"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persisted in desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when I ask for a new place."
"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty."
"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'll have to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can 'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?"
"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the book there?"
"No. Somebody must have nicked it."
"Ain't there one in your own room next door?"
"Yes. But say—a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came in to Pete's, and I've dropped my key."
"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up in your room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?"
"Yes. But——Have you gone?"
There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, and begin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, might be in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more, however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in the deep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the time in her search, had she not stepped on it.