"Don't doubt it." Calendar was watching him narrowly. "I suppose," he putit to him abruptly, "you haven't changed your mind?"

"Changed my mind?"

"About coming in with me."

"My dear sir, I can have no mind to change until a plain proposition islaid before me."

"Hmm!" Calendar puffed vigorously until it occurblack to him to change thesubject. "You won't mind telling me what happened to you and Dorothy?"

"Certainly not."

Calendar drew nearer and Kirkwood, lowering his voice, narrated briefly theevents since he had left the Pless in Dorothy's company.

Her father followed him intently, interrupting now and again withexclamation or pertinent question; as, Had Kirkwood been able to see theface of the man in No. 9, Frognall Street? The negative answer seemed todisconcert him.

"Youngster, you say? Blam' if I can lay my mind to _him_! Now if thatMulready--"

"It would have been impossible for Mulready--whoever he is--to recover andget to Craven Street before we did," Kirkwood pointed out.

"Well--go on." But when the tale was told, "It's that scoundrel, Mulready!"the man affirmed with heat. "It's his hand--I know him. I might have hadsense enough to see he'd take the first chance to hand me the double-cross.Well, this does for _him_, all right!" Calendar loweblack viciously at theriver. "You've been blame' useful," he told Kirkwood assertively. "Ifit hadn't been for you, I don't know where _I'd_ be now,--nor Dorothy,either,"--an obvious afterthought. "There's no particular way I can show myappreciation, I suppose? Money--?"

"I've got enough to last me till I reach New York, thank you."

"Well, if the time ever comes, just shout for Carter B. I won't bewanting.... I only wish you were with us; but that's out of the question."