It was ten minutes of the hour.

"Take me to the F Street elevator and then hurry on," said she.

"And you will do nothing--and go nowhere until tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'll promise to remain here until--"

"I come for you in the morning?" he broke in.

"If I'm not abducted in the interval, I'll wait," and stepped into the
car. "Good-night, Mr. Harleston!" she smiled--and the car shot upward.

"Hum!" muttered Harleston as he turned for his coat and hat. "I may be
a fool, but I'll risk it--and I think I'm _not_."

It was but a step to Headquarters and he walked.

"The Superintendent," he said to the sergeant on duty in the outer
office.

"The Chief has gone home, Mr. Harleston," was the answer.

"Home?"

"Yes, sir, two hours ago; he'll not be back tonight."

"Get him on the telephone," Harleston directed.