"You used the word 'coincidence,' Mr. Boyne." She leaned across toward me, eyes bright, little finger tip marking her points. "Allow one coincidence--that the only description, the only photograph missing from your files are those of the self-effacing Clayte. To-day Clayte has proved to be a thief--" "In seven figures," Worth threw in, and she smiled at him. "You would call that another coincidence, Mr. Boyne?" I nodded, rather unable at the moment to think of a better word to use. "Two coincidences," she went on,--"we are still in mathematics--you can't add. They run by geometrical progression into the impossible." The phone rang. While I turned to answer it, my mind was still hunting a comeback to this. The call was from Foster, just in from Ocean View and reporting for instructions. Covering the transmitter with my hand, I told Worth the situation and asked, "Any suggestions?" "Not I," he shook his head. I added, a bit sarcastically, "Or you, Miss Wallace?" "Yes," she surprised me. "Have your man Foster find three women who have seen Edward Clayte; get from them the color of his hair and eyes; tell him to have them be exact about it." "Fine! But you know they'll not agree, any more than the other people agreed." "Oh, yes they will," she laughed at me a little. "Don't you notice that a girl always says a blue-eyed man or a brown-eyed man? That's what she sees when she first meets him, and it sticks in her mind. Girls and women sort out people by types; small differences in color mean something to them." I didn't keep Foster waiting any longer. "Hello," I spoke quickly into the transmitter. "Get busy and dig out any women clerks of the bank, stenographers, scrub-women there, or whatever, and ask them particularly as to the exact shade of Clayte's hair and eyes. Get Mrs. Griggsby again at the St. Dunstan. I want at least three women who can give these points exactly. Exactly, understand?" He did, and I thanked Miss Wallace for her suggestion. "Now that," I said, "is what I want; a good, practical idea--" "And it won't be a bit of use in the world to you," she laughed across the table into my eyes. "Why, Mr. Boyne, you've found out already that there are too many Edward Claytes, speaking in physical terms, for you to run one down by description. There are three of him here, within sight of our table right now--and the place isn't crowded." I grinned in half grudging agreement, and found nothing to say. It was Worth who spoke. "Like to have you go a step further in this, if you would," and when she shook her head, he went on a bit sharply. "See here, Bobs; you and I used to be pals, didn't we?" She nodded, her look brightening. "Well then, here's the biggest game I've been up against since I crawled out of the trenches and shucked my uniform. I come to you and give you the high-sign--and you throw me down. You don't want to play with me--is that it?"