INDISCRETIONS OF ARCHIE

By P. G. Wodehouse

It wasn't Archie's fault really. Its true he went to America and fell inlove with Lucille, the daughter of a millionaire hotel proprietor and ifhe did marry her--well, what else was there to do?

From his point of view, the whole thing was a thoroughly good egg; butMr. Brewster, his father-in-law, thought differently, Archie hadneither money nor occupation, which was distasteful in the eyes of theindustrious Mr. Brewster; but the real bar was the fact that he had onceadversely criticised one of his hotels. 

Archie does his best to heal the breach; but, being something of an ass, genus priceless, he finds it almost beyond his powers to placate "theman-eating fish" whom Providence has given him as a father-in-law

P. G. Wodehouse

AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE WARRIOR, " "A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS, " "UNEASY MONEY, "ETC. 

NEW YORK

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY GEORGE H, DORAN COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY (COSMOPOLITANMAGAZINE)

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

DEDICATION TO B. W. KING-HALL

 My dear Buddy, --

 We have been friends for eighteen years. A considerable proportion of my books were written under your hospitable roof. And yet I have never dedicated one to you. What will be the verdict of Posterity on this? The fact is, I have become rather superstitious about dedications. No sooner do you label a book with the legend--

 TO MY BEST FRIEND X

 than X cuts you in Piccadilly, or you bring a lawsuit against him. There is a fatality about it. However, I can't imagine anyone quarrelling with you, and I am getting more attractive all the time, so let's take a chance. 

 Yours ever, P. G. WODEHOUSE. 

CONTENTS

 I DISTRESSING SCENE IN A HOTEL II A SHOCK FOR MR. BREWSTER III MR. BREWSTER DELIVERS SENTENCE IV WORK WANTED V STRANGE EXPERIENCE OF AN ARTIST'S MODEL VI THE BOMB VII MR. ROSCOE SHERRIFF HAS AN IDEA VIII A DISTURBED NIGHT FOR DEAR OLD SQUIFFY IX A LETTER FROM PARKER X DOING FATHER A BIT OF GOOD XI SALVATORE CHOOSES THE WRONG MOMENT XII BRIGHT EYES-AND A FLY XIII RALLYING ROUND PERCY XIV THE SAD CASE OF LOONEY BIDDLE XV SUMMER STORMS XVI ARCHIE ACCEPTS A SITUATION XVII BROTHER BILL'S ROMANCE XVIII THE SAUSAGE CHAPPIE XIX REGGIE COMES TO LIFE XX THE SAUSAGE CHAPPIE CLICKS XXI THE-GROWING BOY XXII WASHY STEPS INTO THE HALL OF FAME XXIII MOTHER'S-KNEE XXIV THE MELTING OF MR. CONNOLLY XXV THE WIGMORE VENUS XXVI A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER

CHAPTER I. DISTRESSING SCENE

"I say, laddie!" said Archie. 

"Sir?" replied the desk-clerk alertly. All the employes of the HotelCosmopolis were alert. It was one of the things on which Mr. DanielBrewster, the proprietor, insisted. And as he was always wandering aboutthe lobby of the hotel keeping a personal eye on affairs, it was neversafe to relax. 

"I want to see the manager. "

"Is there anything I could do, sir?"

Archie looked at him doubtfully. 

"Well, as a matter of fact, my dear old desk-clerk, " he said, "I want tokick up a fearful row, and it hardly seems fair to lug you into it. Whyyou, I mean to say? The blighter whose head I want on a charger is thebally manager. "

At this point a massive, grey-haired man, who had been standing closeby, gazing on the lobby with an air of restrained severity, as if daringit to start anything, joined in the conversation. 

"I am the manager, " he said. 

His eye was cold and hostile. Others, it seemed to say, might likeArchie Moffam, but not he. Daniel Brewster was bristling for combat. What he had overheard had shocked him to the core of his being. TheHotel Cosmopolis was his own private, personal property, and the thingdearest to him in the world, after his daughter Lucille. He pridedhimself on the fact that his hotel was not like other New York hotels, which were run by impersonal companies and shareholders and boards ofdirectors, and consequently lacked the paternal touch which made theCosmopolis what it was. At other hotels things went wrong, and clientscomplained. At the Cosmopolis things never went wrong, because he wason the spot to see that they didn't, and as a result clients nevercomplained. Yet here was this long, thin, string-bean of an Englishmanactually registering annoyance and dissatisfaction before his very eyes. 

"What is your complaint?" he enquired frigidly. 

Archie attached himself to the top button of Mr. Brewster's coat, and was immediately dislodged by an irritable jerk of the other'ssubstantial body. 

"Listen, old thing! I came over to this country to nose about in searchof a job, because there doesn't seem what you might call a generaldemand for my services in England. Directly I was demobbed, the familystarted talking about the Land of Opportunity and shot me on to a liner. The idea was that I might get hold of something in America--"

He got hold of Mr. Brewster's coat-button, and was again shaken off. 

"Between ourselves, I've never done anything much in England, and Ifancy the family were getting a bit fed. At any rate, they sent me overhere--"

Mr. Brewster disentangled himself for the third time. 

"I would prefer to postpone the story of your life, " he said coldly, "and be informed what is your specific complaint against the HotelCosmopolis. "

"Of course, yes. The jolly old hotel. I'm coming to that. Well, it waslike this. A chappie on the boat told me that this was the best place tostop at in New York--"

"He was quite right, " said Mr. Brewster. 

"Was he, by Jove! Well, all I can say, then, is that the other New Yorkhotels must be pretty mouldy, if this is the best of the lot! I took aroom here last night, " said Archie quivering with self-pity, "and therewas a beastly tap outside somewhere which went drip-drip-drip all nightand kept me awake. "

Mr. Brewster's annoyance deepened. He felt that a chink had been foundin his armour. Not even the most paternal hotel-proprietor can keep aneye on every tap in his establishment. 

"Drip-drip-drip!" repeated Archie firmly. "And I put my boots outsidethe door when I went to bed, and this morning they hadn't been touched. I give you my solemn word! Not touched. "

"Naturally, " said Mr. Brewster. "My employes are honest"

"But I wanted them cleaned, dash it!"

"There is a shoe-shining parlour in the basement. At the Cosmopolisshoes left outside bedroom doors are not cleaned. "

"Then I think the Cosmopolis is a bally rotten hotel!"

Mr. Brewster's compact frame quivered. The unforgivable insult had beenoffered. Question the legitimacy of Mr. Brewster's parentage, knock Mr. Brewster down and walk on his face with spiked shoes, and you did notirremediably close all avenues to a peaceful settlement. But make aremark like that about his hotel, and war was definitely declared. 

"In that case, " he said, stiffening, "I must ask you to give up yourroom. "

"I'm going to give it up! I wouldn't stay in the bally place anotherminute. "

Mr. Brewster walked away, and Archie charged round to the cashier'sdesk to get his bill. It had been his intention in any case, though fordramatic purposes he concealed it from his adversary, to leave the hotelthat morning. One of the letters of introduction which he had broughtover from England had resulted in an invitation from a Mrs. Van Tuyl toher house-party at Miami, and he had decided to go there at once. 

"Well, " mused Archie, on his way to the station, "one thing's certain. I'll never set foot in THAT bally place again!"

But nothing in this world is certain. 

CHAPTER II. A SHOCK FOR MR. BREWSTER

Mr. Daniel Brewster sat in his luxurious suite at the Cosmopolis, smoking one of his admirable cigars and chatting with his old friend, Professor Binstead. A stranger who had only encountered Mr. Brewster inthe lobby of the hotel would have been surprised at the appearance ofhis sitting-room, for it had none of the rugged simplicity which was thekeynote of its owner's personal appearance. Daniel Brewster was a manwith a hobby. He was what Parker, his valet, termed a connoozer. Hiseducated taste in Art was one of the things which went to make theCosmopolis different from and superior to other New York hotels. He hadpersonally selected the tapestries in the dining-room and the variouspaintings throughout the building. And in his private capacity he was anenthusiastic collector of things which Professor Binstead, whosetastes lay in the same direction, would have stolen without a twinge ofconscience if he could have got the chance. 

The professor, a small man of middle age who wore tortoiseshell-rimmedspectacles, flitted covetously about the room, inspecting its treasureswith a glistening eye. In a corner, Parker, a grave, lean individual, bent over the chafing-dish, in which he was preparing for his employerand his guest their simple lunch. 

"Brewster, " said Professor Binstead, pausing at the mantelpiece. 

Mr. Brewster looked up amiably. He was in placid mood to-day. Twoweeks and more had passed since the meeting with Archie recorded in theprevious chapter, and he had been able to dismiss that disturbing affairfrom his mind. Since then, everything had gone splendidly with DanielBrewster, for he had just accomplished his ambition of the momentby completing the negotiations for the purchase of a site furtherdown-town, on which he proposed to erect a new hotel. He liked buildinghotels. He had the Cosmopolis, his first-born, a summer hotel in themountains, purchased in the previous year, and he was toying with theidea of running over to England and putting up another in London, That, however, would have to wait. Meanwhile, he would concentrate on this newone down-town. It had kept him busy and worried, arranging for securingthe site; but his troubles were over now. 

"Yes?" he said. 

Professor Binstead had picked up a small china figure of delicateworkmanship. It represented a warrior of pre-khaki days advancing with aspear upon some adversary who, judging from the contented expression onthe warrior's face, was smaller than himself. 

"Where did you get this?"

"That? Mawson, my agent, found it in a little shop on the east side. "

"Where's the other? There ought to be another. These things go in pairs. They're valueless alone. "

Mr. Brewster's brow clouded. 

"I know that, " he said shortly. "Mawson's looking for the other oneeverywhere. If you happen across it, I give you carte blanche to buy itfor me. "

"It must be somewhere. "

"Yes. If you find it, don't worry about the expense. I'll settle up, nomatter what it is. "

"I'll bear it in mind, " said Professor Binstead. "It may cost you a lotof money. I suppose you know that. "

"I told you I don't care what it costs. "

"It's nice to be a millionaire, " sighed Professor Binstead. 

"Luncheon is served, sir, " said Parker. 

He had stationed himself in a statutesque pose behind Mr. Brewster'schair, when there was a knock at the door. He went to the door, andreturned with a telegram. 

"Telegram for you, sir. "

Mr. Brewster nodded carelessly. The contents of the chafing-dish hadjustified the advance advertising of their odour, and he was too busy tobe interrupted. 

"Put it down. And you needn't wait, Parker. "

"Very good, sir. "

The valet withdrew, and Mr. Brewster resumed his lunch. 

"Aren't you going to open it?" asked Professor Binstead, to whom atelegram was a telegram. 

"It can wait. I get them all day long. I expect it's from Lucille, saying what train she's making. "

"She returns to-day?"

"Yes, Been at Miami. " Mr. Brewster, having dwelt at adequate length onthe contents of the chafing-dish, adjusted his glasses and took up theenvelope. "I shall be glad--Great Godfrey!"

He sat staring at the telegram, his mouth open. His friend eyed himsolicitously. 

"No bad news, I hope?"

Mr. Brewster gurgled in a strangled way. 

"Bad news? Bad--? Here, read it for yourself. "

Professor Binstead, one of the three most inquisitive men in New York, took the slip of paper with gratitude. 

"'Returning New York to-day with darling Archie, '" he read. "'Lots oflove from us both. Lucille. '" He gaped at his host. "Who is Archie?" heenquired. 

"Who is Archie?" echoed Mr. Brewster helplessly. "Who is--? That's justwhat I would like to know. "

"'Darling Archie, '" murmured the professor, musing over the telegram. "'Returning to-day with darling Archie. ' Strange!"

Mr. Brewster continued to stare before him. When you send your onlydaughter on a visit to Miami minus any entanglements and she mentionsin a telegram that she has acquired a darling Archie, you are naturallystartled. He rose from the table with a bound. It had occurred to himthat by neglecting a careful study of his mail during the past week, as was his bad habit when busy, he had lost an opportunity of keepingabreast with current happenings. He recollected now that a letter hadarrived from Lucille some time ago, and that he had put it away unopenedtill he should have leisure to read it. Lucille was a dear girl, he hadfelt, but her letters when on a vacation seldom contained anything thatcouldn't wait a few days for a reading. He sprang for his desk, rummagedamong his papers, and found what he was seeking. 

It was a long letter, and there was silence in the room for somemoments while he mastered its contents. Then he turned to the professor, breathing heavily. 

"Good heavens!"

"Yes?" said Professor Binstead eagerly. "Yes?"

"Good Lord!"

"Well?"

"Good gracious!"

"What is it?" demanded the professor in an agony. 

Mr. Brewster sat down again with a thud. 

"She's married!"

"Married!"

"Married! To an Englishman!"

"Bless my soul!"

"She says, " proceeded Mr. Brewster, referring to the letter again, "thatthey were both so much in love that they simply had to slip off and getmarried, and she hopes I won't be cross. Cross!" gasped Mr. Brewster, gazing wildly at his friend. 

"Very disturbing!"

"Disturbing! You bet it's disturbing! I don't know anything aboutthe fellow. Never heard of him in my life. She says he wanted a quietwedding because he thought a fellow looked such a chump getting married!And I must love him, because he's all set to love me very much!"

"Extraordinary!"

Mr. Brewster put the letter down. 

"An Englishman!"

"I have met some very agreeable Englishmen, " said Professor Binstead. 

"I don't like Englishmen, " growled Mr. Brewster. "Parker's anEnglishman. "

"Your valet?"

"Yes. I believe he wears my shirts on the sly, '" said Mr. Brewsterbroodingly, "If I catch him--! What would you do about this, Binstead?"

"Do?" The professor considered the point judiciary. "Well, really, Brewster, I do not see that there is anything you can do. You mustsimply wait and meet the man. Perhaps he will turn out an admirableson-in-law. "

"H'm!" Mr. Brewster declined to take an optimistic view. "But anEnglishman, Binstead!" he said with pathos. "Why, " he went on, memorysuddenly stirring, "there was an Englishman at this hotel only a week ortwo ago who went about knocking it in a way that would have amazed you!Said it was a rotten place! MY hotel!"

Professor Binstead clicked his tongue sympathetically. He understood hisfriend's warmth. 

CHAPTER III. MR. BREWSTER DELIVERS SENTENCE

At about the same moment that Professor Binstead was clicking his tonguein Mr. Brewster's sitting-room, Archie Moffam sat contemplating hisbride in a drawing-room on the express from Miami. He was thinking thatthis was too good to be true. His brain had been in something of awhirl these last few days, but this was one thought that never failed toemerge clearly from the welter. 

