own, much less another’s pockets, and his stiffened fingers could not palm a coin in the dark, yet a stranger had accused him of deftly lifting a watch.  It seemed significant that two plain-clothes men should have been at Sullivan’s elbow at the moment.  The prize-fighter had acted according to his nature, and a fine row had resulted, in the midst of which there had dropped out of his clothes a gold watch which Sullivan violently protested he had never seen before.  His imperious demand upon Max for help was resentfully couched, but Melcher dared not refuse to act as his bondsman.

Max was worried when he left the jail, and his perturbation increased when he discovered late that night that Armistead had disappeared, with the evident intention of jumping his bond.  Convinced now that something must be badly out of joint, he lost no time in warning Lilas Lynn to go slow with her blackmailing enterprise.  Indeed, he ordered her to drop it entirely until he had time to discover where the trouble lay.

Upon the girl this command had an unexpected effect; for not only did it prove to her that Max had lost his pull at headquarters, but it also strengthened her determination to betray him in accordance with Jimmy Knight’s suggestion.  Why, indeed, should she share her gains with anybody?  If Max had no right to any part of the loot what possible claim had Jim to share in it?  Once Lilas’s cupidity was aroused it banished even that meager ghost of honor that is supposed to prevail among thieves; and, disregarding Max’s caution, she decided to take things entirely into her own hands, riding this wave of success to the finish.  Accordingly she sent for Bob.

It did not take her long to see that Wharton had changed since their last interview, and accordingly she did not put herself to the trouble of acting—­in fact, Bob allowed her no opportunity of doing so.

“Now don’t give me that stall about Melcher,” he said, in answer to her first inquiries “I’m on.”

Miss Lynn’s cheeks had lost the power of changing color, but her eyes were as expressive as ever, and now as she stared at her victim they showed a certain inflexibility of purpose.

“You must have been talking to Merkle,” she said, slowly.

“Exactly.  He’s not such a fool as I am.”

“Well?” There was an insolent rising inflection in Lilas’s voice.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Bob had prepared himself for some denial, for some pretense of ignorance, at least, and he was taken aback at this ready acceptance of his challenge.  Something malevolent in her air increased his uneasiness.  The girl was as hard as flint and seemed capable of any desperate action.

“You say you love Lorelei; you pretend to be grateful to me—­”