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 by the buildings, remained mantled with white; so the boulevard was streaked with black, bare ruts in which chain-girt wheels clinked upon films of ice congealed by the evening chill.

In five columns north, in five south, sped sedans, limousines with liveried chauffeurs, sport-cars with open sides and racoon-coated youths and girls, town-cars carefully enclosed, taxis, yellow, brown, black, white, blue, taxis crowded and taxis with curtains drawn, touring-cars and busses. Amazing to any one, the midnight current upon this street, most amazing to one who thought how it had been a strip of sandy scrub a single century ago.

Suddenly an orange light glows above the red which blocks the cross street; orange tops the green upon the posts which halve the tumult on the boulevard; the orange is gone; red gleams, and it is as if a mighty hand halts and holds still every car which, at the instant before, moved; for upon all the miles of the boulevard motion has been forbidden and every vehicle obeys; a miracle of authority has been achieved.

The spectacle of it subtly thrilled Calvin as his taxi crossed before the ranks of waiting cars. A display of order always pleased him; but this was mere mechanical order, he considered, as he was driven on; this was chiefly a triumph of engineering, a surface show of discipline. His mind returned to Ketlar and Considine and Three-G. George Baretta and to the Royle girl, taken by a newspaper reporter, to Tut's Temple, where Baretta would be found to-night—Baretta, who had directed the killing of Considine and was "known" to be the murderer of many others, but who flaunted his presence to-night at Tut's Temple because no man nor woman dared to accuse him openly in this city which halted ten thousand cars by the mere change in color of a traffic light.