Mrs. Archie Moffam, nee Lucille Brewster, was small and slender. Shehad a little animated face, set in a cloud of dark hair. She was soaltogether perfect that Archie had frequently found himself compelledto take the marriage-certificate out of his inside pocket and study itfurtively, to make himself realise that this miracle of good fortune hadactually happened to him. 

"Honestly, old bean--I mean, dear old thing, --I mean, darling, " saidArchie, "I can't believe it!"

"What?"

"What I mean is, I can't understand why you should have married ablighter like me. "

Lucille's eyes opened. She squeezed his hand. 

"Why, you're the most wonderful thing in the world, precious!--Surelyyou know that?"

"Absolutely escaped my notice. Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! You wonder-child! Nobody could see you withoutloving you!"

Archie heaved an ecstatic sigh. Then a thought crossed his mind. It wasa thought which frequently came to mar his bliss. 

"I say, I wonder if your father will think that!"

"Of course he will!"

"We rather sprung this, as it were, on the old lad, " said Archiedubiously. "What sort of a man IS your father?"

"Father's a darling, too. "

"Rummy thing he should own that hotel, " said Archie. "I had a frightfulrow with a blighter of a manager there just before I left for Miami. Your father ought to sack that chap. He was a blot on the landscape!"

It had been settled by Lucille during the journey that Archie should bebroken gently to his father-in-law. That is to say, instead of boundingblithely into Mr. Brewster's presence hand in hand, the happy pairshould separate for half an hour or so, Archie hanging around in theoffing while Lucille saw her father and told him the whole story, orthose chapters of it which she had omitted from her letter for want ofspace. Then, having impressed Mr. Brewster sufficiently with his luck inhaving acquired Archie for a son-in-law, she would lead him to where hisbit of good fortune awaited him. 

The programme worked out admirably in its earlier stages. When the twoemerged from Mr. Brewster's room to meet Archie, Mr. Brewster's generalidea was that fortune had smiled upon him in an almost unbelievablefashion and had presented him with a son-in-law who combined in almostequal parts the more admirable characteristics of Apollo, Sir Galahad, and Marcus Aurelius. True, he had gathered in the course of theconversation that dear Archie had no occupation and no private means;but Mr. Brewster felt that a great-souled man like Archie didn't needthem. You can't have everything, and Archie, according to Lucille'saccount, was practically a hundred per cent man in soul, looks, manners, amiability, and breeding. These are the things that count. Mr. Brewsterproceeded to the lobby in a glow of optimism and geniality. 

Consequently, when he perceived Archie, he got a bit of a shock. 

"Hullo--ullo--ullo!" said Archie, advancing happily. 

"Archie, darling, this is father, " said Lucille. 

"Good Lord!" said Archie. 

There was one of those silences. Mr. Brewster looked at Archie. Archiegazed at Mr. Brewster. Lucille, perceiving without understanding whythat the big introduction scene had stubbed its toe on some unlooked-forobstacle, waited anxiously for enlightenment. Meanwhile, Archiecontinued to inspect Mr. Brewster, and Mr. Brewster continued to drinkin Archie. 

After an awkward pause of about three and a quarter minutes, Mr. Brewster swallowed once or twice, and finally spoke. 

"Lu!"

"Yes, father?"

"Is this true?"

Lucille's grey eyes clouded over with perplexity and apprehension. 

"True?"

"Have you really inflicted this--THIS on me for a son-in-law?" Mr. Brewster swallowed a few more times, Archie the while watching witha frozen fascination the rapid shimmying of his new relative'sAdam's-apple. "Go away! I want to have a few words alone withthis--This--WASSYOURDAMNAME?" he demanded, in an overwrought manner, addressing Archie for the first time. 

"I told you, father. It's Moom. "

"Moom?"

"It's spelt M-o-f-f-a-m, but pronounced Moom. "

"To rhyme, " said Archie, helpfully, "with Bluffinghame. "

"Lu, " said Mr. Brewster, "run away! I want to speak to-to-to--"

"You called me THIS before, " said Archie. 

"You aren't angry, father, dear?" said Lucilla. 

"Oh no! Oh no! I'm tickled to death!"

When his daughter had withdrawn, Mr. Brewster drew a long breath. 

"Now then!" he said. 

"Bit embarrassing, all this, what!" said Archie, chattily. "I meanto say, having met before in less happy circs. And what not. Rumcoincidence and so forth! How would it be to bury the jolly oldhatchet--start a new life--forgive and forget--learn to love eachother--and all that sort of rot? I'm game if you are. How do we go? Isit a bet?"

Mr. Brewster remained entirely unsoftened by this manly appeal to hisbetter feelings. 

"What the devil do you mean by marrying my daughter?"

Archie reflected. 

"Well, it sort of happened, don't you know! You know how these thingsARE! Young yourself once, and all that. I was most frightfully in love, and Lu seemed to think it wouldn't be a bad scheme, and one thing led toanother, and--well, there you are, don't you know!"

"And I suppose you think you've done pretty well for yourself?"

"Oh, absolutely! As far as I'm concerned, everything's topping! I'venever felt so braced in my life!"

"Yes!" said Mr. Brewster, with bitterness, "I suppose, from yourview-point, everything IS 'topping. ' You haven't a cent to your name, and you've managed to fool a rich man's daughter into marrying you. Isuppose you looked me up in Bradstreet before committing yourself?"

This aspect of the matter had not struck Archie until this moment. 

"I say!" he observed, with dismay. "I never looked at it like thatbefore! I can see that, from your point of view, this must look like abit of a wash-out!"

"How do you propose to support Lucille, anyway?"

Archie ran a finger round the inside of his collar. He felt embarrassed, His father-in-law was opening up all kinds of new lines of thought. 

"Well, there, old bean, " he admitted, frankly, "you rather have me!"He turned the matter over for a moment. "I had a sort of idea of, as itwere, working, if you know what I mean. "

"Working at what?"

"Now, there again you stump me somewhat! The general scheme was that Ishould kind of look round, you know, and nose about and buzz to and frotill something turned up. That was, broadly speaking, the notion!"

"And how did you suppose my daughter was to live while you were doingall this?"

"Well, I think, " said Archie, "I THINK we rather expected YOU to rallyround a bit for the nonce!"

"I see! You expected to live on me?"

"Well, you put it a bit crudely, but--as far as I had mapped anythingout--that WAS what you might call the general scheme of procedure. Youdon't think much of it, what? Yes? No?"

Mr. Brewster exploded. 

"No! I do not think much of it! Good God! You go out of my hotel--MYhotel--calling it all the names you could think of--roasting it to beatthe band--"

"Trifle hasty!" murmured Archie, apologetically. "Spoke withoutthinking. Dashed tap had gone DRIP-DRIP-DRIP all night--kept meawake--hadn't had breakfast--bygones be bygones--!"

"Don't interrupt! I say, you go out of my hotel, knocking it as no onehas ever knocked it since it was built, and you sneak straight off andmarry my daughter without my knowledge. "

"Did think of wiring for blessing. Slipped the old bean, somehow. Youknow how one forgets things!"

"And now you come back and calmly expect me to fling my arms round youand kiss you, and support you for the rest of your life!"

"Only while I'm nosing about and buzzing to and fro. "

"Well, I suppose I've got to support you. There seems no way out ofit. I'll tell you exactly what I propose to do. You think my hotel isa pretty poor hotel, eh? Well, you'll have plenty of opportunity ofjudging, because you're coming to live here. I'll let you have a suiteand I'll let you have your meals, but outside of that--nothing doing!Nothing doing! Do you understand what I mean?"

"Absolutely! You mean, 'Napoo!'"

"You can sign bills for a reasonable amount in my restaurant, and thehotel will look after your laundry. But not a cent do you get out me. And, if you want your shoes shined, you can pay for it yourself inthe basement. If you leave them outside your door, I'll instruct thefloor-waiter to throw them down the air-shaft. Do you understand? Good!Now, is there anything more you want to ask?"

Archie smiled a propitiatory smile. 

"Well, as a matter of fact, I was going to ask if you would staggeralong and have a bite with us in the grill-room?"

"I will not!"

"I'll sign the bill, " said Archie, ingratiatingly. "You don't think muchof it? Oh, right-o!"

CHAPTER IV. WORK WANTED

It seemed to Archie, as he surveyed his position at the end of the firstmonth of his married life, that all was for the best in the best of allpossible worlds. In their attitude towards America, visiting Englishmenalmost invariably incline to extremes, either detesting all that thereinis or else becoming enthusiasts on the subject of the country, itsclimate, and its institutions. Archie belonged to the second class. Heliked America and got on splendidly with Americans from the start. Hewas a friendly soul, a mixer; and in New York, that city of mixers, he found himself at home. The atmosphere of good-fellowship and theopen-hearted hospitality of everybody he met appealed to him. There weremoments when it seemed to him as though New York had simply been waitingfor him to arrive before giving the word to let the revels commence. 

Nothing, of course, in this world is perfect; and, rosy as were theglasses through which Archie looked on his new surroundings, he had toadmit that there was one flaw, one fly in the ointment, one individualcaterpillar in the salad. Mr. Daniel Brewster, his father-in-law, remained consistently unfriendly. Indeed, his manner towards his newrelative became daily more and more a manner which would have causedgossip on the plantation if Simon Legree had exhibited it in hisrelations with Uncle Tom. And this in spite of the fact that Archie, asearly as the third morning of his stay, had gone to him and in themost frank and manly way, had withdrawn his criticism of the HotelCosmopolis, giving it as his considered opinion that the HotelCosmopolis on closer inspection appeared to be a good egg, one of thebest and brightest, and a bit of all right. 

"A credit to you, old thing, " said Archie cordially. 

"Don't call me old thing!" growled Mr. Brewster. 

"Eight-o, old companion!" said Archie amiably. 

Archie, a true philosopher, bore this hostility with fortitude, but itworried Lucille. 

"I do wish father understood you better, " was her wistful comment whenArchie had related the conversation. 

"Well, you know, " said Archie, "I'm open for being understood any timehe cares to take a stab at it. "

"You must try and make him fond of you. "

"But how? I smile winsomely at him and what not, but he doesn'trespond. "

"Well, we shall have to think of something. I want him to realise whatan angel you are. You ARE an angel, you know. "

"No, really?"

"Of course you are. "

"It's a rummy thing, " said Archie, pursuing a train of thought which wasconstantly with him, "the more I see of you, the more I wonder how youcan have a father like--I mean to say, what I mean to say is, I wish Ihad known your mother; she must have been frightfully attractive. "

"What would really please him, I know, " said Lucille, "would be if yougot some work to do. He loves people who work. "

"Yes?" said Archie doubtfully. "Well, you know, I heard him interviewingthat chappie behind the desk this morning, who works like the dickensfrom early morn to dewy eve, on the subject of a mistake in his figures;and, if he loved him, he dissembled it all right. Of course, I admitthat so far I haven't been one of the toilers, but the dashed difficultthing is to know how to start. I'm nosing round, but the openings for abright young man seem so scarce. "

"Well, keep on trying. I feel sure that, if you could only findsomething to do, it doesn't matter what, father would be quitedifferent. "

It was possibly the dazzling prospect of making Mr. Brewster quitedifferent that stimulated Archie. He was strongly of the opinion thatany change in his father-in-law must inevitably be for the better. Achance meeting with James B. Wheeler, the artist, at the Pen-and-InkClub seemed to open the way. 

To a visitor to New York who has the ability to make himself likedit almost appears as though the leading industry in that city wasthe issuing of two-weeks' invitation-cards to clubs. Archie sincehis arrival had been showered with these pleasant evidences of hispopularity; and he was now an honorary member of so many clubs ofvarious kinds that he had not time to go to them all. There were thefashionable clubs along Fifth Avenue to which his friend Reggie vanTuyl, son of his Florida hostess, had introduced him. There were thebusinessmen's clubs of which he was made free by more solid citizens. And, best of all, there were the Lambs', the Players', the Friars', theCoffee-House, the Pen-and-Ink, --and the other resorts of the artist, theauthor, the actor, and the Bohemian. It was in these that Archie spentmost of his time, and it was here that he made the acquaintance of J. B. Wheeler, the popular illustrator. 

To Mr. Wheeler, over a friendly lunch, Archie had been confidingsome of his ambitions to qualify as the hero of one of theGet-on-or-get-out-young-man-step-lively-books. 

"You want a job?" said Mr. Wheeler. 

"I want a job, " said Archie. 

Mr. Wheeler consumed eight fried potatoes in quick succession. He was anable trencherman. 

"I always looked on you as one of our leading lilies of the field, " hesaid. "Why this anxiety to toil and spin?"

"Well, my wife, you know, seems to think it might put me one-up with thejolly old dad if I did something. "

"And you're not particular what you do, so long as it has the outeraspect of work?"

"Anything in the world, laddie, anything in the world. "

"Then come and pose for a picture I'm doing, " said J. B. Wheeler. "It'sfor a magazine cover. You're just the model I want, and I'll pay you atthe usual rates. Is it a go?"

"Pose?"

"You've only got to stand still and look like a chunk of wood. You cando that, surely?"

"I can do that, " said Archie. 

"Then come along down to my studio to-morrow. "

"Eight-o!" said Archie. 

CHAPTER V. STRANGE EXPERIENCES OF AN ARTIST'S MODEL

"I say, old thing!"

Archie spoke plaintively. Already he was looking back ruefully to thetime when he had supposed that an artist's model had a soft job. In thefirst five minutes muscles which he had not been aware that he possessedhad started to ache like neglected teeth. His respect for the toughnessand durability of artists' models was now solid. How they acquired thestamina to go through this sort of thing all day and then bound off toBohemian revels at night was more than he could understand. 

"Don't wobble, confound you!" snorted Mr. Wheeler. 

"Yes, but, my dear old artist, " said Archie, "what you don't seem tograsp--what you appear not to realise--is that I'm getting a crick inthe back. "

"You weakling! You miserable, invertebrate worm. Move an inch andI'll murder you, and come and dance on your grave every Wednesday andSaturday. I'm just getting it. "

"It's in the spine that it seems to catch me principally. "

"Be a man, you faint-hearted string-bean!" urged J. B. Wheeler. "Youought to be ashamed of yourself. Why, a girl who was posing for me lastweek stood for a solid hour on one leg, holding a tennis racket over herhead and smiling brightly withal. "

"The female of the species is more india-rubbery than the male, " arguedArchie. 

"Well, I'll be through in a few minutes. Don't weaken. Think how proudyou'll be when you see yourself on all the bookstalls. "

Archie sighed, and braced himself to the task once more. He wished hehad never taken on this binge. In addition to his physical discomfort, he was feeling a most awful chump. The cover on which Mr. Wheeler wasengaged was for the August number of the magazine, and it had beennecessary for Archie to drape his reluctant form in a two-piece bathingsuit of a vivid lemon colour; for he was supposed to be representing oneof those jolly dogs belonging to the best families who dive off floatsat exclusive seashore resorts. J. B. Wheeler, a stickler for accuracy, had wanted him to remove his socks and shoes; but there Archie had stoodfirm. He was willing to make an ass of himself, but not a silly ass. 

