"Oh, Worth! I do. I do want to play with you," she was almost in tears now. "But you see, I didn't quite understand. I felt as though you were sort of putting me through my paces." "Sure not," Worth drove it at her like a turbulent urchin. "I'm having the time of my young life with this thing, and I want to take you in on it." "If--if you fail you lose a lot of money; wasn't that what you said?" she questioned. "Oh, yes," he nodded, "Nothing in it if there weren't a gamble." "And if he wins out, he makes quite a respectable pile," I added. "What I want of you now," he explained, "is to go with us to Clayte's room at the St. Dunstan--the room he disappeared from--look it over and tell us how he got out and where he went." He made his request light-heartedly; she considered it after the same fashion; it seemed to me all absurdity. "To-morrow morning--Sunday," she said. "No office to-morrow," she sipped the last of her black coffee slowly. "All the rest of the facts there ever will be about Edward Clayte are in that room--aren't they?" Her voice was musing; she looked straight ahead of her as she finished softly, "What time do we go?" "Early. Does nine o'clock suit you?" Worth didn't even glance at me as he made this arrangement for us both. "We'd scoot up there now if it wasn't so late." "I've no doubt you'll find the place carpeted with zeros and hung with noughts and ciphers." I couldn't refrain from joshing her a little. She took it with a smile glanced across the room, looked a little surprised, and half rose with, "Why, there they are for me now." I couldn't see anybody that she might mean, except a man who had walked the length of the place talking to the head waiter, and now stood arguing at the corner of what had been Bronson Vandeman's supper table. This man evidently had his attention directed to us, turned, looked, and in the moment of his crossing I saw that it was Cummings. There was not even the usual tight-lipped half smile under that cropped mustache of his. "Good evening." He looked at our faces, uttering none of the surprise he plainly felt, letting the two words do for greeting to us all, and, as it seemed, to me, an expression of disapproval as well. The young lady replied first. "Oh, Mr. Cummings, did they send you for me? Where are the others?" She had come to her feet, and reached for the coat which Worth was holding more as if he meant to keep it than put it on her. "I left your chaperone waiting in the machine," Cumming's tone and look carried a plain hurry-up. Worth took his time about the coat, and spoke low to the girl while he helped her into it. "You'll go with us to-morrow morning?" She gave me one of those adorable smiles that brought the dimples momentarily in her cheeks. "If Mr. Boyne wants me. He hasn't said yet."