She leaned toward him a little and again he gathered her in his arms.

The red lips were mutely raised, and he kissed her reverently.

"It's all for you and it will all be right," he a.s.sured her.

"Gene, dear Gene!"

He pressed a b.u.t.ton on the wall and a maid appeared.

"You will have to wait for a couple of hours or so, at least, so if you would like to take off your things?" he suggested with grave courtesy. "I dare say the suite just above is habitable, and the maid is at your service."

The girl regarded him pensively for a moment, then turning ran swiftly up the stairs. The maid started to follow more staidly.

"Just a moment," said Mr. Wynne crisply, in an undertone. "Miss Kellner is not to be allowed to use the telephone under any circ.u.mstances. You understand?" She nodded silently and went up the stairs.

An hour pa.s.sed. From the swivel chair at his desk Mr. Wynne had twice seen Sutton stroll past on the opposite side of the street; and then Claflin had lounged along. Suddenly he arose and went to the window, throwing back the curtains. Sutton was leaning against an electric-light pole, half a block away; Claflin was half a block off in the other direction, in casual conversation with a policeman.

Mr. Wynne looked them over thoughtfully. Curiously enough he was wondering just how he would fare in a physical contest with either, or both.

He turned away from the window at last and glanced at his watch impatiently. One hour and forty minutes! In another half an hour the little bell over his desk should ring. That would mean that a pigeon had arrived from--from out there, and that the automatic door had closed upon it as it entered the cote. But if it didn't come-- if it didn't come! Then what? There was only one conclusion to be drawn, and he shuddered a little when he thought of it. There could only remain this single possibility when he considered the sinister things that had happened--the failure of the girl to get an answer by telephone, and the unexpected appearance of Red Haney with the uncut diamonds. It might be necessary for him to go out there, and how could he do it? How, without leaving an open trail behind him?

How, without inviting defeat in the fight he was making?

His meditations were interrupted by the appearance of Miss Kellner.

She had crept down the stairs noiselessly, and stood beside him before he was aware of her presence. Her eyes sought his countenance questioningly, and the deadly pallor of her face frightened him. She crept into his arms and nestled there silently with dry, staring eyes. He stroked the golden-brown hair with an utter sense of helplessness.

"Nothing yet," he said finally, and there was a thin a.s.sumption of cheeriness in his tone. "It may be another hour, but it will come-- it will come."

"But if it doesn't, Gene?" she queried insistently. Always her mind went back to that possibility.

"We shall cross no bridges until we reach them," he replied. "There is always a chance that the pigeons might have gone astray, for they have this single disadvantage against the incalculable advantage of offering no clew to any one as to where they go; and it is impossible to follow them. If nothing comes in half an hour now I shall send two more."

"And then, if nothing comes?"

"Then, my dear, then we shall begin to worry."

Half an hour pa.s.sed; the little bell was silent; Claflin and Sutton were still visible from the window. Miss Kellner's eyes were immovably fixed on Mr. Wynne's face, and he repressed his gnawing anxiety with an effort. Finally he wrote again on the tissue slips-- three of them this time--and together they climbed to the roof, attached the messages, and watched the birds disappear.

Another hour--two hours--two hours and a half pa.s.sed. Suddenly the girl arose with pallid face and colorless lips.

"I can't stand it, Gene, I can't!" she exclaimed hysterically. "I must know. The telephone?"

"No," he commanded harshly, and he, too, arose. "No."

"I will!" she flashed.

She darted out of the room and along the hall. He followed her with grim determination in his face. She seized the receiver from the hook and held it to her ear.

"h.e.l.lo!" called Central.

"Give me long distance--Coaldale, Number--"

"No," commanded Mr. Wynne, and he placed one hand over the transmitter tightly. "Doris, you must not!"

"I will!" she flamed. "Let me alone!"

"You'll ruin everything," he pleaded earnestly. "Don't you know that they get every number I call? Don't you know that within fifteen minutes they will have that number, and their men will start for there?"

She faced him with blazing eyes.

"I don't care," she said deliberately, and the white face was relieved by an angry flush. "I will know what has happened out there! I must! Gene, don't you see that I'm frantic with anxiety?

The money means nothing to me. I want to know if he is safe."

His hand was still gripped over the transmitter. Suddenly she turned and tugged at it fiercely. Her sharp little nails bit into the flesh of his fingers. In a last desperate effort she placed the receiver to her lips.

"Give me long distance, Coaldale Number--"

With a quick movement he snapped the connecting wire from the instrument, and the receiver was free in her hand.

"Doris, you are mad!" he protested. "Wait a minute, my dear girl-- just a minute."

"I don't care! I _will_ know!"

Mr. Wynne turned and picked up a heavy cane from the hall-stand, and brought it down on the transmitter with all his strength. The delicate mechanism jangled and tingled, then the front fell off at their feet. The diaphragm dropped and rolled away.

"Doris, you must not!" he commanded again gravely. "We will find another way, dear."

"How dare you?" she demanded violently. "It was cowardly."

"You don't understand--"

"I understand it all," she broke in. "I understand that this might lead to the failure of the thing you are trying to do. But I don't care. I understand that already I have lost my father and my brother in this; that my grandmother and my mother were nearly starved to death while it was all being planned; all for these hideous diamonds. Diamonds! Diamonds! Diamonds! I've heard nothing all my life but that. As a child it was dinned into me, and now I am sick and weary of it all. I know--I _know_ something has happened to him now. I hate them! I hate them!"

She stopped, glared at him with scornful eyes for an instant, then ran up the stairs again. Mr. Wynne touched a b.u.t.ton in the wall, and the maid appeared.

"Go lock the back door, and bring me the key," he commanded.

The maid went away, and a moment later returned to hand him the key.

He still stood in the hall, waiting.

After a little there came a rush of skirts, and Miss Kellner ran down the steps, dressed for the street.

"Doris," he pleaded, "you must not go out now. Wait just a moment-- we'll find a way, and then I'll go with you."

She tried to pa.s.s him, but his outstretched arms made her a prisoner.

"Do I understand that you refuse to let me go?" she asked tensely.

"Not like this," he replied. "If you'll give me just a little while then perhaps--perhaps I may go with you. Even if something had happened there you could do nothing alone. I, too, am afraid now.

Just half an hour--fifteen minutes! Perhaps I may be able to find a plan."

Suddenly she sank down on the stairs, with her face in her hands. He caressed her hair tenderly, then raised her to her feet.