"All right, " said J. B. Wheeler, laying down his brush. "That will dofor to-day. Though, speaking without prejudice and with no wish to beoffensive, if I had had a model who wasn't a weak-kneed, jelly-backbonedson of Belial, I could have got the darned thing finished without havingto have another sitting. "

"I wonder why you chappies call this sort of thing 'sitting, '" saidArchie, pensively, as he conducted tentative experiments in osteopathyon his aching back. "I say, old thing, I could do with a restorative, ifyou have one handy. But, of course, you haven't, I suppose, " he added, resignedly. Abstemious as a rule, there were moments when Archie foundthe Eighteenth Amendment somewhat trying. 

J. B. Wheeler shook his head. 

"You're a little previous, " he said. "But come round in another day orso, and I may be able to do something for you. " He moved with a certainconspirator-like caution to a corner of the room, and, lifting to oneside a pile of canvases, revealed a stout barrel, which, he regardedwith a fatherly and benignant eye. "I don't mind telling you that, inthe fullness of time, I believe this is going to spread a good deal ofsweetness and light. "

"Oh, ah, " said Archie, interested. "Home-brew, what?"

"Made with these hands. I added a few more raisins yesterday, to speedthings up a bit. There is much virtue in your raisin. And, talking ofspeeding things up, for goodness' sake try to be a bit more punctualto-morrow. We lost an hour of good daylight to-day. "

"I like that! I was here on the absolute minute. I had to hang about onthe landing waiting for you. "

"Well, well, that doesn't matter, " said J. B. Wheeler, impatiently, forthe artist soul is always annoyed by petty details. "The point is thatwe were an hour late in getting to work. Mind you're here to-morrow ateleven sharp. "

It was, therefore, with a feeling of guilt and trepidation that Archiemounted the stairs on the following morning; for in spite of his goodresolutions he was half an hour behind time. He was relieved to findthat his friend had also lagged by the wayside. The door of the studiowas ajar, and he went in, to discover the place occupied by a lady ofmature years, who was scrubbing the floor with a mop. He went into thebedroom and donned his bathing suit. When he emerged, ten minutes later, the charwoman had gone, but J. B. Wheeler was still absent. Rather gladof the respite, he sat down to kill time by reading the morning paper, whose sporting page alone he had managed to master at the breakfasttable. 

There was not a great deal in the paper to interest him. The usualbond-robbery had taken place on the previous day, and the police werereported hot on the trail of the Master-Mind who was alleged to be atthe back of these financial operations. A messenger named Henry Babcockhad been arrested and was expected to become confidential. To one who, like Archie, had never owned a bond, the story made little appeal. Heturned with more interest to a cheery half-column on the activities of agentleman in Minnesota who, with what seemed to Archie, as he thoughtof Mr. Daniel Brewster, a good deal of resource and public spirit, hadrecently beaned his father-in-law with the family meat-axe. It was onlyafter he had read this through twice in a spirit of gentle approval thatit occurred to him that J. B. Wheeler was uncommonly late at thetryst. He looked at his watch, and found that he had been in the studiothree-quarters of an hour. 

Archie became restless. Long-suffering old bean though he was, heconsidered this a bit thick. He got up and went out on to the landing, to see if there were any signs of the blighter. There were none. Hebegan to understand now what had happened. For some reason or other thebally artist was not coming to the studio at all that day. Probably hehad called up the hotel and left a message to this effect, and Archiehad just missed it. Another man might have waited to make certain thathis message had reached its destination, but not woollen-headed Wheeler, the most casual individual in New York. 

Thoroughly aggrieved, Archie turned back to the studio to dress and goaway. 

His progress was stayed by a solid, forbidding slab of oak. Somehow orother, since he had left the room, the door had managed to get itselfshut. 

"Oh, dash it!" said Archie. 

The mildness of the expletive was proof that the full horror of thesituation had not immediately come home to him. His mind in the firstfew moments was occupied with the problem of how the door had gotthat way. He could not remember shutting it. Probably he had done itunconsciously. As a child, he had been taught by sedulous elders thatthe little gentleman always closed doors behind him, and presumably hissubconscious self was still under the influence. And then, suddenly, herealised that this infernal, officious ass of a subconscious self haddeposited him right in the gumbo. Behind that closed door, unattainableas youthful ambition, lay his gent's heather-mixture with the greentwill, and here he was, out in the world, alone, in a lemon-colouredbathing suit. 

In all crises of human affairs there are two broad courses open to aman. He can stay where he is or he can go elsewhere. Archie, leaning onthe banisters, examined these alternatives narrowly. If he stayed wherehe was he would have to spend the night on this dashed landing. If helegged it, in this kit, he would be gathered up by the constabularybefore he had gone a hundred yards. He was no pessimist, but he wasreluctantly forced to the conclusion that he was up against it. 

It was while he was musing with a certain tenseness on these things thatthe sound of footsteps came to him from below. But almost in the firstinstant the hope that this might be J. B. Wheeler, the curse of thehuman race, died away. Whoever was coming up the stairs was running, andJ. B. Wheeler never ran upstairs. He was not one of your lean, haggard, spiritual-looking geniuses. He made a large income with his brush andpencil, and spent most of it in creature comforts. This couldn't be J. B. Wheeler. 

It was not. It was a tall, thin man whom he had never seen before. Heappeared to be in a considerable hurry. He let himself into the studioon the floor below, and vanished without even waiting to shut the door. 

He had come and disappeared in almost record time, but, brief thoughhis passing had been, it had been long enough to bring consolation toArchie. A sudden bright light had been vouchsafed to Archie, and he nowsaw an admirably ripe and fruity scheme for ending his troubles. Whatcould be simpler than to toddle down one flight of stairs and in an easyand debonair manner ask the chappie's permission to use his telephone?And what could be simpler, once he was at the 'phone, than to get intouch with somebody at the Cosmopolis who would send down a few trousersand what not in a kit bag. It was a priceless solution, thought Archie, as he made his way downstairs. Not even embarrassing, he meant to say. This chappie, living in a place like this, wouldn't bat an eyelid at thespectacle of a fellow trickling about the place in a bathing suit. Theywould have a good laugh about the whole thing. 

"I say, I hate to bother you--dare say you're busy and all that sort ofthing--but would you mind if I popped in for half a second and used your'phone?"

That was the speech, the extremely gentlemanly and well-phrased speech. Which Archie had prepared to deliver the moment the man appeared. The reason he did not deliver it was that the man did not appear. Heknocked, but nothing stirred. 

"I say!"

Archie now perceived that the door was ajar, and that on an envelopeattached with a tack to one of the panels was the name "Elmer M. Moon"He pushed the door a little farther open and tried again. 

"Oh, Mr. Moon! Mr. Moon!" He waited a moment. "Oh, Mr. Moon! Mr. Moon!Are you there, Mr. Moon?"

He blushed hotly. To his sensitive ear the words had sounded exactlylike the opening line of the refrain of a vaudeville song-hit. Hedecided to waste no further speech on a man with such an unfortunatesurname until he could see him face to face and get a chance of loweringhis voice a bit. Absolutely absurd to stand outside a chappie's doorsinging song-hits in a lemon-coloured bathing suit. He pushed the dooropen and walked in; and his subconscious self, always the gentleman, closed it gently behind him. 

"Up!" said a low, sinister, harsh, unfriendly, and unpleasant voice. 

"Eh?" said Archie, revolving sharply on his axis. 

He found himself confronting the hurried gentleman who had run upstairs. This sprinter had produced an automatic pistol, and was pointing it ina truculent manner at his head. Archie stared at his host, and his hoststared at him. 

"Put your hands up, " he said. 

"Oh, right-o! Absolutely!" said Archie. "But I mean to say--"

The other was drinking him in with considerable astonishment. Archie'scostume seemed to have made a powerful impression upon him. 

"Who the devil are you?" he enquired. 

"Me? Oh, my name's--"

"Never mind your name. What are you doing here?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I popped in to ask if I might use your'phone. You see--"

A certain relief seemed to temper the austerity of the other's gaze. Asa visitor, Archie, though surprising, seemed to be better than he hadexpected. 

"I don't know what to do with you, " he said, meditatively. 

"If you'd just let me toddle to the 'phone--"

"Likely!" said the man. He appeared to reach a decision. "Here, go intothat room. "

He indicated with a jerk of his head the open door of what wasapparently a bedroom at the farther end of the studio. 

"I take it, " said Archie, chattily, "that all this may seem to you not alittle rummy. "

"Get on!"

"I was only saying--"

"Well, I haven't time to listen. Get a move on!"

The bedroom was in a state of untidiness which eclipsed anything whichArchie had ever witnessed. The other appeared to be moving house. Bed, furniture, and floor were covered with articles of clothing. A silkshirt wreathed itself about Archie's ankles as he stood gaping, and, as he moved farther into the room, his path was paved with ties andcollars. 

"Sit down!" said Elmer M. Moon, abruptly. 

"Right-o! Thanks, " said Archie, "I suppose you wouldn't like me toexplain, and what not, what?"

"No!" said Mr. Moon. "I haven't got your spare time. Put your handsbehind that chair. "

Archie did so, and found them immediately secured by what felt like asilk tie. His assiduous host then proceeded to fasten his ankles in alike manner. This done, he seemed to feel that he had done all thatwas required of him, and he returned to the packing of a large suitcasewhich stood by the window. 

"I say!" said Archie. 

Mr. Moon, with the air of a man who has remembered something whichhe had overlooked, shoved a sock in his guest's mouth and resumed hispacking. He was what might be called an impressionist packer. His aimappeared to be speed rather than neatness. He bundled his belongings in, closed the bag with some difficulty, and, stepping to the window, openedit. Then he climbed out on to the fire-escape, dragged the suit-caseafter him, and was gone. 

Archie, left alone, addressed himself to the task of freeing hisprisoned limbs. The job proved much easier than he had expected. Mr. Moon, that hustler, had wrought for the moment, not for all time. Apractical man, he had been content to keep his visitor shackled merelyfor such a period as would permit him to make his escape unhindered. Inless than ten minutes Archie, after a good deal of snake-like writhing, was pleased to discover that the thingummy attached to his wrists hadloosened sufficiently to enable him to use his hands. He untied himselfand got up. 

He now began to tell himself that out of evil cometh good. His encounterwith the elusive Mr. Moon had not been an agreeable one, but it hadhad this solid advantage, that it had left him right in the middle ofa great many clothes. And Mr. Moon, whatever his moral defects, had theone excellent quality of taking about the same size as himself. Archie, casting a covetous eye upon a tweed suit which lay on the bed, was onthe point of climbing into the trousers when on the outer door of thestudio there sounded a forceful knocking. 

"Open up here!"

CHAPTER VI. THE BOMB

Archie bounded silently out into the other room and stood listeningtensely. He was not a naturally querulous man, but he did feel at thispoint that Fate was picking on him with a somewhat undue severity. 

"In th' name av th' Law!"

There are times when the best of us lose our heads. At this junctureArchie should undoubtedly have gone to the door, opened it, explainedhis presence in a few well-chosen words, and generally have passed thewhole thing off with ready tact. But the thought of confronting a posseof police in his present costume caused him to look earnestly about himfor a hiding-place. 

Up against the farther wall was a settee with a high, arching back, which might have been put there for that special purpose. He insertedhimself behind this, just as a splintering crash announced that the Law, having gone through the formality of knocking with its knuckles, was nowgetting busy with an axe. A moment later the door had given way, and theroom was full of trampling feet. Archie wedged himself against the wallwith the quiet concentration of a clam nestling in its shell, and hopedfor the best. 

It seemed to him that his immediate future depended for better or forworse entirely on the native intelligence of the Force. If they were thebright, alert men he hoped they were, they would see all that junk inthe bedroom and, deducing from it that their quarry had stood notupon the order of his going but had hopped it, would not waste time insearching a presumably empty apartment. If, on the other hand, they werethe obtuse, flat-footed persons who occasionally find their way intothe ranks of even the most enlightened constabularies, they wouldundoubtedly shift the settee and drag him into a publicity from whichhis modest soul shrank. He was enchanted, therefore, a few momentslater, to hear a gruff voice state that th' mutt had beaten it downth' fire-escape. His opinion of the detective abilities of the New Yorkpolice force rose with a bound. 

There followed a brief council of war, which, as it took place in thebedroom, was inaudible to Archie except as a distant growling noise. He could distinguish no words, but, as it was succeeded by a generaltrampling of large boots in the direction of the door and then bysilence, he gathered that the pack, having drawn the studio and foundit empty, had decided to return to other and more profitable duties. Hegave them a reasonable interval for removing themselves, and then pokedhis head cautiously over the settee. 

All was peace. The place was empty. No sound disturbed the stillness. 

Archie emerged. For the first time in this morning of disturbingoccurrences he began to feel that God was in his heaven and all rightwith the world. At last things were beginning to brighten up a bit, andlife might be said to have taken on some of the aspects of a good egg. He stretched himself, for it is cramping work lying under settees, and, proceeding to the bedroom, picked up the tweed trousers again. 

Clothes had a fascination for Archie. Another man, in similarcircumstances, might have hurried over his toilet; but Archie, faced bya difficult choice of ties, rather strung the thing out. He selected aspecimen which did great credit to the taste of Mr. Moon, evidentlyone of our snappiest dressers, found that it did not harmonise with thedeeper meaning of the tweed suit, removed it, chose another, and wasadjusting the bow and admiring the effect, when his attention wasdiverted by a slight sound which was half a cough and half a sniff; and, turning, found himself gazing into the clear blue eyes of a large manin uniform, who had stepped into the room from the fire-escape. He wasswinging a substantial club in a negligent sort of way, and he looked atArchie with a total absence of bonhomie. 

"Ah!" he observed. 

"Oh, THERE you are!" said Archie, subsiding weakly against the chestof drawers. He gulped. "Of course, I can see you're thinking all thispretty tolerably weird and all that, " he proceeded, in a propitiatoryvoice. 

The policeman attempted no analysis of his emotions, He opened a mouthwhich a moment before had looked incapable of being opened except withthe assistance of powerful machinery, and shouted a single word. 

"Cassidy!"

A distant voice gave tongue in answer. It was like alligators roaring totheir mates across lonely swamps. 

There was a rumble of footsteps in the region of the stairs, andpresently there entered an even larger guardian of the Law than thefirst exhibit. He, too, swung a massive club, and, like his colleague, he gazed frostily at Archie. 

