“You left one, I’ll say.  Thesel will lose that eye—­it’s gone now—­and Swann is also disfigured for life.  What a damned shame!”

“Chief, are you sure it’s any kind of a shame?”

Lane’s query appeared to provoke thought.  Bell replaced the little automatic pistol he had picked up beside Swann, and rising he looked at Lane.

“Swann was a slacker.  Thesel was your Captain in the war.  Have these facts anything to do with your motive?”

“No, Chief,” replied Lane, in sarcasm.  “But when I got into action I think the facts you mentioned sort of rejuvenated a disabled soldier.”

“Lane, you beat me,” declared Bell, shaking his head.  “Why, I had you figured as a pretty good chap....  But you’ve done some queer things in Middleville.”

“Chief, if you’re an honest officer you’ll admit Middleville needs some queer things done.”

Bell gazed doubtfully at Lane.

“Smith, search the rooms,” he ordered, addressing his patrolman.

“We were alone here,” spoke up Lane.  “And I advise you to hurry those wounded veterans to a hospital in the rear.”

Swann showed signs of recovering consciousness.  Bell bent over him a moment.  Lane had only one hope—­that the patrolman would miss the door.  But he brushed aside the curtain.  Then he grunted.

“See here, Chief—­a door—­and somebody’s holding it from the inside,” he declared.

“Wait, Smith,” ordered Bell, striding forward.  But before he got half-way across the room the door opened.  A girl stepped out and shut it back of her.  Lane sustained a singular shock.  That girl was Bessy Bell.

“Hello, Dad—­it’s Bessy,” she said, clearly.  She was pale, but did not seem frightened.

Chief Bell halted in the middle of a stride and staggered a little as his foot came down.  A low curse of utter amaze escaped his lips.  Suddenly he became tensely animated.

“How’d you come here?” he demanded, towering over her.

“I walked.”

“What’d you come for?”

“To warn Daren Lane that you were going to raid these club-rooms to-night.”

“Who told you?”

“I won’t tell.  I got it over the ’phone.  I ran over here.  I knew where the key was.  I’ve been here before—­afternoons—­dancing....  I let myself in....  But when they—­they came I got frightened and hid in the closet.”

Chief Bell seemed about to give way to passion, but he controlled it.  After that moment he changed subtly.

“Is Daren Lane your friend?” he demanded.

“Yes.  The best and truest any girl ever had....  Dad, you know mother told you I had changed lately.  I have.  And it’s through Daren.”

“Where’d you see him?”

“He has been coming out to the house in the afternoons.”

“Well, I’m damned,” muttered the Chief, and wheeled away.  Sight of his gaping patrolman seemed to galvanize him into further realization of the situation.  “Smith, beat it out and draw the other men round in front.  Give me time enough to get Bessy out.  Send hurry call for ambulance....  And Smith, keep your mouth shut.  I’ll make it all right.  If Mrs. Bell hears of this my life will be a hell on earth.”