“He has just gone out,” replied the stenographer with tremendous sweetness.  Anybody could look pretty in expensive clothes like Constance Joy’s.

There was a moment’s hesitation.

“Is Mr. Gamble in?”

The girl smiled quite brightly.

“Mr. Gamble has just gone out,” she stated, and smiled again.  She was not at all pretty when she smiled—­not by any means—­neat, though.

“Could you tell me where I would be likely to find Mr. Loring?” asked Constance stiffly.

“Haven’t the slightest idea,” answered the girl happily, and gave her hair a touch.  Ah! there was a rip under her sleeve!

“Do you know where Mr. Gamble has gone?” and Constance was suddenly pleasant through and through.

“Mr. Gamble?” repeated the girl, wondering at the sudden sweetness and suspicious of it.  “Oh, Mr. Gamble has gone over to the office of Mallard back in a few minutes.  He’s in and out a great deal, but he seldom stays out of the office long at a time.”

“Thank you,” said Constance hastily, reflecting that there was a public telephone booth in the drug store on the corner, so she need not inquire the address of Mallard & Tyne.

Mr. Gamble, Mr. Courtney, and Mr. Washer were in Mr. Mallard’s private office, with that acutely earnest real estate gentleman, when a boy came in to advise Mr. Gamble that he was wanted on the telephone.  Johnny Gamble had never heard the voice of Constance over a thin wire, but he recognized it in an instant; and he hitched his chair six inches closer to the instrument.  He gave her a fool greeting, which he tried to remember afterward so that he could be confused about it; but Constance wasted no time in preliminaries.

“Have you any property which could be attached?” she wanted to know.

“Just at the present minute I have,” he admitted.  “I shall have a nominal title in a big building plot, for a day or two—­or until the necessary papers can he signed.”

“You mustn’t wait!” she hastily ordered him.  “You must get rid of it right this minute.”

“I’ll burn it up if you don’t like it,” he heartily promised her.  “What’s the matter with it?”

“It isn’t safe for you to have it an instant.  I’ve wasted so much time trying to find Polly or Loring, so that they could warn you, that I haven’t time to explain.  Just get rid of it immediately—­ can’t you?”

“I can do anything you say,” he earnestly informed her, hitching his chair closer.  There was only an inch left, but he took that.  “You’ll explain to me to-night what all this is about, won’t you?”

“You may come, but you mustn’t ask questions.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I’m through here,” he promptly informed her.

“Not so early,” she protested, panic-stricken, “I have a caller just now.  You must hurry, Mr. Gamble.”

“Yes, I will,” and he tried to hitch his chair closer.  “You’re telephoning from the house, then?”