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Into a corner of the room her hat, a small black toque, had rolled; not far from the hat lay a very small pinch-bar, the jimmy with which she had forced an entrance.

The window over the fire escape — always locked at night — was wide-open. Its catch hung crookedly.

Mechanically, methodically — because he had been until recently a reporter on a morning paper, and the lessons of years are not unlearned in a few weeks—Carter’s eyes picked up these details and communicated them to his brain while he strove to conquer his bewilderment.

After a while his wits resumed their functions and he went over to kneel beside the girl. Her pulse was regular, but she gave no other indications of life. He lifted her from the floor and carried her to the leather couch on the other side of the room. Then he brought cold water from the bathroom and brandy from the bookcase. Generous applications of the former to her temples and face and of the latter between her lips finally brought a tremor to her mouth and a quiver to her eyelids.

Presently she opened her eyes, looked confusedly around the room, and endeavored to sit up. He pressed her head gently down on the couch.

“Lie still a moment longer — until you feel all right.”

She seemed to see him then for the first time, and to remember where she was. She shook her head clear of his restraining hand and sat up, swinging her feet down to the floor.

“So I lose again,” she said, with an attempt at nonchalance that was only faintly tinged with bitterness, her eyes meeting his.

They were green eyes and very long, and they illuminated her face which, without their soft light, had seemed of too sullen a cast for beauty, despite the smooth regularity of the features.

Carter’s glance dropped to her discolored cheek, where his knuckles had left livid marks.

“I’m sorry I struck you,” he apologized. “In the dark I naturally thought you were a man. I wouldn’t have —”

“Forget it,” she commanded coolly. “It’s all in the game.”

“Aw, stop it!” Impatiently. “It doesn’t amount to anything. I’m all right.”

“I’m glad of that.”

His bare toes came into the range of his vision, and he went into his bedroom for slippers and a robe. The girl watched him silently when he returned to her, her face calmly defiant.

“Now,” he suggested, drawing up a chair, “suppose you tell me all about it.”

She laughed briefly. “It’s a long story, and the bulls ought to be here any minute now. There wouldn’t be time to tell it.”

“The police?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I didn’t send for them! Why should I?”

“God knows!” She looked around the room and then abruptly straight into his eyes. “If you think I’m going to buy my liberty, brother”—her voice was icy insolent — “you’re way off!”

He denied the thought. Then: “Suppose you tell me about it.”

“All primed to listen to a sob story?” she mocked. “Well, here goes: I got some bad breaks on the last couple of jobs I pulled and had to lay low — so low that I didn’t even get anything to eat for a day or two. I figured I’d have to pull another job for getaway money — so I could blow town for a while. And this was it! I was sort of giddy from not eating and I made too much noise; but even at that” — with a scornful laugh — “you’d never have nailed me if I’d had a gun on me!”

Carter was on his feet.

“There’s food of some sort in the icebox. We’ll eat before we do any more talking.”