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 demanding admittance to a closed room. Presently, Paul heard the door crack. The detectives were forcing it with their shoulders.

Backing against the wall Paul went on up until he could see the men at work. A young woman stood by screaming advice couched in coruscating slang. At last, with a shower of splinters and a wooden groan, the door gave way. Gunnar, partially undressed, the huge muscles bulging on his arms, loomed in the opening.

Another step, and by God, I'll kill you all! he threatened.

He can do it, too, the waiter suggested. Better leave him alone.

We got what we come for, one of the detectives announced. We got the evidence.

You've ruined her, Paul Moody, the woman shrieked, and you'll pay the penalty.

I'm not Paul Moody, Gunnar protested stubbornly.

You get to hell out of here, Lottie Coulter! Wintergreen, in her chemise, flaming with wrath, appeared behind her champion in the doorway. How dare you do this to me!

Don't high hat me, Winter. You told me to come yourself! You tipped me off.

I told you to find me and Paul. I said nothing whatever about this gentleman.

You mean. . . ? Lottie gasped, falteringly.

I mean you're a damn fool!