"God save Ireland!" he remarked. 

The words appeared to be more in the nature of an expletive than apractical comment on the situation. Having uttered them, he drapedhimself in the doorway like a colossus, and chewed gum. 

"Where ja get him?" he enquired, after a pause. 

"Found him in here attimpting to disguise himself. "

"I told Cap. He was hiding somewheres, but he would have it that he'dbeat it down th' escape, " said the gum-chewer, with the sombre triumphof the underling whose sound advice has been overruled by those abovehim. He shifted his wholesome (or, as some say, unwholesome) morsel tothe other side of his mouth, and for the first time addressed Archiedirectly. "Ye're pinched!" he observed. 

Archie started violently. The bleak directness of the speech roused himwith a jerk from the dream-like state into which he had fallen. He hadnot anticipated this. He had assumed that there would be a period oftedious explanations to be gone through before he was at liberty todepart to the cosy little lunch for which his interior had been sighingwistfully this long time past; but that he should be arrested had beenoutside his calculations. Of course, he could put everything righteventually; he could call witnesses to his character and the purity ofhis intentions; but in the meantime the whole dashed business would bein all the papers, embellished with all those unpleasant flippancies towhich your newspaper reporter is so prone to stoop when he sees half achance. He would feel a frightful chump. Chappies would rot him about itto the most fearful extent. Old Brewster's name would come into it, andhe could not disguise it from himself that his father-in-law, who likedhis name in the papers as little as possible, would be sorer than asunburned neck. 

"No, I say, you know! I mean, I mean to say!"

"Pinched!" repeated the rather larger policeman. 

"And annything ye say, " added his slightly smaller colleague, "will beused agenst ya 't the trial. "

"And if ya try t'escape, " said the first speaker, twiddling his club, "ya'll getja block knocked off. "

And, having sketched out this admirably clear and neatly-constructedscenario, the two relapsed into silence. Officer Cassidy restored hisgum to circulation. Officer Donahue frowned sternly at his boots. 

"But, I say, " said Archie, "it's all a mistake, you know. Absolutely afrightful error, my dear old constables. I'm not the lad you're afterat all. The chappie you want is a different sort of fellow altogether. Another blighter entirely. "

New York policemen never laugh when on duty. There is probably somethingin the regulations against it. But Officer Donahue permitted the leftcorner of his mouth to twitch slightly, and a momentary muscular spasmdisturbed the calm of Officer Cassidy's granite features, as a passingbreeze ruffles the surface of some bottomless lake. 

"That's what they all say!" observed Officer Donahue. 

"It's no use tryin' that line of talk, " said Officer Cassidy. "Babcock'ssquealed. "

"Sure. Squealed 's morning, " said Officer Donahue. 

Archie's memory stirred vaguely. 

"Babcock?" he said. "Do you know, that name seems familiar to me, somehow. I'm almost sure I've read it in the paper or something. "

"Ah, cut it out!" said Officer Cassidy, disgustedly. The two constablesexchanged a glance of austere disapproval. This hypocrisy pained them. "Read it in th' paper or something!"

"By Jove! I remember now. He's the chappie who was arrested in thatbond business. For goodness' sake, my dear, merry old constables, " saidArchie, astounded, "you surely aren't labouring under the impressionthat I'm the Master-Mind they were talking about in the paper? Why, whatan absolutely priceless notion! I mean to say, I ask you, what! Frankly, laddies, do I look like a Master-Mind?"

Officer Cassidy heaved a deep sigh, which rumbled up from his interiorlike the first muttering of a cyclone. 

"If I'd known, " he said, regretfully, "that this guy was going to turnout a ruddy Englishman, I'd have taken a slap at him with m' stick andchanced it!"

Officer Donahue considered the point well taken. 

"Ah!" he said, understandingly. He regarded Archie with an unfriendlyeye. "I know th' sort well! Trampling on th' face av th' poor!"

"Ya c'n trample on the poor man's face, " said Officer Cassidy, severely;"but don't be surprised if one day he bites you in the leg!"

"But, my dear old sir, " protested Archie, "I've never trampled--"

"One of these days, " said Officer Donahue, moodily, "the Shannon willflow in blood to the sea!"

"Absolutely! But--"

Officer Cassidy uttered a glad cry. 

"Why couldn't we hit him a lick, " he suggested, brightly, "an' tell th'Cap. He resisted us in th' exercise of our jooty?"

An instant gleam of approval and enthusiasm came into Officer Donahue'seyes. Officer Donahue was not a man who got these luminous inspirationshimself, but that did not prevent him appreciating them in others andbestowing commendation in the right quarter. There was nothing petty orgrudging about Officer Donahue. 

"Ye're the lad with the head, Tim!" he exclaimed admiringly. 

"It just sorta came to me, " said Mr. Cassidy, modestly. 

"It's a great idea, Timmy!"

"Just happened to think of it, " said Mr. Cassidy, with a coy gesture ofself-effacement. 

Archie had listened to the dialogue with growing uneasiness. Not for thefirst time since he had made their acquaintance, he became vividly awareof the exceptional physical gifts of these two men. The New York policeforce demands from those who would join its ranks an extremely highstandard of stature and sinew, but it was obvious that jolly old Donahueand Cassidy must have passed in first shot without any difficultywhatever. 

"I say, you know, " he observed, apprehensively. 

And then a sharp and commanding voice spoke from the outer room. 

"Donahue! Cassidy! What the devil does this mean?"

Archie had a momentary impression that an angel had fluttered down tohis rescue. If this was the case, the angel had assumed an effectivedisguise--that of a police captain. The new arrival was a far smallerman than his subordinates--so much smaller that it did Archie good tolook at him. For a long time he had been wishing that it were possibleto rest his eyes with the spectacle of something of a slightly lessout-size nature than his two companions. 

"Why have you left your posts?"

The effect of the interruption on the Messrs. Cassidy and Donahuewas pleasingly instantaneous. They seemed to shrink to almost normalproportions, and their manner took on an attractive deference. 

Officer Donahue saluted. 

"If ye plaze, sorr--"

Officer Cassidy also saluted, simultaneously. 

"'Twas like this, sorr--"

The captain froze Officer Cassidy with a glance and, leaving himcongealed, turned to Officer Donahue. 

"Oi wuz standing on th' fire-escape, sorr, " said Officer Donahue, ina tone of obsequious respect which not only delighted, but astoundedArchie, who hadn't known he could talk like that, "accordin' toinstructions, when I heard a suspicious noise. I crope in, sorr, andfound this duck--found the accused, sorr--in front of the mirror, examinin' himself. I then called to Officer Cassidy for assistance. Wepinched--arrested um, sorr. "

The captain looked at Archie. It seemed to Archie that he looked at himcoldly and with contempt. 

"Who is he?"

"The Master-Mind, sorr. "

"The what?"

"The accused, sorr. The man that's wanted. "

"You may want him. I don't, " said the captain. Archie, though relieved, thought he might have put it more nicely. "This isn't Moon. It's not abit like him. "

"Absolutely not!" agreed Archie, cordially. "It's all a mistake, oldcompanion, as I was trying to--"

"Cut it out!"

"Ob, right-o!"

"You've seen the photographs at the station. Do you mean to tell me yousee any resemblance?"

"If ye plaze, sorr, " said Officer Cassidy, coming to life. 

"Well?"

"We thought he'd bin disguising himself, the way he wouldn't berecognised. "

"You're a fool!" said the captain. 

"Yes, sorr, " said Officer Cassidy, meekly. 

"So are you, Donahue. "

"Yes, sorr. "

Archie's respect for this chappie was going up all the time. He seemedto be able to take years off the lives of these massive blighters with aword. It was like the stories you read about lion-tamers. Archie didnot despair of seeing Officer Donahue and his old college chum Cassidyeventually jumping through hoops. 

"Who are you?" demanded the captain, turning to Archie. 

"Well, my name is--"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's rather a longish story, you know. Don't want to bore you, and all that. "

"I'm here to listen. You can't bore ME. "

"Dashed nice of you to put it like that, " said Archie, gratefully. "Imean to say, makes it easier and so forth. What I mean is, you know howrotten you feel telling the deuce of a long yarn and wondering if theparty of the second part is wishing you would turn off the tap and gohome. I mean--"

"If, " said the captain, "you're reciting something, stop. If you'retrying to tell me what you're doing here, make it shorter and easier. "

Archie saw his point. Of course, time was money--the modern spirit ofhustle--all that sort of thing. 

"Well, it was this bathing suit, you know, " he said. 

"What bathing suit?"

"Mine, don't you know, A lemon-coloured contrivance. Rather bright andso forth, but in its proper place not altogether a bad egg. Well, thewhole thing started, you know, with my standing on a bally pedestal sortof arrangement in a diving attitude--for the cover, you know. I don'tknow if you have ever done anything of that kind yourself, but it givesyou a most fearful crick in the spine. However, that's rather beside thepoint, I suppose--don't know why I mentioned it. Well, this morning hewas dashed late, so I went out--"

"What the devil are you talking about?"

Archie looked at him, surprised. 

"Aren't I making it clear?"

"No. "

"Well, you understand about the bathing suit, don't you? The jolly oldbathing suit, you've grasped that, what?"

"No. "

"Oh, I say, " said Archie. "That's rather a nuisance. I mean to say, the bathing suit's what you might call the good old pivot of the wholedashed affair, you see. Well, you understand about the cover, what?You're pretty clear on the subject of the cover?"

"What cover?"

"Why, for the magazine. "

"What magazine?"

"Now there you rather have me. One of these bright little periodicals, you know, that you see popping to and fro on the bookstalls. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, " said the captain. He looked atArchie with an expression of distrust and hostility. "And I'll tell youstraight out I don't like the looks of you. I believe you're a pal ofhis. "

"No longer, " said Archie, firmly. "I mean to say, a chappie who makesyou stand on a bally pedestal sort of arrangement and get a crick inthe spine, and then doesn't turn up and leaves you biffing all over thecountryside in a bathing suit--"

The reintroduction of the bathing suit motive seemed to have the worsteffect on the captain. He flushed darkly. 

"Are you trying to josh me? I've a mind to soak you!"

"If ye plaze, sorr, " cried Officer Donahue and Officer Cassidy inchorus. In the course of their professional career they did not oftenhear their superior make many suggestions with which they saw eye toeye, but he had certainly, in their opinion, spoken a mouthful now. 

"No, honestly, my dear old thing, nothing was farther from mythoughts--"

He would have spoken further, but at this moment the world came toan end. At least, that was how it sounded. Somewhere in the immediateneighbourhood something went off with a vast explosion, shattering theglass in the window, peeling the plaster from the ceiling, and sendinghim staggering into the inhospitable arms of Officer Donahue. 

The three guardians of the Law stared at one another. 

"If ye plaze, sorr, " said. Officer Cassidy, saluting. 

"Well?"

"May I spake, sorr?"

"Well?"

"Something's exploded, sorr!"

The information, kindly meant though it was, seemed to annoy thecaptain. 

"What the devil did you think I thought had happened?" he demanded, withnot a little irritation, "It was a bomb!"

Archie could have corrected this diagnosis, for already a faint butappealing aroma of an alcoholic nature was creeping into the roomthrough a hole in the ceiling, and there had risen before his eyes thepicture of J. B. Wheeler affectionately regarding that barrel of his onthe previous morning in the studio upstairs. J. B. Wheeler had wantedquick results, and he had got them. Archie had long since ceased toregard J. B. Wheeler as anything but a tumour on the social system, buthe was bound to admit that he had certainly done him a good turn now. Already these honest men, diverted by the superior attraction of thislatest happening, appeared to have forgotten his existence. 

"Sorr!" said Officer Donahue. 

"Well?"

"It came from upstairs, sorr. "

"Of course it came from upstairs. Cassidy!"

"Sorr?"

"Get down into the street, call up the reserves, and stand at the frontentrance to keep the crowd back. We'll have the whole city here in fiveminutes. "

"Right, sorr. "

"Don't let anyone in. "

"No, sorr. "

"Well, see that you don't. Come along, Donahue, now. Look slippy. "

"On the spot, sorr!" said Officer Donahue. 

A moment later Archie had the studio to himself. Two minutes later hewas picking his way cautiously down the fire-escape after the manner ofthe recent Mr. Moon. Archie had not seen much of Mr. Moon, but he hadseen enough to know that in certain crises his methods were sound andshould be followed. Elmer Moon was not a good man; his ethics were poorand his moral code shaky; but in the matter of legging it away from asituation of peril and discomfort he had no superior. 

CHAPTER VII. MR. ROSCOE SHERRIFF HAS AN IDEA

Archie inserted a fresh cigarette in his long holder and began to smokea little moodily. It was about a week after his disturbing adventures inJ. B. Wheeler's studio, and life had ceased for the moment to be a thingof careless enjoyment. Mr. Wheeler, mourning over his lost home-brew andrefusing, like Niobe, to be comforted, has suspended the sittings forthe magazine cover, thus robbing Archie of his life-work. Mr. Brewsterhad not been in genial mood of late. And, in addition to all this, Lucille was away on a visit to a school-friend. And when Lucille wentaway, she took with her the sunshine. Archie was not surprised at herbeing popular and in demand among her friends, but that did not help himto become reconciled to her absence. 

He gazed rather wistfully across the table at his friend, RoscoeSherriff, the Press-agent, another of his Pen-and-Ink Clubacquaintances. They had just finished lunch, and during the mealSherriff, who, like most men of action, was fond of hearing the soundof his own voice and liked exercising it on the subject of himself, hadbeen telling Archie a few anecdotes about his professional past. Fromthese the latter had conceived a picture of Roscoe Sherriff's life as aprismatic thing of energy and adventure and well-paid withal--just thesort of life, in fact, which he would have enjoyed leading himself. He wished that he, too, like the Press-agent, could go about the place"slipping things over" and "putting things across. " Daniel Brewster, hefelt, would have beamed upon a son-in-law like Roscoe Sherriff. 

"The more I see of America, " sighed Archie, "the more it amazes me. Allyou birds seem to have been doing things from the cradle upwards. I wishI could do things!"

"Well, why don't you?"

Archie flicked the ash from his cigarette into the finger-bowl. 

"Oh, I don't know, you know, " he said, "Somehow, none of our family everhave. I don't know why it is, but whenever a Moffam starts out to dothings he infallibly makes a bloomer. There was a Moffam in the MiddleAges who had a sudden spasm of energy and set out to make a pilgrimageto Jerusalem, dressed as a wandering friar. Rum ideas they had in thosedays. "

"Did he get there?"

