Cleo threw herself into a chair, sprang up again, listened for a moment at the door, her hand pressed to her side.

“Mademoiselle,” Grant said to her soothingly, “consider. You’re in no such great danger. Mademoiselle Yvonne is, I understand, unhurt. Even if you should be arrested the charge will not be a serious one.”

“They will keep me in prison a month, perhaps two months,” she cried. “And all that time he will be with her. It is not to be borne. I meant to kill her. I wish I had killed her.”

He tried to reason with her.

“Mademoiselle Cleo,” he pointed out, “you are young, extremely attractive, a wonderful dancer. I will take an apartment for you and have you appointed principal danseuse at one of our best restaurants here. You shall have two thousand dollars a month and an automobile. I will present to you the young men of the city. Why worry about that faithless Itash? I will do all this for you, if you will tell us in these few seconds, while you still have time, those things which remain in your memory.”

“In five minutes you will know,” she replied. “In five minutes if Itash will not promise to give up Yvonne, I shall tell you all for nothing. Then we will see.”

“You will trust to his promise?”

“If he lies, he knows that this time I shall kill him. I am not a girl who can be treated as he has done. He shall learn that.”

There was a slow and somewhat ponderous knocking at the door. She turned towards it, breathless, expectant. Then suddenly she gave a little cry.

“It is too soon,” she exclaimed. “It must be those others. Protect me. For heaven’s sake, don’t let them take me before Itash comes.”

The knocking was repeated, and this time the door was instantly opened. There was no doubt about the character of the two men who entered; detective was written on every feature. One stood by the door. The other advanced a little into the room.

“Mr. Slattery, I believe,” he said. “Sorry to intrude upon you, sir, but I have a warrant for the arrest of that young woman. You’re Mademoiselle Cleo?” he went on.

“What do you want with me?” she demanded.

“I’ll have to take you to the police station, young lady,” was the brusque reply. “Charge of shooting with the intent to murder. You’d better keep your mouth closed till you get to headquarters.”

She looked around her a little wildly.

“Can’t you make them wait until Itash comes?” she begged of Grant. “He will, perhaps, arrange with them. I didn’t mean to hurt her. All that I want is Itash.”

“Say, young lady,” the detective interposed, “our orders are that you are not to talk. We’ve an automobile outside and if you’ll just allow me to run you over first for arms, I guess we can let you walk ahead of us and no fuss.”

“I have no weapons,” she declared, holding out her arms. “You can search me if you like.”

“Who’s this Itash she’s talking about?” the detective enquired, as he passed his hands over the girl’s quivering body.

“Count Itash. The Japanese gentleman who was with the girl she is supposed to have shot at,” Grant told him.

“So he was the cause of the trouble, was he?” the man observed. “Well, young lady, he’ll be able to see you at Police Headquarters after you’ve been examined.”

“Before I go,” she began

“Stop it!” the detective insisted. “My orders are strict. You are not to be allowed to talk. Special orders from the Chief of Police. I don’t want to do anything harsh and I don’t wish to lay hands on the young lady,” the man went on, turning to Grant, “but she’s got to cut out the gab. This way, young lady.”

They had already taken a step towards the door when it was suddenly opened. The second detective stood on one side, as Itash walked in. He was looking very pale and solemn, but, as usual, neatly and correctly dressed. Cleo would have rushed towards him, but for the restraining hand upon her shoulder.

“Sammy!” she cried. “You see what they’re doing to me. They are taking me to prison. Tell them about it, Sammy. It was not really my fault. Send them away, please. Give them money. Tell them I am sorry. Anything. And tell me that it is finished with Yvonne. Take me away with you, Sammy.”

He looked at her without changing a muscle of his countenance. Then he turned to the detective.

“Where are you taking her?” he enquired.

“To Police Headquarters,” the man replied. “And it’s about time we were off.”

“Do not let me detain you,” Itash said coldly. “Police Headquarters is a very good place indeed for that young lady. She was once a friend of mine, but she is so no longer. She tried to murder the young lady who was my companion last night. I have no wish to stand in the way of her punishment.”

Mademoiselle Cleo seemed to have become suddenly calm. Only her eyes burned as she looked towards Itash.

“It is thus you speak to me?” she moaned. “You have no pity. No longer any love.”

“It is finished,” he pronounced.

She beckoned to Slattery, who stepped quickly forward. The officer would have thrust his hand over her mouth but he was too late. She whispered for a moment in Grant’s ear. Then she tu............