did not quickly discover the Royle girl; indeed, he failed to find her until half of the company of the Temple had disappeared.
The process of their vanishing, although rapid, yet assumed nothing of the nature of a rush for the doors. The waiters, under orders, were whispering to selected patrons, "Looks like a raid," and the favored ones immediately departed.
Calvin discerned this; and he had obtained, also, a glimpse of Baretta before the proprietor had favored himself at the very first moment after he had learned that the rear door was not covered. Frankie Zenn imperturbably remained, exhibiting a puzzling contrast to his chief's conduct. Why, if Baretta expected a raid upon the place or if he feared trouble over the Considine affair, did not Zenn fear it even more? What to-night personally and particularly threatened George Baretta?
Likely he had heard, Calvin reckoned, that some of his former friends were saying that he had shot Adele Ketlar; but why should a rumor such as that upset him? For one reason only—if it were provable. So Calvin was shifting some of the settled certainties in his own mind, when he caught sight of the Royle girl at a table with Oliver.
She was seated, wearing her coat and hat, ready to go out, as also was the reporter; evidently they had noticed him some moments earlier, for Calvin found them both watching him, and she glanced up at Oliver, who was standing beside the table, and they exchanged some words regarding himself, Calvin believed. Oliver advanced and Calvin met him at the edge of the cleared dance floor.
"She's identified him positively, sir," Oliver whispered, importantly.
"Who?" asked Calvin.
"George Baretta; he was the man in the flat. It's posi-
