She looked like a girl who could not have been more than eighteen,
if she was as old as that. She was pretty, too, but already her
face was beginning to look old and worn from the use of drugs. It
was unmistakable.

In spite of the fact that she was hurrying, it was not difficult
to follow her in the crowd, as she picked her way in and out, and
finally turned into Broadway where the white lights were welcoming
the night.

Under the glare of a huge electric sign she stopped a moment, then
entered one of the most notorious of the cabarets.

We entered also at a discreet distance and sat down at a table.

"Don't look around, Walter," whispered Craig, as the waiter took
our order, "but to your right is Mrs. Sutphen."

If he had mentioned any other name in the world, I could not have
been more surprised. I waited impatiently until I could pick her
out from the corner of my eye. Sure enough, it was Mrs. Sutphen
and another woman. What they were doing there I could not imagine,
for neither had the look of habitues of such a place.

I followed Kennedy's eye and found that he was gazing furtively at
a flashily dressed young man who was sitting alone at the far end
in a sort of booth upholstered in leather.

The girl in white, whom I was now sure was Miss Sawtelle, went
over and greeted him. It was too far to see just what happened,