gave Gregg ground for hoping that she might have concealed what had happened.
Gregg lit a cigarette and, without looking about, he extended his case toward Marjorie and Bill.
Marjorie ignored it; in a moment she released herself from Billy and sat up in a reaction from her deepest fears; she spoke almost with confidence that they would find her father in no real danger. "He's always been so strong," she said; and she busied herself with the small consequences of their flight from the dance.
"Billy, did you make any explanation to Mrs. Lovell?"
"No; sorry. I didn't see her."
"There's such a mob to-night she'll never miss us. I'll call her and explain, after we've found that father's going to be all right."
They were reaching the gay, garishly lit area of refreshment places, resplendent drug stores and motion-picture palaces from which people were pouring from the last show; they passed the tall new apartment hotels and flat buildings converted into hotels and turned into a transverse street of similar character; then Gregg turned again and drove up a darker, more quiet and respectable looking street with a big block of small apartments on the corner and with six flat structures beyond. Gregg stared ahead down the street. It was all quiet, thank God! No lights but the ordinary street lamps; no cars but a single one, with red tail light, at the curb; nobody about but a man or two walking along in an ordinary way.
Gregg took a long breath and went on more slowly, almost to the end of the block, where he saw 4689 in the transom over the door of a good-looking, three-apartment building which stood separated by eight or
