“About eleven.  I’ll expect you—­I must run along now, as I’m ordering some fancy dishes.”

Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene.

“We must be leaving, too.  I’ll accept your invitation.”

“And I’ll be there, too, Mr. Shirley,” put in Pinkie Marlowe.  “I’ll teach you some new steps.  Reggie has a wonderful phonograph for dancing, with all the new tunes.  See you later, girlie.”

They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren.  At the check-room, Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took out his green velour hat.  His feet were adorned with white spats.  After the door of their taxi had slammed he confided to Helene that he had located the gentleman who had caused his wreck that morning.  Still, however, the clues were too weak for action.  The car went first to the club, where Shirley sent in for any possible letters or messages.  The servant brought out a note.  It was another surprise.  He gave an address to the driver and as the car turned up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missive with knit brows.

“A new worry?” asked Helene.  “May I help you?”

He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous handwriting.  It was short.

“Dear Mr. Shirley:  Just received a threatening note demanding money.  Can you come up at once?  Howard V. C.”

Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished.

“As I thought it would turn out.  Baffled in their game of robbing old men who have all left the city, they have begun to work the chance for blackmail.  I will advise Van Cleft to pay them, and then we will follow the money.  Here is the mansion and I will be out in five minutes.”

He soon disappeared behind the bronze door.  True to his promise, in five minutes he had returned.  He looked up and down the Avenue amazed.  Not a trace of the taxicab, nor of Helene Marigold could be seen!

Shirley’s impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the chimera.  He knew she was armed, and would use the weapon if only to call for help.  For the first time in his career the chill of terror crept into his heart—­not for himself, but an irresistible dread of some impending danger for this unfathomable woman who had shared his dangers so uncomplainingly during this last wonderful day.  He racked his mind vainly for some plausible reason.  “She knows I need her.  Yet at the supreme moment of the game she disappears.  Can she be like other women, when she is most necessary?”

And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring to solve this sudden abortion of his best laid plans.

CHAPTER XV

CONCERNING HELENE’S FINESSE