"Close here--too warm. Back in a minute."

Her feet feeling as if they were made of lead, she ran for a taxi, tumbled in and gave a frantic order. As the taxi started Betty glanced at her wrist watch. Seven minutes past eight!

* * * * *

So far as she could see, the house was dark when she reached home. Telling the driver to wait, Betty hurried up the walk and let herself in the front door. Punching on the lights, she ran up the stairs to her room. One look--and she flew to the phone.

"Harry!" she gasped when the connection had been made. "There's been a terrible mistake! I--"

"You better not talk over the phone!" cautioned Detective Milholland. "That man hasn't got here yet. I'm to meet him at the east end of Ellington Street bridge. You better hurry over there. I'll wait there."

Betty slammed up the receiver. As fast as her high heels could carry her, she tumbled down the stairs and out to the waiting taxi.

Two shadowy figures were standing on the sidewalk some fifteen feet from the end of the bridge when Betty slipped out of her taxi. As she hurried toward the men she caught a glimpse of the broad, slow-moving river, and the lights of the city beyond.

"So it's phony, eh?" one of the men shouted angrily. "Had me risk my life for a bunch o' bum rocks, did yuh? Well--"

The rest, Betty did not hear. Horrified, she saw the speaker spring back and raise his arm. His hand shot out. High over the bridge rail flew something that seemed alive with sparkling flame.

Fleeing steps pounding on the walk--a blur of voices--strong arms that caught her quickly--those were the last things Betty remembered.

* * * * *

"Never dreamed you'd faint!" exclaimed Chester Danford when she had regained her senses. "Harry and I were sure that a girl who had the nerve to buck the gaming tables like you did could stand a little rough play. Have another nip o' this Scotch!"

"No," said Betty firmly, pushing the glass away. "I--I want to think. I came to in the taxi, recognized your voice, and got suspicious. I could have walked into the house--but it was nicer to be carried." Betty looked up at Detective Milholland. "So you--er--squealed, eh?"

"I did, Betty," Milholland admitted, accepting the glass Danford offered. "I had to play square with your husband. You know, two wrongs never make one right. So Chester and I framed it up to have one of my own men slip into the house and get the phony necklace. Knowing, of course, that you would phone me, I waited for the call, then hurried to meet you. There, on the bridge, we went through the little play suggested by Chester--and threw the paste necklace into the river!"

"Uh, huh." Betty's blue eyes were thoughtful. "Then, Chester, that story you gave me about Uncle Abe spilling the beans was all a fake?"

"All except that I did redeem your necklace, hon. It was the real one that I showed you to-night at the table. Gosh, you looked so sick I felt sorry for you. If you hadn't got out so quick I'd have given in and told you the truth. Well, it's over now; here--" Danford took out the diamond necklace, but Betty waved it away.

"You keep it awhile," she said, rising. "I'm not going to wear it until--until I feel that I deserve it. As for you, Harry Milholland, I'm just going to murder you the first day I have time. Moreover, you remember that this afternoon I was so grateful to you that I blew you a kiss? Well, I want it back!"

Before the astonished detective could move to prevent her, Betty kissed him smack on the lips. Then she slipped into her husband's arms.

THE END.