James's involuntary start of dismay did not pass unnoticed. He did
not relish the gleam in Pope's eyes, and he hastily sought refuge
in a goblet of water, notwithstanding his distaste for the liquid.

"We sometimes know as much as the police, and we invariably tell
more," continued Pope. "Yes, a business man can get a hair-cut in
Tony's without fear of family complications now. I suppose
Armistead is smoking hop; young Sullivan is probably laying an
alcoholic foundation for a wife-beating, and--the others are
spending Hammon's money in the cafes."

Jimmy Knight paled, for behind Pope's genial smile were both
mockery and contempt; a panic swept him lest this fellow should
acquaint Lorelei with the truth. Jim lost interest in his clams
and thereafter avoided conversation with the wariness of a fox.

He was still glowing with resentment when Robert Wharton paused at
the table and greeted its occupants cheerily. In response to Jim's
invitation Bob drew up a fourth chair, seated himself, and began
to beam upon Lorelei. Noting the faint line of annoyance between
her brows, he laughed.

"Retreat is cut off," he announced, complacently; "escape is
hopeless. I've left orders to have the windows barred and the
doors walled up."

"Eh? What's the idea?" inquired Pope.

Wharton answered sadly: "My vanity has suffered the rudest jolt of
its young career; I mourn the death of a perfectly normal and