Kingdon's gowns--a clever bell-boy it takes to find a woman's
pocket, but even the real masculine ones among 'em are half
feminine; they've had so much to do with women.

I rummaged through her writing-desk, and, in searching a
gold-cornered pad, found a note from Moriway hidden under the
corner. I hid it again carefully--in my coat pocket. A
love-letter from Moriway, to a woman twenty years older than
himself--'tain't a bad lay, Tom Dorgan, but you needn't try it.

At first she watched every move I made, but later, as her
headache grew worse, she got desperate. So then I put my hand
down into the shoe-bag and found the key, where it had slipped
under a fold of cloth.

Do you suppose that woman was grateful? She snatched it from me.

"I knew it was there. I told you it was there. If you'd had any
sense you'd have looked there first. The boys in this hotel are
so stupid."

"That's all, ma'am?"

She nodded. She was fitting the key into the black box she'd
taken from the top drawer. Nat had got to the outside door when
he heard her come shrieking after him.

"Nat--Nat--come back! My diamonds--they're not here. I know I
put them back last night--I'm positive. I could swear to it.
I can see myself putting them in the chamois bag, and--O my God,