I was afraid then and there of Miss Legaye’s doing something—queer—but before I had a chance to tell Jim what I thought—that message came, and he was off!” Almost directly they were at Ferrati’s and confronting Ferrati himself, who looked alarmed at the sight of these visitors. It required small astuteness to see that his party was an unexpected one, and that the unexpectedness was only rivaled by the lack of welcome. Finding that ordinary and moderately courteous inquiries were only met with extreme haziness of perception, Tony saw that he would have to push his way in. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Willie Coster expected the same result; also that Tara looked mildly pleased. Doubtless he was pondering enjoyably upon jujutsu and what it could accomplish. Considered collectively, the party was not one to be ignored. As though to put an exclamation point after the sound sense of the rest, Miss Templeton, who had been extremely quiet through it all, suddenly drew out a revolver from the pocket of her raincoat. Tony thrilled, for it was the one that he had seen her buy. “Before we fight our way in,” she said amiably enough, “suppose we try just walking in? I don’t believe that these poor creatures will make much trouble.” She smiled, not too pleasantly, at the poor creatures. But they did! They made so much trouble that it took the lot of them fifteen minutes to get to that dark inner room where Jim Barrison was imprisoned. By that time Lowry and three good men had arrived in a racing car, and by the same time, Tony Clay had been put out of business by two of Ferrati’s “huskies.” “Never mind about me!” he had implored them. “Get Jim out!” They did. And they found Jim blinking at them out of that awesome darkness, holding Kitty in an iron grip. He was rather white, but he tried to smile.