"Absolutely not! Just as he was leaving the front door his favouritehound mistook him for a tramp--or a varlet, or a scurvy knave, orwhatever they used to call them at that time--and bit him in the fleshypart of the leg. "

"Well, at least he started. "

"Enough to make a chappie start, what?"

Roscoe Sherriff sipped his coffee thoughtfully. He was an apostle ofEnergy, and it seemed to him that he could make a convert of Archie andincidentally do himself a bit of good. For several days he had been, looking for someone like Archie to help him in a small matter which hehad in mind. 

"If you're really keen on doing things, " he said, "there's something youcan do for me right away. "

Archie beamed. Action was what his soul demanded. 

"Anything, dear boy, anything! State your case!"

"Would you have any objection to putting up a snake for me?"

"Putting up a snake?"

"Just for a day or two. "

"But how do you mean, old soul? Put him up where?"

"Wherever you live. Where do you live? The Cosmopolis, isn't it? Ofcourse! You married old Brewster's daughter. I remember reading aboutit. "

"But, I say, laddie, I don't want to spoil your day and disappoint youand so forth, but my jolly old father-in-law would never let me keep asnake. Why, it's as much as I can do to make him let me stop on in theplace. "

"He wouldn't know. "

"There's not much that goes on in the hotel that he doesn't know, " saidArchie, doubtfully. 

"He mustn't know. The whole point of the thing is that it must be a deadsecret. "

Archie flicked some more ash into the finger-bowl. 

"I don't seem absolutely to have grasped the affair in all its aspects, if you know what I mean, " he said. "I mean to say--in the firstplace--why would it brighten your young existence if I entertained thissnake of yours?"

"It's not mine. It belongs to Mme. Brudowska. You've heard of her, ofcourse?"

"Oh yes. She's some sort of performing snake female in vaudeville orsomething, isn't she, or something of that species or order?"

"You're near it, but not quite right. She is the leading exponent ofhigh-brow tragedy on any stage in the civilized world. "

"Absolutely! I remember now. My wife lugged me to see her perform onenight. It all comes back to me. She had me wedged in an orchestra-stallbefore I knew what I was up against, and then it was too late. Iremember reading in some journal or other that she had a pet snake, given her by some Russian prince or other, what?"

"That, " said Sherriff, "was the impression I intended to convey when Isent the story to the papers. I'm her Press-agent. As a matter of fact, I bought Peter-its name's Peter-myself down on the East Side. I alwaysbelieve in animals for Press-agent stunts. I've nearly always had goodresults. But with Her Nibs I'm handicapped. Shackled, so to speak. Youmight almost say my genius is stifled. Or strangled, if you prefer it. "

"Anything you say, " agreed Archie, courteously, "But how? Why is yourwhat-d'you-call-it what's-its-named?"

"She keeps me on a leash. She won't let me do anything with a kick init. If I've suggested one rip-snorting stunt, I've suggested twenty, andevery time she turns them down on the ground that that sort of thingis beneath the dignity of an artist in her position. It doesn't give afellow a chance. So now I've made up my mind to do her good by stealth. I'm going to steal her snake. "

"Steal it? Pinch it, as it were?"

"Yes. Big story for the papers, you see. She's grown very much attachedto Peter. He's her mascot. I believe she's practically kidded herselfinto believing that Russian prince story. If I can sneak it away andkeep it away for a day or two, she'll do the rest. She'll make such afuss that the papers will be full of it. "

"I see. "

"Wow, any ordinary woman would work in with me. But not Her Nibs. Shewould call it cheap and degrading and a lot of other things. It's got tobe a genuine steal, and, if I'm caught at it, I lose my job. So that'swhere you come in. "

"But where am I to keep the jolly old reptile?"

"Oh, anywhere. Punch a few holes in a hat-box, and make it up ashakedown inside. It'll be company for you. "

"Something in that. My wife's away just now and it's a bit lonely in theevenings. "

"You'll never be lonely with Peter around. He's a great scout. Alwaysmerry and bright. "

"He doesn't bite, I suppose, or sting or what-not?"

"He may what-not occasionally. It depends on the weather. But, outsideof that, he's as harmless as a canary. "

"Dashed dangerous things, canaries, " said Archie, thoughtfully. "Theypeck at you. "

"Don't weaken!" pleaded the Press-agent

"Oh, all right. I'll take him. By the way, touching the matter ofbrowsing and sluicing. What do I feed him on?"

"Oh, anything. Bread-and-milk or fruit or soft-boiled egg or dog-biscuitor ants'-eggs. You know--anything you have yourself. Well, I'm muchobliged for your hospitality. I'll do the same for you another time. NowI must be getting along to see to the practical end of the thing. By theway, Her Nibs lives at the Cosmopolis, too. Very convenient. Well, solong. See you later. "

Archie, left alone, began for the first time to have serious doubts. Hehad allowed himself to be swayed by Mr. Sherriff's magnetic personality, but now that the other had removed himself he began to wonder if he hadbeen entirely wise to lend his sympathy and co-operation to the scheme. He had never had intimate dealings with a snake before, but he had keptsilkworms as a child, and there had been the deuce of a lot of fuss andunpleasantness over them. Getting into the salad and what-not. Somethingseemed to tell him that he was asking for trouble with a loud voice, buthe had given his word and he supposed he would have to go through withit. 

He lit another cigarette and wandered out into Fifth Avenue. His usuallysmooth brow was ruffled with care. Despite the eulogies which Sherriffhad uttered concerning Peter, he found his doubts increasing. Petermight, as the Press-agent had stated, be a great scout, but was hislittle Garden of Eden on the fifth floor of the Cosmopolis Hotel likelyto be improved by the advent of even the most amiable and winsome ofserpents? However--

"Moffam! My dear fellow!"

The voice, speaking suddenly in his ear from behind, roused Archie fromhis reflections. Indeed, it roused him so effectually that he jumped aclear inch off the ground and bit his tongue. Revolving on his axis, hefound himself confronting a middle-aged man with a face like a horse. The man was dressed in something of an old-world style. His clothes hadan English cut. He had a drooping grey moustache. He also wore a greybowler hat flattened at the crown--but who are we to judge him?

"Archie Moffam! I have been trying to find you all the morning. "

Archie had placed him now. He had not seen General Mannister for severalyears--not, indeed, since the days when he used to meet him at the homeof young Lord Seacliff, his nephew. Archie had been at Eton and Oxfordwith Seacliff, and had often visited him in the Long Vacation. 

"Halloa, General! What ho, what ho! What on earth are you doing overhere?"

"Let's get out of this crush, my boy. " General Mannister steered Archieinto a side-street, "That's better. " He cleared his throat once ortwice, as if embarrassed. "I've brought Seacliff over, " he said, finally. 

"Dear old Squiffy here? Oh, I say! Great work!"

General Mannister did not seem to share his enthusiasm. He looked like ahorse with a secret sorrow. He coughed three times, like a horse who, inaddition to a secret sorrow, had contracted asthma. 

"You will find Seacliff changed, " he said. "Let me see, how long is itsince you and he met?"

Archie reflected. 

"I was demobbed just about a year ago. I saw him in Paris about a yearbefore that. The old egg got a bit of shrapnel in his foot or something, didn't he? Anyhow, I remember he was sent home. "

"His foot is perfectly well again now. But, unfortunately, the enforcedinaction led to disastrous results. You recollect, no doubt, thatSeacliff always had a--a tendency;--a--a weakness--it was a familyfailing--"

"Mopping it up, do you mean? Shifting it? Looking on the jolly old stuffwhen it was red and what not, what?"

"Exactly. "

Archie nodded. 

"Dear old Squiffy was always rather-a lad for the wassail-bowl. When Imet him in Paris, I remember, he was quite tolerably blotto. "

"Precisely. And the failing has, I regret to say, grown on him since hereturned from the war. My poor sister was extremely worried. In fact, tocut a long story short, I induced him to accompany me to America. I amattached to the British Legation in Washington now, you know. "

"Oh, really?"

"I wished Seacliff to come with me to Washington, but he insists onremaining in New York. He stated specifically that the thought of livingin Washington gave him the--what was the expression he used?"

"The pip?"

"The pip. Precisely. "

"But what was the idea of bringing him to America?"

"This admirable Prohibition enactment has rendered America--to mymind--the ideal place for a young man of his views. " The General lookedat his watch. "It is most fortunate that I happened to run into you, mydear fellow. My train for Washington leaves in another hour, and I havepacking to do. I want to leave poor Seacliff in your charge while I amgone. "

"Oh, I say! What!"

"You can look after him. I am credibly informed that even now thereare places in New York where a determined young man may obtainthe--er--stuff, and I should be infinitely obliged--and my poor sisterwould be infinitely grateful--if you would keep an eye on him. " Hehailed a taxi-cab. "I am sending Seacliff round to the Cosmopolisto-night. I am sure you, will do everything you can. Good-bye, my boy, good-bye. "

Archie continued his walk. This, he felt, was beginning to be a bitthick. He smiled a bitter, mirthless smile as he recalled the fact thatless than half an hour had elapsed since he had expressed a regret thathe did not belong to the ranks of those who do things. Fate since thenhad certainly supplied him with jobs with a lavish hand. By bed-time hewould be an active accomplice to a theft, valet and companion to a snakehe had never met, and--as far as could gather the scope of his duties--acombination of nursemaid and private detective to dear old Squiffy. 

It was past four o'clock when he returned to the Cosmopolis. RoscoeSherriff was pacing the lobby of the hotel nervously, carrying a smallhand-bag. 

"Here you are at last! Good heavens, man, I've been waiting two hours. "

"Sorry, old bean. I was musing a bit and lost track of the time. "

The Press-agent looked cautiously round. There was nobody withinearshot. 

"Here he is!" he said. 

"Who?"

"Peter. "

"Where?" said Archie, staring blankly. 

"In this bag. Did you expect to find him strolling arm-in-arm with meround the lobby? Here you are! Take him!"

He was gone. And Archie, holding the bag, made his way to the lift. Thebag squirmed gently in his grip. 

The only other occupant of the lift was a striking-looking woman offoreign appearance, dressed in a way that made Archie feel that shemust be somebody or she couldn't look like that. Her face, too, seemedvaguely familiar. She entered the lift at the second floor where thetea-room is, and she had the contented expression of one who had tea'dto her satisfaction. She got off at the same floor as Archie, and walkedswiftly, in a lithe, pantherist way, round the bend in the corridor. Archie followed more slowly. When he reached the door of his room, thepassage was empty. He inserted the key in his door, turned it, pushedthe door open, and pocketed the key. He was about to enter when the bagagain squirmed gently in his grip. 

From the days of Pandora, through the epoch of Bluebeard's wife, downto the present time, one of the chief failings of humanity has been thedisposition to open things that were better closed. It would have beensimple for Archie to have taken another step and put a door betweenhimself and the world, but there came to him the irresistible desire topeep into the bag now--not three seconds later, but now. All the wayup in the lift he had been battling with the temptation, and now hesuccumbed. 

The bag was one of those simple bags with a thingummy which you press. Archie pressed it. And, as it opened, out popped the head of Peter. Hiseyes met Archie's. Over his head there seemed to be an invisible markof interrogation. His gaze was curious, but kindly. He appeared to besaying to himself, "Have I found a friend?"

Serpents, or Snakes, says the Encyclopaedia, are reptiles of the saurianclass Ophidia, characterised by an elongated, cylindrical, limbless, scaly form, and distinguished from lizards by the fact that the halves(RAMI) of the lower jaw are not solidly united at the chin, but movablyconnected by an elastic ligament. The vertebra are very numerous, gastrocentrous, and procoelous. And, of course, when they put it likethat, you can see at once that a man might spend hours with combinedentertainment and profit just looking at a snake. 

Archie would no doubt have done this; but long before he had time reallyto inspect the halves (RAMI) of his new friend's lower jaw and to admireits elastic fittings, and long before the gastrocentrous and procoelouscharacter of the other's vertebrae had made any real impression onhim, a piercing scream almost at his elbow--startled him out of hisscientific reverie. A door opposite had opened, and the woman of theelevator was standing staring at him with an expression of horror andfury that went through, him like a knife. It was the expressionwhich, more than anything else, had made Mme. Brudowska what she wasprofessionally. Combined with a deep voice and a sinuous walk, itenabled her to draw down a matter of a thousand dollars per week. 

Indeed, though the fact gave him little pleasure, Archie, as a matter offact, was at this moment getting about--including war-tax--two dollarsand seventy-five cents worth of the great emotional star for nothing. For, having treated him gratis to the look of horror and fury, she nowmoved towards him with the sinuous walk and spoke in the tone which sheseldom permitted herself to use before the curtain of act two, unlessthere was a whale of a situation that called for it in act one. 

"Thief!"

It was the way she said it. 

Archie staggered backwards as though he had been hit between the eyes, fell through the open door of his room, kicked it to with a flying foot, and collapsed on the bed. Peter, the snake, who had fallen on the floorwith a squashy sound, looked surprised and pained for a moment; then, being a philosopher at heart, cheered up and began hunting for fliesunder the bureau. 

CHAPTER VIII. A DISTURBED NIGHT FOR DEAR OLD SQUIFFY

Peril sharpens the intellect. Archie's mind as a rule worked in rather alanguid and restful sort of way, but now it got going with a rush anda whir. He glared round the room. He had never seen a room so devoidof satisfactory cover. And then there came to him a scheme, a ruse. Itoffered a chance of escape. It was, indeed, a bit of all right. 

Peter, the snake, loafing contentedly about the carpet, found himselfseized by what the Encyclopaedia calls the "distensible gullet" andlooked up reproachfully. The next moment he was in his bag again; andArchie, bounding silently into the bathroom, was tearing the cord offhis dressing-gown. 

There came a banging at the door. A voice spoke sternly. A masculinevoice this time. 

"Say! Open this door!"

Archie rapidly attached the dressing-gown cord to the handle of the bag, leaped to the window, opened it, tied the cord to a projecting piece ofiron on the sill, lowered Peter and the bag into the depths, and closedthe window again. The whole affair took but a few seconds. Generals havereceived the thanks of their nations for displaying less resource on thefield of battle. 

He opened the-door. Outside stood the bereaved woman, and beside her abullet-headed gentleman with a bowler hat on the back of his head, inwhom Archie recognised the hotel detective. 

The hotel detective also recognised Archie, and the stern cast of hisfeatures relaxed. He even smiled a rusty but propitiatory smile. Heimagined--erroneously--that Archie, being the son-in-law of the ownerof the hotel, had a pull with that gentleman; and he resolved to proceedwarily lest he jeopardise his job. 

"Why, Mr. Moffam!" he said, apologetically. "I didn't know it was you Iwas disturbing. "

"Always glad to have a chat, " said Archie, cordially. "What seems to bethe trouble?"

