The obviously honest answer sharpened Clifford’s already poignant uneasiness. “Slant-Face, I saw her an hour ago.”

“In New York?”

“At the Grand Alcazar.” And then he added: “She was with Peter Loveman.”

Even the stoic Slant-Face started. “With Peter[23] Loveman!—the lawyer that beat Bradley’s case for him! What the devil does that mean?”

[23]

“Just what I’m wondering myself.”

“You mean you didn’t ask her anything—didn’t speak to her?”

“No.”

Slant-Face looked his bewilderment. He had had his own private guess at what had been the situation between Clifford and his sister. But he did not ask the “why” of this to him strange behaviour on Clifford’s part.

“Mary with Peter Loveman!” he repeated. “Either Mary is trying to put something across—in the old way, you understand; or else she’s—well, it looks like queer doings to me!”

“That’s why I looked you up. Some one should step in, and stop what’s under way. I supposed you knew where she was.”

“I’m going to begin to try to find out,” said Slant-Face. “And you?”

“Same here. By the way, would your Uncle Joe know anything?”

“Didn’t you know? He’s sold out everything here and bought himself a fruit farm in California.”

“Then there’s just one man we’re certain does know. That’s Loveman, and I’m going after Loveman. Let me know if you get next to anything, Slant-Face. So-long.”

Clifford and the once master pickpocket clasped hands.

[24]“And Slant-Face,” Clifford added, “about that other matter—getting money in the old way. Don’t do it.”

[24]

“I’m not promising,” said Slant-Face quietly.

Clifford privately asked Police Commissioner Thorne to help in locating Mary Regan. Also he hunted up little Lieutenant Jimmie Kelly, one hundred and twenty pounds of grit and daring, head of the Tenderloin Squad that free-lanced through the hotels, restaurants, and resorts of Broadway, and of 

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