She went directly to her apartment and presently took down the telephone-receiver, and after calling a public phone in a building down-town, she listened intently while the operator was getting her connection, and before the connection was made she hung up the receiver with a smile, for she had distinctly heard the sound of a man’s breathing over the line, and she knew that in all probability O’Donnell had tapped in immediately on learning that she had been released from jail.

That evening she attended a local motion-picture theater which she often frequented.  It was one of those small affairs, the width of a city block, with a narrow aisle running down either side and all emergency exit upon the alley at the far end of each aisle.  The theater was darkened when she entered and, a quick glance apprizing her that no one followed her in immediately, she continued on down one of the side aisles and passed through the doorway into the alley.

Five minutes later she was in a telephone-booth in a drug-store two blocks away.

“Is this Feinheimer’s?” she asked after she had got her connection.  “I want to talk to Carl.”  She asked for Carl because she knew that this man who had been head-waiter at Feinheimer’s for years would know her voice.

“Is that you, Carl?” she asked as a man’s voice finally answered the telephone.  “This is Little Eva.”

“Oh, hello!” said the man.  “I thought you were over at the county jail.”

“I was released to-day,” she explained.  “Well, listen, Carl; I’ve got to see the Lizard.  I’ve simply got to see him to-night.  I was being shadowed, but I got away from them.  Do you know where he is?”

“I guess I could find him,” said Carl in a low voice.  “You go out to Mother Kruger’s.  I’ll tell him you’ll be there in about an hour.”

“I’ll be waiting in a taxi outside,” said the girl.

“Good,” said Carl.  “If he isn’t there in an hour you can know that he was afraid to come.  He’s layin’ pretty low.”

“All right,” said the girl, “I’ll be there.  You tell him that he simply must come.”  She hung up the receiver and then called a taxi.  She gave a number on a side street about a half block away, where she knew it would be reasonably dark, and consequently less danger of detection.

Three-quarters of an hour later her taxi drew up beside Mother Kruger’s, but the girl did not alight.  She had waited but a short time when another taxi swung in beside the road-house, turned around and backed up alongside hers.  A man stepped out and peered through the glass of her machine.  It was the Lizard.

Recognizing the girl he opened the door and took a seat beside her.  “Well,” inquired the Lizard, “What’s on your mind?”

“Jimmy,” replied the girl.

“I thought so,” returned the Lizard.  “It looks pretty bad for him, don’t it?  I wish there was some way to help him.”

“He did not do it,” said the girl.