"My snake!" cried the queen of tragedy. "Where is my snake?"

Archie, looked at the detective. The detective looked at Archie. 

"This lady, " said the detective, with a dry little cough, "thinks hersnake is in your room, Mr. Moffam. "

"Snake?"

"Snake's what the lady said. "

"My snake! My Peter!" Mme. Brudowska's voice shook with emotion. "He ishere--here in this room. "

Archie shook his head. 

"No snakes here! Absolutely not! I remember noticing when I came in. "

"The snake is here--here in this room. This man had it in a bag! I sawhim! He is a thief!"

"Easy, ma'am!" protested the detective. "Go easy! This gentleman is theboss's son-in-law. "

"I care not who he is! He has my snake! Here--' here in this room!"

"Mr. Moffam wouldn't go round stealing snakes. "

"Rather not, " said Archie. "Never stole a snake in my life. None of theMoffams have ever gone about stealing snakes. Regular family tradition!Though I once had an uncle who kept gold-fish. "

"Here he is! Here! My Peter!"

Archie looked at the detective. The detective looked at Archie. "We musthumour her!" their glances said. 

"Of course, " said Archie, "if you'd like to search the room, what? WhatI mean to say is, this is Liberty Hall. Everybody welcome! Bring thekiddies!"

"I will search the room!" said Mme. Brudowska. 

The detective glanced apologetically at Archie. 

"Don't blame me for this, Mr. Moffam, " he urged. 

"Rather not! Only too glad you've dropped in!"

He took up an easy attitude against the window, and watched the empressof the emotional drama explore. Presently she desisted, baffled. For aninstant she paused, as though about to speak, then swept from the room. A moment later a door banged across the passage. 

"How do they get that way?" queried the detective, "Well, g'bye, Mr. Moffam. Sorry to have butted in. "

The door closed. Archie waited a few moments, then went to the windowand hauled in the slack. Presently the bag appeared over the edge of thewindow-sill. 

"Good God!" said Archie. 

In the rush and swirl of recent events he must have omitted to see thatthe clasp that fastened the bag was properly closed; for the bag, asit jumped on to the window-sill, gaped at him like a yawning face. Andinside it there was nothing. 

Archie leaned as far out of the window as he could manage withoutcommitting suicide. Far below him, the traffic took its usual courseand the pedestrians moved to and fro upon the pavements. There was nocrowding, no excitement. Yet only a few moments before a long greensnake with three hundred ribs, a distensible gullet, and gastrocentrousvertebras must have descended on that street like the gentle rain fromHeaven upon the place beneath. And nobody seemed even interested. Notfor the first time since he had arrived in America, Archie marvelledat the cynical detachment of the New Yorker, who permits himself to besurprised at nothing. 

He shut the window and moved away with a heavy Heart. He had not hadthe pleasure of an extended acquaintanceship with Peter, but he hadseen enough of him to realise his sterling qualities. Somewhere beneathPeter's three hundred ribs there had lain a heart of gold, and Archiemourned for his loss. 

Archie had a dinner and theatre engagement that night, and it was latewhen he returned to the hotel. He found his father-in-law prowlingrestlessly about the lobby. There seemed to be something on Mr. Brewster's mind. He came up to Archie with a brooding frown on hissquare face. 

"Who's this man Seacliff?" he demanded, without preamble. "I hear he's afriend of yours. "

"Oh, you've met him, what?" said Archie. "Had a nice little chattogether, yes? Talked of this and that, no!"

"We have not said a word to each other. "

"Really? Oh, well, dear old Squiffy is one of those strong, silentfellers you know. You mustn't mind if he's a bit dumb. He never saysmuch, but it's whispered round the clubs that he thinks a lot. It wasrumoured in the spring of nineteen-thirteen that Squiffy was on thepoint of making a bright remark, but it never came to anything. "

Mr. Brewster struggled with his feelings. 

"Who is he? You seem to know him. "

"Oh yes. Great pal of mine, Squiffy. We went through Eton, Oxford, andthe Bankruptcy Court together. And here's a rummy coincidence. When theyexamined ME, I had no assets. And, when they examined Squiffy, HE had noassets! Rather extraordinary, what?"

Mr. Brewster seemed to be in no mood for discussing coincidences. 

"I might have known he was a friend of yours!" he said, bitterly. "Well, if you want to see him, you'll have to do it outside my hotel. "

"Why, I thought he was stopping here. "

"He is--to-night. To-morrow he can look for some other hotel to breakup. "

"Great Scot! Has dear old Squiffy been breaking the place up?"

Mr. Brewster snorted. 

"I am informed that this precious friend of yours entered my grill-roomat eight o'clock. He must have been completely intoxicated, though thehead waiter tells me he noticed nothing at the time. "

Archie nodded approvingly. 

"Dear old Squiffy was always like that. It's a gift. However woozled hemight be, it was impossible to detect it with the naked eye. I've seenthe dear old chap many a time whiffled to the eyebrows, and looking assober as a bishop. Soberer! When did it begin to dawn on the lads in thegrill-room that the old egg had been pushing the boat out?"

"The head waiter, " said Mr. Brewster, with cold fury, "tells me that hegot a hint of the man's condition when he suddenly got up from his tableand went the round of the room, pulling off all the table-cloths, andbreaking everything that was on them. He then threw a number of rolls atthe diners, and left. He seems to have gone straight to bed. "

"Dashed sensible of him, what? Sound, practical chap, Squiffy. But whereon earth did he get the--er--materials?"

"From his room. I made enquiries. He has six large cases in his room. "

"Squiffy always was a chap of infinite resource! Well, I'm dashed sorrythis should have happened, don't you know. "

"If it hadn't been for you, the man would never have come here. " Mr. Brewster brooded coldly. "I don't know why it is, but ever since youcame to this hotel I've had nothing but trouble. "

"Dashed sorry!" said Archie, sympathetically. 

"Grrh!" said Mr. Brewster. 

Archie made his way meditatively to the lift. The injustice of hisfather-in-law's attitude pained him. It was absolutely rotten andall that to be blamed for everything that went wrong in the HotelCosmopolis. 

While this conversation was in progress, Lord Seacliff was enjoying arefreshing sleep in his room on the fourth floor. Two hours passed. Thenoise of the traffic in the street below faded away. Only the rattle ofan occasional belated cab broke the silence. In the hotel all was still. Mr. Brewster had gone to bed. Archie, in his room, smoked meditatively. Peace may have been said to reign. 

At half-past two Lord Seacliff awoke. His hours of slumber werealways irregular. He sat up in bed and switched the light on. He was ashock-headed young man with a red face and a hot brown eye. He yawnedand stretched himself. His head was aching a little. The room seemed tohim a trifle close. He got out of bed and threw open the window. Then, returning to bed, he picked up a book and began to read. He wasconscious of feeling a little jumpy, and reading generally sent him tosleep. 

Much has been written on the subject of bed-books. The general consensusof opinion is that a gentle, slow-moving story makes the best opiate. If this be so, dear old Squiffy's choice of literature had been ratherinjudicious. His book was The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and theparticular story, which he selected for perusal was the one entitled, "The Speckled Band. " He was not a great reader, but, when he read, heliked something with a bit of zip to it. 

Squiffy became absorbed. He had read the story before, but a long timeback, and its complications were fresh to him. The tale, it may beremembered, deals with the activities of an ingenious gentleman who kepta snake, and used to loose it into people's bedrooms as a preliminary tocollecting on their insurance. It gave Squiffy pleasant thrills, for hehad always had a particular horror of snakes. As a child, he had shrunkfrom visiting the serpent house at the Zoo; and, later, when he had cometo man's estate and had put off childish things, and settled downin real earnest to his self-appointed mission of drinking up all thealcoholic fluid in England, the distaste for Ophidia had lingered. Toa dislike for real snakes had been added a maturer shrinking fromthose which existed only in his imagination. He could still recall hisemotions on the occasion, scarcely three months before, when he had seena long, green serpent which a majority of his contemporaries had assuredhim wasn't there. 

Squiffy read on:--

"Suddenly another sound became audible--a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continuously from a kettle. "

Lord Seacliff looked up from his book with a start Imagination wasbeginning to play him tricks. He could have sworn that he had actuallyheard that identical sound. It had seemed to come from the window. Helistened again. No! All was still. He returned to his book and went onreading. 

"It was a singular sight that met our eyes. Beside the table, on awooden chair, sat Doctor Grimesby Rylott, clad in a long dressing-gown. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigidstare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiaryellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightlyround his head. "

"I took a step forward. In an instant his strange head-gear beganto move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat, diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent... "

"Ugh!" said Squiffy. 

He closed the book and put it down. His head was aching worse than ever. He wished now that he had read something else. No fellow could readhimself to sleep with this sort of thing. People ought not to write thissort of thing. 

His heart gave a bound. There it was again, that hissing sound. And thistime he was sure it came from the window. 

He looked at the window, and remained staring, frozen. Over the sill, with a graceful, leisurely movement, a green snake was crawling. Asit crawled, it raised its head and peered from side to side, like ashortsighted man looking for his spectacles. It hesitated a moment onthe edge of the sill, then wriggled to the floor and began to cross theroom. Squiffy stared on. 

It would have pained Peter deeply, for he was a snake of greatsensibility, if he had known how much his entrance had disturbed theoccupant of the room. He himself had no feeling but gratitude for theman who had opened the window and so enabled him to get in out of therather nippy night air. Ever since the bag had swung open and shot himout onto the sill of the window below Archie's, he had been waitingpatiently for something of the kind to happen. He was a snake who tookthings as they came, and was prepared to rough it a bit if necessary;but for the last hour or two he had been hoping that somebody would dosomething practical in the way of getting him in out of the cold. Whenat home, he had an eiderdown quilt to sleep on, and the stone of thewindow-sill was a little trying to a snake of regular habits. He crawledthankfully across the floor under Squiffy's bed. There was a pair oftrousers there, for his host had undressed when not in a frame of mindto fold his clothes neatly and place them upon a chair. Peter looked thetrousers over. They were not an eiderdown quilt, but they would serve. He curled up in them and went to sleep. He had had an exciting day, andwas glad to turn in. 

After about ten minutes, the tension of Squiffy's attitude relaxed. Hisheart, which had seemed to suspend its operations, began beating again. Reason reasserted itself. He peeped cautiously under the bed. He couldsee nothing. 

Squiffy was convinced. He told himself that he had never really believedin Peter as a living thing. It stood to reason that there couldn'treally be a snake in his room. The window looked out on emptiness. His room was several stories above the ground. There was a stern, set expression on Squiffy's face as he climbed out of bed. It was theexpression of a man who is turning over a new leaf, starting a new life. He looked about the room for some implement which would carry out thedeed he had to do, and finally pulled out one of the curtain-rods. Usingthis as a lever, he broke open the topmost of the six cases which stoodin the corner. The soft wood cracked and split. Squiffy drew out astraw-covered bottle. For a moment he stood looking at it, as a manmight gaze at a friend on the point of death. Then, with a suddendetermination, he went into the bathroom. There was a crash of glass anda gurgling sound. 

Half an hour later the telephone in Archie's room rang. "I say, Archie, old top, " said the voice of Squiffy. 

"Halloa, old bean! Is that you?"

"I say, could you pop down here for a second? I'm rather upset. "

"Absolutely! Which room?"

"Four-forty-one. "

"I'll be with you eftsoons or right speedily. "

"Thanks, old man. "

"What appears to be the difficulty?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I thought I saw a snake!"

"A snake!"

"I'll tell you all about it when you come down. "

Archie found Lord Seacliff seated on his bed. An arresting aroma ofmixed drinks pervaded the atmosphere. 

"I say! What?" said Archie, inhaling. 

"That's all right. I've been pouring my stock away. Just finished thelast bottle. "

"But why?"

"I told you. I thought I saw a snake!"

"Green?"

Squiffy shivered slightly. 

"Frightfully green!"

Archie hesitated. He perceived that there are moments when silence isthe best policy. He had been worrying himself over the unfortunate caseof his friend, and now that Fate seemed to have provided a solution, it would be rash to interfere merely to ease the old bean's mind. IfSquiffy was going to reform because he thought he had seen an imaginarysnake, better not to let him know that the snake was a real one. 

"Dashed serious!" he said. 

"Bally dashed serious!" agreed Squiffy. "I'm going to cut it out!"

"Great scheme!"

"You don't think, " asked Squiffy, with a touch of hopefulness, "that itcould have been a real snake?"

"Never heard of the management supplying them. "

"I thought it went under the bed. "

"Well, take a look. "

Squiffy shuddered. 

"Not me! I say, old top, you know, I simply can't sleep in this roomnow. I was wondering if you could give me a doss somewhere in yours. "

"Rather! I'm in five-forty-one. Just above. Trot along up. Here's thekey. I'll tidy up a bit here, and join you in a minute. "

Squiffy put on a dressing-gown and disappeared. Archie looked underthe bed. From the trousers the head of Peter popped up with its usualexpression of amiable enquiry. Archie nodded pleasantly, and sat downon the bed. The problem of his little friend's immediate future wantedthinking over. 

He lit a cigarette and remained for a while in thought. Then he rose. Anadmirable solution had presented itself. He picked Peter up and placedhim in the pocket of his dressing-gown. Then, leaving the room, hemounted the stairs till he reached the seventh floor. Outside a roomhalf-way down the corridor he paused. 

From within, through the open transom, came the rhythmical snoring of agood man taking his rest after the labours of the day. Mr. Brewster wasalways a heavy sleeper. 

"There's always a way, " thought Archie, philosophically, "if a chappieonly thinks of it. "

His father-in-law's snoring took on a deeper note. Archie extractedPeter from his pocket and dropped him gently through the transom. 

CHAPTER IX. A LETTER FROM PARKER

As the days went by and he settled down at the Hotel Cosmopolis, Archie, looking about him and revising earlier judgments, was inclined to thinkthat of all his immediate circle he most admired Parker, the lean, gravevalet of Mr. Daniel Brewster. Here was a man who, living in the closestcontact with one of the most difficult persons in New York, contrivedall the while to maintain an unbowed head, and, as far as one couldgather from appearances, a tolerably cheerful disposition. A great man, judge him by what standard you pleased. Anxious as he was to earn anhonest living, Archie would not have changed places with Parker for thesalary of a movie-star. 

It was Parker who first directed Archie's attention to the hidden meritsof Pongo. Archie had drifted into his father-in-law's suite one morning, as he sometimes did in the effort to establish more amicable relations, and had found it occupied only by the valet, who was dusting thefurniture and bric-a-brac with a feather broom rather in the style of aman-servant at the rise of the curtain of an old-fashioned farce. Aftera courteous exchange of greetings, Archie sat down and lit a cigarette. Parker went on dusting. 

