“I picked it up in front of Heilwiggs’ Dancing Academy.  How did you know who had found it?”

“The owner discovered he had dropped it, soon after he boarded a car, where Captain Tunstall of our force happened to be, and he at once telegraphed to all the stations to be on the look out.  A boot-black whose stand is near Heilwiggs’, reported that he saw one of the ‘Gray Women’ pick up something, and get on an upbound car.  Our station was telephoned to interview the ‘Anchorage’, so you see we are prompt.  I was just going over to ring the bell, and make inquiries.”

“Who lost the book?”

“A man named McIlvane, an Englishman I think, who is obliged to hurry on to-night, in order to catch some New York steamer where his passage is engaged.”

“You are sure he is a foreigner?” asked Beryl, who was feverishly revolving the possibility that the sketch belonged to some detective, and was intended for identification of the picture on the glass door at X——.

“You can’t be sure of anything that is only lip deep, but that was the account telephoned to us.  There is a reward of twenty dollars if the book is delivered by eight P.M.; after that time, ten dollars, and directions left by which to forward it to London.  He said it was worthless to anybody else, but contained a lot of pictures he valued.”

“I do not want the reward, but before I surrender the portfolio, I must see the owner.”

“Why?”

“For reasons that concern only myself.  He can come here, and claim his property; or I will take it to him, and restore it, after he has answered some questions.  You are quite welcome to the reward, which I am sure you merit because of your promptness and circumspection.  Will you notify him that he can obtain his book by calling at the ’Anchorage’?”

“Our instructions are, to deliver the book at Room 213, Hotel Lucullus.  It is now four o’clock.”

“I will not surrender the book to you; but I will accompany you to the hotel, and deliver it to the owner in your presence.  Let us lose no time.”

“Very well.  Sister, I’ll keep a little behind, and jump on the first red star car that passes down.  Look out for me on the platform, and I’ll stop the car for you.”

“Thank you,” said Beryl, wondering whether the sanctity of her garb exacted this mark of deference, or whether the instinctive chivalry of American manhood prompted him to spare her the appearance of police surveillance.

Keeping her in sight, he loitered until they found themselves on the same car, where the officer, apparently engrossed by his cigarette, retained his stand on the rear platform.  In front of the hotel two omnibuses were discharging their human freight, and in the confusion, Beryl and her escort passed unobserved into the building.  He motioned her into one of the reception rooms on the second floor, and made his way to the office.

Drawing her quaint bonnet as far over her face as possible, and straightening her veil, Beryl sat down on a sofa and tried to quiet the beating of her pulses, the nervous tremor that shook her.  She had ventured shyly out of her covert, and like all other hunted creatures, trembled at her own daring in making capture feasible.  Memory rendered her vaguely apprehensive; bitter experience quickened her suspicions.