“Well?” demanded the clerk. He looked frankly ugly; ugly in temper as well as in features. He could see that they were not incoming guests, for they had no luggage; and it was too early for callers of any reputable type. He put them down as a breed suspicious, being unknown, of neither fish nor fowl variety. “_Well?_” he repeated urgently. Barrison produced a card. “We would like to see Miss Legaye,” he suggested pleasantly. As he put down the slip of pasteboard on the desk counter, his quick eyes noted a bell boy standing at the news stand, taking over an armful of assorted morning papers. Obviously, the lad was just going up to leave them at the doors of the guests; they would have to work quickly, he and Tony, if they were to get ahead of them. “Miss Legaye,” repeated the clerk. “Miss Legaye. Are you guys dippy? Miss Legaye always leaves word that she ain’t at home to no one till after twelve o’clock. Now beat it!” Barrison sized up the clerk, and decided on his course. “Say, brother,” he murmured, with a confidential accent, “we don’t mean to annoy Miss Legaye; we want to give her a boost. Get me? We’re reporters, and we’re looking for a first-class story. Say, take it from me, she’ll be keen to see us if you’ll just phone up!” The slang won his case. The clerk looked at him with more respect. “Say, you’re talking almost like a human being!” he remarked. “Want me to phone up for you, eh?” He waited a perceptible space. “Times is hard,” he declared, in an airy manner, “and phone calls is high. Did I hear you say anything?” “Maybe not me,” said Barrison, who had laid a dollar bill on the desk. “But I’ve known money to talk before now.” The clerk actually chuckled. “You’re on,” he said, pocketing the bill with a discreet look around the almost deserted office. “I’ll phone up!” He turned around a minute later to inform Barrison that Miss Legaye would see him at once. A few minutes later they were knocking at the door of Kitty Legaye’s apartment. Resting against the lintel were half a dozen morning papers; clearly she had ordered them ahead, in the expectation of criticisms of the first night. The indefatigable bell boy had been ahead of them, but there was still time to rectify that. The boy who had piloted them had vanished. Barrison picked up the whole bundle, and gave them a vigorous swing down the corridor. This had barely been accomplished when the door opened, and an impeccably attired lady’s maid asked them to please come in; Miss Legaye would see them in a moment. Kitty’s parlor was like Kitty herself, discreet, yet subtly daring; conventional, yet alluring. She had made short work of the regulation hotel furnishings, and replaced them with trifles of her own, which gave the place a dainty and audacious air calculated to pique the interest of almost anybody.