"The guv'nor, " said Parker, breaking the silence, "has some nice littleobjay dar, sir. "

"Little what?"

"Objay dar, sir. "

Light dawned upon Archie. 

"Of course, yes. French for junk. I see what you mean now. Dare sayyou're right, old friend. Don't know much about these things myself. "

Parker gave an appreciative flick at a vase on the mantelpiece. 

"Very valuable, some of the guv'nor's things. " He had picked up thesmall china figure of the warrior with the spear, and was grooming itwith the ostentatious care of one brushing flies off a sleeping Venus. He regarded this figure with a look of affectionate esteem whichseemed to Archie absolutely uncalled-for. Archie's taste in Art was notprecious. To his untutored eye the thing was only one degree less foulthan his father-in-law's Japanese prints, which he had always observedwith silent loathing. "This one, now, " continued Parker. "Worth a lot ofmoney. Oh, a lot of money. "

"What, Pongo?" said Archie incredulously. 

"Sir?"

"I always call that rummy-looking what-not Pongo. Don't know what elseyou could call him, what!"

The valet seemed to disapprove of this levity. He shook his head andreplaced the figure on the mantelpiece. 

"Worth a lot of money, " he repeated. "Not by itself, no. "

"Oh, not by itself?"

"No, sir. Things like this come in pairs. Somewhere or other there's thecompanion-piece to this here, and if the guv'nor could get hold of it, he'd have something worth having. Something that connoozers would give alot of money for. But one's no good without the other. You have to haveboth, if you understand my meaning, sir. "

"I see. Like filling a straight flush, what?"

"Precisely, sir. "

Archie gazed at Pongo again, with the dim hope of discovering virtuesnot immediately apparent to the casual observer. But without success. Pongo left him cold--even chilly. He would not have taken Pongo as agift, to oblige a dying friend. 

"How much would the pair be worth?" he asked. "Ten dollars?"

Parker smiled a gravely superior smile. "A leetle more than that, sir. Several thousand dollars, more like it. "

"Do you mean to say, " said Archie, with honest amazement, "that thereare chumps going about loose--absolutely loose--who would pay that for aweird little object like Pongo?"

"Undoubtedly, sir. These antique china figures are in great demand amongcollectors. "

Archie looked at Pongo once more, and shook his head. 

"Well, well, well! It takes all sorts to make a world, what!"

What might be called the revival of Pongo, the restoration of Pongo tothe ranks of the things that matter, took place several weeks later, when Archie was making holiday at the house which his father-in-law hadtaken for the summer at Brookport. The curtain of the second act may besaid to rise on Archie strolling back from the golf-links in the cool ofan August evening. From time to time he sang slightly, and wonderedidly if Lucille would put the finishing touch upon the all-rightness ofeverything by coming to meet him and sharing his homeward walk. 

She came in view at this moment, a trim little figure in a white skirtand a pale blue sweater. She waved to Archie; and Archie, as alwaysat the sight of her, was conscious of that jumpy, fluttering sensationabout the heart, which, translated into words, would have formed thequestion, "What on earth could have made a girl like that fall in lovewith a chump like me?" It was a question which he was continually askinghimself, and one which was perpetually in the mind also of Mr. Brewster, his father-in-law. The matter of Archie's unworthiness to be the husbandof Lucille was practically the only one on which the two men saw eye toeye. 

"Hallo--allo--allo!" said Archie. "Here we are, what! I was just hopingyou would drift over the horizon. "

Lucille kissed him. 

"You're a darling, " she said. "And you look like a Greek god in thatsuit. "

"Glad you like it. " Archie squinted with some complacency down hischest. "I always say it doesn't matter what you pay for a suit, so longas it's right. I hope your jolly old father will feel that way when hesettles up for it. "

"Where is father? Why didn't he come back with you?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, he didn't seem any too keen on my company. I left him in the locker-room chewing a cigar. Gave me the impression ofhaving something on his mind. "

"Oh, Archie! You didn't beat him AGAIN?"

Archie looked uncomfortable. He gazed out to sea with something ofembarrassment. 

"Well, as a matter of fact, old thing, to be absolutely frank, I, as itwere, did!"

"Not badly?"

"Well, yes! I rather fancy I put it across him with some vim and nota little emphasis. To be perfectly accurate, I licked him by ten andeight. "

"But you promised me you would let him beat you to-day. You know howpleased it would have made him. "

"I know. But, light of my soul, have you any idea how dashed difficultit is to get beaten by your festive parent at golf?"

"Oh, well!" Lucille sighed. "It can't be helped, I suppose. " She felt inthe pocket of her sweater. "Oh, there's a letter for you. I've justbeen to fetch the mail. I don't know who it can be from. The handwritinglooks like a vampire's. Kind of scrawly. "

Archie inspected the envelope. It provided no solution. 

"That's rummy! Who could be writing to me?"

"Open it and see. "

"Dashed bright scheme! I will, Herbert Parker. Who the deuce is HerbertParker?"

"Parker? Father's valet's name was Parker. The one he dismissed when hefound he was wearing his shirts. "

"Do you mean to say any reasonable chappie would willingly wear thesort of shirts your father--? I mean to say, there must have been somemistake. "

"Do read the letter. I expect he wants to use your influence with fatherto have him taken back. "

"MY influence? With your FATHER? Well, I'm dashed. Sanguine sort ofJohnny, if he does. Well, here's what he says. Of course, I rememberjolly old Parker now--great pal of mine. "

 Dear Sir, --It is some time since the undersigned had the honour of conversing with you, but I am respectfully trusting that you may recall me to mind when I mention that until recently I served Mr. Brewster, your father-in-law, in the capacity of valet. Owing to an unfortunate misunderstanding, I was dismissed from that position and am now temporarily out of a job. "How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!" (Isaiah xiv. 12. )

"You know, " said Archie, admiringly, "this bird is hot stuff! I mean tosay he writes dashed well. "

 It is not, however, with my own affairs that I desire to trouble you, dear sir. I have little doubt that all will be well with me and that I shall not fall like a sparrow to the ground. "I have been young and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread" (Psalms xxxvii. 25). My object in writing to you is as follows. You may recall that I had the pleasure of meeting you one morning in Mr. Brewster's suite, when we had an interesting talk on the subject of Mr. B. 's objets d'art. You may recall being particularly interested in a small china figure. To assist your memory, the figure to which I allude is the one which you whimsically referred to as Pongo. I informed you, if you remember, that, could the accompanying figure be secured, the pair would be extremely valuable. 

 I am glad to say, dear sir? that this has now transpired, and is on view at Beale's Art Galleries on West Forty-Fifty Street, where it will be sold to-morrow at auction, the sale commencing at two-thirty sharp. If Mr. Brewster cares to attend, he will, I fancy, have little trouble in securing it at a reasonable price. I confess that I had thought of refraining from apprising my late employer of this matter, but more Christian feelings have prevailed. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head" (Romans xii. 20). Nor, I must confess, am I altogether uninfluenced by the thought that my action in this matter may conceivably lead to Mr. B. Consenting to forget the past and to reinstate me in my former position. However, I am confident that I can leave this to his good feeling. 

 I remain, respectfully yours, Herbert Parker. 

Lucille clapped her hands. 

"How splendid! Father will be pleased!"

"Yes. Friend Parker has certainly found a way to make the old dad fondof him. Wish I could!"

"But you can, silly! He'll be delighted when you show him that letter. "

"Yes, with Parker. Old Herb. Parker's is the neck he'll fall on--notmine. "

Lucille reflected. 

"I wish--" she began. She stopped. Her eyes lit up. "Oh, Archie, darling, I've got an idea!"

"Decant it. "

"Why don't you slip up to New York to-morrow and buy the thing, and giveit to father as a surprise?"

Archie patted her hand kindly. He hated to spoil her girlish day-dreams. 

"Yes, " he said. "But reflect, queen of my heart! I have at the moment ofgoing to press just two dollars fifty in specie, which I took off yourfather this after-noon. We were playing twenty-five cents a Hole. He coughed it up without enthusiasm--in fact, with a nasty hackingsound--but I've got it. But that's all I have got. "

"That's all right. You can pawn that ring and that bracelet of mine. "

"Oh, I say, what! Pop the family jewels?"

"Only for a day or two. Of course, once you've got the thing, fatherwill pay us back. He would give you all the money we asked him for, ifhe knew what it was for. But I want to surprise him. And if you were togo to him and ask him for a thousand dollars without telling him what itwas for, he might refuse. "

"He might!" said Archie. "He might!"

"It all works out splendidly. To-morrow's the Invitation Handicap, andfather's been looking forward to it for weeks. He'd hate to have to goup to town himself and not play in it. But you can slip up and slip backwithout his knowing anything about it. "

Archie pondered. 

"It sounds a ripe scheme. Yes, it has all the ear-marks of a somewhatfruity wheeze! By Jove, it IS a fruity wheeze! It's an egg!"

"An egg?"

"Good egg, you know. Halloa, here's a postscript. I didn't see it. "

 P. S. --I should be glad if you would convey my most cordial respects to Mrs. Moffam. Will you also inform her that I chanced to meet Mr. William this morning on Broadway, just off the boat. He desired me to send his regards and to say that he would be joining you at Brookport in the course of a day or so. Mr. B. Will be pleased to have him back. "A wise son maketh a glad father" (Proverbs x. 1). 

"Who's Mr. William?" asked Archie. 

"My brother Bill, of course. I've told you all about him. "

"Oh yes, of course. Your brother Bill. Rummy to think I've got abrother-in-law I've never seen. "

"You see, we married so suddenly. When we married, Bill was in Yale. "

"Good God! What for?"

"Not jail, silly. Yale. The university. "

"Oh, ah, yes. "

"Then he went over to Europe for a trip to broaden his mind. You mustlook him up to-morrow when you get back to New York. He's sure to be athis club. "

"I'll make a point of it. Well, vote of thanks to good old Parker! Thisreally does begin to look like the point in my career where I start tohave your forbidding old parent eating out of my hand. "

"Yes, it's an egg, isn't it!"

"Queen of my soul, " said Archie enthusiastically, "it's an omelette!"

The business negotiations in connection with the bracelet and the ringoccupied Archie on his arrival in New York to an extent which made itimpossible for him to call on Brother Bill before lunch. He decided topostpone the affecting meeting of brothers-in-law to a more convenientseason, and made his way to his favourite table at the Cosmopolisgrill-room for a bite of lunch preliminary to the fatigues of the sale. He found Salvatore hovering about as usual, and instructed him to cometo the rescue with a minute steak. 

Salvatore was the dark, sinister-looking waiter who attended, amongother tables, to the one at the far end of the grill-room at whichArchie usually sat. For several weeks Archie's conversations with theother had dealt exclusively with the bill of fare and its contents; butgradually he had found himself becoming more personal. Even before thewar and its democratising influences, Archie had always lacked thatreserve which characterises many Britons; and since the war he hadlooked on nearly everyone he met as a brother. Long since, through themedium of a series of friendly chats, he had heard all about Salvatore'shome in Italy, the little newspaper and tobacco shop which his motherowned down on Seventh Avenue, and a hundred other personal details. Archie had an insatiable curiosity about his fellow-man. 

"Well done, " said Archie. 

"Sare?"

"The steak. Not too rare, you know. "

"Very good, sare. "

Archie looked at the waiter closely. His tone had been subdued and sad. Of course, you don't expect a waiter to beam all over his face and givethree rousing cheers simply because you have asked him to bring you aminute steak, but still there was something about Salvatore's mannerthat disturbed Archie. The man appeared to have the pip. Whether he wasmerely homesick and brooding on the lost delights of his sunnynative land, or whether his trouble was more definite, could only beascertained by enquiry. So Archie enquired. 

"What's the matter, laddie?" he said sympathetically. "Something on yourmind?"

"Sare?"

"I say, there seems to be something on your mind. What's the trouble?"

The waiter shrugged his shoulders, as if indicating an unwillingness toinflict his grievances on one of the tipping classes. 

"Come on!" persisted Archie encouragingly. "All pals here. Barge alone, old thing, and let's have it. "

Salvatore, thus admonished, proceeded in a hurried undertone--with oneeye on the headwaiter--to lay bare his soul. What he said was not verycoherent, but Archie could make out enough of it to gather that it was asad story of excessive hours and insufficient pay. He mused awhile. Thewaiter's hard case touched him. 

"I'll tell you what, " he said at last. "When jolly old Brewster coniesback to town--he's away just now--I'll take you along to him and we'llbeard the old boy in his den. I'll introduce you, and you get thatextract from Italian opera-off your chest which you've just been singingto me, and you'll find it'll be all right. He isn't what you might callone of my greatest admirers, but everybody says he's a square sort ofcove and he'll see you aren't snootered. And now, laddie, touching thematter of that steak. "

The waiter disappeared, greatly cheered, and Archie, turning, perceivedthat his friend Reggie van Tuyl was entering the room. He waved to himto join his table. He liked Reggie, and it also occurred to him that aman of the world like the heir of the van Tuyls, who had been poppingabout New York for years, might be able to give him some much-neededinformation on the procedure at an auction sale, a matter on which hehimself was profoundly ignorant. 

CHAPTER X. DOING FATHER A BIT OF GOOD

Reggie Van Tuyl approached the table languidly, and sank down into achair. He was a long youth with a rather subdued and deflated look, as though the burden of the van Tuyl millions was more than his frailstrength could support. Most things tired him. 

"I say, Reggie, old top, " said Archie, "you're just the lad I wanted tosee. I require the assistance of a blighter of ripe intellect. Tell me, laddie, do you know anything about sales?"

Reggie eyed him sleepily. 

"Sales?"

"Auction sales. "

Reggie considered. 

"Well, they're sales, you know. " He checked a yawn. "Auction sales, youunderstand. "

"Yes, " said Archie encouragingly. "Something--the name orsomething--seemed to tell me that. "

"Fellows put things up for sale you know, and other fellows--otherfellows go in and--and buy 'em, if you follow me. "

"Yes, but what's the procedure? I mean, what do I do? That's what I'mafter. I've got to buy something at Beale's this afternoon. How do I setabout it?"

"Well, " said Reggie, drowsily, "there are several ways of bidding, youknow. You can shout, or you can nod, or you can twiddle your fingers--"The effort of concentration was too much for him. He leaned back limplyin his chair. "I'll tell you what. I've nothing to do this afternoon. I'll come with you and show you. "

When he entered the Art Galleries a few minutes later, Archie was gladof the moral support of even such a wobbly reed as Reggie van Tuyl. There is something about an auction room which weighs heavily upon thenovice. The hushed interior was bathed in a dim, religious light; andthe congregation, seated on small wooden chairs, gazed in reverentsilence at the pulpit, where a gentleman of commanding presence andsparkling pince-nez was delivering a species of chant. Behind a goldcurtain at the end of the room mysterious forms flitted to and fro. Archie, who had been expecting something on the lines of the New YorkStock Exchange, which he had once been privileged to visit when it wasin a more than usually feverish mood, found the atmosphere oppressivelyecclesiastical. He sat down and looked about him. The presiding priestwent on with his chant. 

"Sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen--worth threehundred--sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen--ought to bring fivehundred--sixteen-sixteen-seventeen-seventeen-eighteen-eighteennineteen-nineteen-nineteen. "

He stopped and eyed the worshippers with a glittering and reproachfuleye. They had, it seemed, disappointed him. His lips curled, and hewaved a hand towards a grimly uncomfortable-looking chair with insecurelegs and a good deal of gold paint about it. "Gentlemen! Ladies andgentlemen! You are not here to waste my time; I am not here towaste yours. Am I seriously offered nineteen dollars for thiseighteenth-century chair, acknowledged to be the finest piece soldin New York for months and months? Am I--twenty? I thank you. Twenty-twenty-twenty-twenty. YOUR opportunity! Priceless. Very fewextant. Twenty-five-five-five-five-thirty-thirty. Just whatyou are looking for. The only one in the City of New York. Thirty-five-five-five-five. Forty-forty-forty-forty-forty. Look at thoselegs! Back it into the light, Willie. Let the light fall on those legs!"

Willie, a sort of acolyte, manoeuvred the chair as directed. Reggie vanTuyl, who had been yawning in a hopeless sort of way, showed his firstflicker of interest. 

"Willie, " he observed, eyeing that youth more with pity than reproach, "has a face like Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy, don't you think so?"

Archie nodded briefly. Precisely the same criticism had occurred to him. 

"Forty-five-five-five-five-five, " chanted the high-priest. "Onceforty-five. Twice forty-five. Third and last call, forty-five. Sold atforty-five. Gentleman in the fifth row. "

Archie looked up and down the row with a keen eye. He was anxious tosee who had been chump enough to give forty-five dollars for sucha frightful object. He became aware of the dog-faced Willie leaningtowards him. 

"Name, please?" said the canine one. 

"Eh, what?" said Archie. "Oh, my name's Moffam, don't you know. " Theeyes of the multitude made him feel a little nervous "Er--glad to meetyou and all that sort of rot. "

"Ten dollars deposit, please, " said Willie. 

"I don't absolutely follow you, old bean. What is the big thought at theback of all this?"

"Ten dollars deposit on the chair. "

"What chair?"

"You bid forty-five dollars for the chair. "

"Me?"

"You nodded, " said Willie, accusingly. "If, " he went on, reasoningclosely, "you didn't want to bid, why did you nod?"

Archie was embarrassed. He could, of course, have pointed out that hehad merely nodded in adhesion to the statement that the other had a facelike Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy; but something seemed to tell him thata purist might consider the excuse deficient in tact. He hesitateda moment, then handed over a ten-dollar bill, the price of Willie'sfeelings. Willie withdrew like a tiger slinking from the body of itsvictim. 

"I say, old thing, " said Archie to Reggie, "this is a bit thick, youknow. No purse will stand this drain. "

Reggie considered the matter. His face seemed drawn under the mentalstrain. 

"Don't nod again, " he advised. "If you aren't careful, you get intothe habit of it. When you want to bid, just twiddle your fingers. Yes, that's the thing. Twiddle!"

He sighed drowsily. The atmosphere of the auction room was close; youweren't allowed to smoke; and altogether he was beginning to regret thathe had come. The service continued. Objects of varying unattractivenesscame and went, eulogised by the officiating priest, but coldly receivedby the congregation. Relations between the former and the latter weregrowing more and more distant. The congregation seemed to suspect thepriest of having an ulterior motive in his eulogies, and the priestseemed to suspect the congregation of a frivolous desire to waste histime. He had begun to speculate openly as to why they were there at all. Once, when a particularly repellent statuette of a nude female with anunwholesome green skin had been offered at two dollars and had found nobidders--the congregation appearing silently grateful for his statementthat it was the only specimen of its kind on the continent--he hadspecifically accused them of having come into the auction room merelywith the purpose of sitting down and taking the weight off their feet. 

"If your thing--your whatever-it-is, doesn't come up soon, Archie, " saidReggie, fighting off with an effort the mists of sleep, "I rather thinkI shall be toddling along. What was it you came to get?"

"It's rather difficult to describe. It's a rummy-looking sort ofwhat-not, made of china or something. I call it Pongo. At least, thisone isn't Pongo, don't you know--it's his little brother, but presumablyequally foul in every respect. It's all rather complicated, I know, but--hallo!" He pointed excitedly. "By Jove! We're off! There it is!Look! Willie's unleasing it now!"

Willie, who had disappeared through the gold curtain, had now returned, and was placing on a pedestal a small china figure of delicateworkmanship. It was the figure of a warrior in a suit of armouradvancing with raised spear upon an adversary. A thrill permeatedArchie's frame. Parker had not been mistaken. This was undoubtedly thecompanion-figure to the redoubtable Pongo. The two were identical. Evenfrom where he sat Archie could detect on the features of the figure onthe pedestal the same expression of insufferable complacency which hadalienated his sympathies from the original Pongo. 

The high-priest, undaunted by previous rebuffs, regarded the figurewith a gloating enthusiasm wholly unshared by the congregation, who wereplainly looking upon Pongo's little brother as just another of thosethings. 

"This, " he said, with a shake in his voice, "is something very special. China figure, said to date back to the Ming Dynasty. Unique. Nothinglike it on either side of the Atlantic. If I were selling this atChristie's in London, where people, " he said, nastily, "have an educatedappreciation of the beautiful, the rare, and the exquisite, I shouldstart the bidding at a thousand dollars. This afternoon's experience hastaught me that that might possibly be too high. " His pince-nez sparkledmilitantly, as he gazed upon the stolid throng. "Will anyone offer me adollar for this unique figure?"

"Leap at it, old top, " said Reggie van Tuyl. "Twiddle, dear boy, twiddle! A dollar's reasonable. "

Archie twiddled. 

"One dollar I am offered, " said the high-priest, bitterly. "Onegentleman here is not afraid to take a chance. One gentleman here knowsa good thing when he sees one. " He abandoned the gently sarcastic mannerfor one of crisp and direct reproach. "Come, come, gentlemen, we are nothere to waste time. Will anyone offer me one hundred dollars forthis superb piece of--" He broke off, and seemed for a moment almostunnerved. He stared at someone in one of the seats in front of Archie. "Thank you, " he said, with a sort of gulp. "One hundred dollars I amoffered! One hundred--one hundred--one hundred--"

Archie was startled. This sudden, tremendous jump, this whollyunforeseen boom in Pongos, if one might so describe it, was more thana little disturbing. He could not see who his rival was, but it wasevident that at least one among those present did not intend to allowPongo's brother to slip by without a fight. He looked helplessly atReggie for counsel, but Reggie had now definitely given up the struggle. Exhausted nature had done its utmost, and now he was leaning backwith closed eyes, breathing softly through his nose. Thrown on his ownresources, Archie could think of no better course than to twiddle hisfingers again. He did so, and the high-priest's chant took on a note ofpositive exuberance. 

"Two hundred I am offered. Much better! Turn the pedestal round, Willie, and let them look at it. Slowly! Slowly! You aren't spinning aroulette-wheel. Two hundred. Two-two-two-two-two. " He became suddenlylyrical. "Two-two-two--There was a young lady named Lou, who wascatching a train at two-two. Said the porter, 'Don't worry or hurry orscurry. It's a minute or two to two-two!' Two-two-two-two-two!"

Archie's concern increased. He seemed to be twiddling at this volubleman across seas of misunderstanding. Nothing is harder to interpret to anicety than a twiddle, and Archie's idea of the language of twiddlesand the high-priest's idea did not coincide by a mile. The high-priestappeared to consider that, when Archie twiddled, it was his intentionto bid in hundreds, whereas in fact Archie had meant to signify that heraised the previous bid by just one dollar. Archie felt that, if giventime, he could make this clear to the high-priest, but the latter gavehim no time. He had got his audience, so to speak, on the run, and heproposed to hustle them before they could rally. 

"Two hundred--two hundred--two--three--thank you, sir--three-three-three-four-four-five-five-six-six-seven-seven-seven--"

Archie sat limply in his wooden chair. He was conscious of a feelingwhich he had only experienced twice in his life--once when he had takenhis first lesson in driving a motor and had trodden on the acceleratorinstead of the brake; the second time more recently, when he had madehis first down-trip on an express lift. He had now precisely the samesensation of being run away with by an uncontrollable machine, and ofhaving left most of his internal organs at some little distance from therest of his body. Emerging from this welter of emotion, stood out theone clear fact that, be the opposition bidding what it might, hemust nevertheless secure the prize. Lucille had sent him to New Yorkexpressly to do so. She had sacrificed her jewellery for the cause. Sherelied on him. The enterprise had become for Archie something almostsacred. He felt dimly like a knight of old hot on the track of the HolyGrail. 

He twiddled again. The ring and the bracelet had fetched nearly twelvehundred dollars. Up to that figure his hat was in the ring. 

"Eight hundred I am offered. Eight hundred. Eight-eight-eight-eight--"

A voice spoke from somewhere at the back of the room. A quiet, cold, nasty, determined voice. 

"Nine!"

Archie rose from his seat and spun round. This mean attack from the rearstung his fighting spirit. As he rose, a young man sitting immediatelyin front of him rose too and stared likewise. He was a square-builtresolute-looking young man, who reminded Archie vaguely of somebody hehad seen before. But Archie was too busy trying to locate the man at theback to pay much attention to him. He detected him at last, owing to thefact that the eyes of everybody in that part of the room were fixedupon him. He was a small man of middle age, with tortoise-shell-rimmedspectacles. He might have been a professor or something of the kind. Whatever he was, he was obviously a man to be reckoned with. He had arich sort of look, and his demeanour was the demeanour of a man who isprepared to fight it out on these lines if it takes all the summer. 

"Nine hundred I am offered. Nine-nine-nine-nine--"

Archie glared defiantly at the spectacled man. 

"A thousand!" he cried. 

The irruption of high finance into the placid course of the afternoon'sproceedings had stirred the congregation out of its lethargy. Therewere excited murmurs. Necks were craned, feet shuffled. As for thehigh-priest, his cheerfulness was now more than restored, and his faithin his fellow-man had soared from the depths to a very lofty altitude. He beamed with approval. Despite the warmth of his praise he would havebeen quite satisfied to see Pongo's little brother go at twenty dollars, and the reflection that the bidding had already reached one thousand andthat his commission was twenty per cent, had engendered a mood of sunnyhappiness. 

"One thousand is bid!" he carolled. "Now, gentlemen, I don't want tohurry you over this. You are all connoisseurs here, and you don't wantto see a priceless china figure of the Ming Dynasty get away from youat a sacrifice price. Perhaps you can't all see the figure where itis. Willie, take it round and show it to 'em. We'll take a littleintermission while you look carefully at this wonderful figure. Get amove on, Willie! Pick up your feet!"

Archie, sitting dazedly, was aware that Reggie van Tuyl had finished hisbeauty sleep and was addressing the young man in the seat in front. 

"Why, hallo, " said Reggie. "I didn't know you were back. You rememberme, don't you? Reggie van Tuyl. I know your sister very well. Archie, old man, I want you to meet my friend, Bill Brewster. Why, dash it!" Hechuckled sleepily. "I was forgetting. Of course! He's your--"

"How are you?" said the young man. "Talking of my sister, " he said toReggie, "I suppose you haven't met her husband by any chance? I supposeyou know she married some awful chump?"

"Me, " said Archie. 

"How's that?"

"I married your sister. My name's Moffam. "

The young man seemed a trifle taken aback. 

"Sorry, " he said. 

"Not at all, " said Archie. 

"I was only going by what my father said in his letters, " he explained, in extenuation. 

Archie nodded. 

"I'm afraid your jolly old father doesn't appreciate me. But I'm hopingfor the best. If I can rope in that rummy-looking little china thingthat Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy is showing the customers, he will be allover me. I mean to say, you know, he's got another like it, and, ifhe can get a full house, as it were, I'm given to understand he'll bebucked, cheered, and even braced. "

The young man stared. 

"Are YOU the fellow who's been bidding against me?"

"Eh, what? Were you bidding against ME?"

"I wanted to buy the thing for my father. I've a special reason forwanting to get in right with him just now. Are you buying it for him, too?"

"Absolutely. As a surprise. It was Lucille's idea. His valet, a chappienamed Parker, tipped us off that the thing was to be sold. "

"Parker? Great Scot! It was Parker who tipped ME off. I met him onBroadway, and he told me about it. "

"Rummy he never mentioned it in his letter to me. Why, dash it, we couldhave got the thing for about two dollars if we had pooled our bids. "

"Well, we'd better pool them now, and extinguish that pill at the backthere. I can't go above eleven hundred. That's all I've got. "

"I can't go above eleven hundred myself. "

"There's just one thing. I wish you'd let me be the one to hand thething over to Father. I've a special reason for wanting to make a hitwith him. "

"Absolutely!" said Archie, magnanimously. "It's all the same to me. Ionly wanted to get him generally braced, as it were, if you know what Imean. "

"That's awfully good of you. "

"Not a bit, laddie, no, no, and far from it. Only too glad. "

Willie had returned from his rambles among the connoisseurs, and Pongo'sbrother was back on his pedestal. The high-priest cleared his throat andresumed his discourse. 

"Now that you have all seen this superb figure we will--I was offeredone thousand--one thousand-one-one-one-one--eleven hundred. Thank you, sir. Eleven hundred I am offered. "

The high-priest was now exuberant. You could see him doing figures inhis head. 

"You do the bidding, " said Brother Bill. 

"Right-o!" said Archie. 

He waved a defiant hand. 

"Thirteen, " said the man at the back. 

"Fourteen, dash it!"

"Fifteen!"

"Sixteen!"

"Seventeen!"

"Eighteen!"

"Nineteen!"

"Two thousand!"

The high-priest did everything but sing. He radiated good will andbonhomie. 

"Two thousand I am offered. Is there any advance on two thousand? Come, gentlemen, I don't want to give this superb figure away. Twenty-onehundred. Twenty-one-one-one-one. This is more the sort of thing I havebeen accustomed to. When I was at Sotheby's Rooms in London, this kindof bidding was a common-place. Twenty-two-two-two-two-two. One hardlynoticed it. Three-three-three. Twenty-three-three-three. Twenty-threehundred dollars I am offered. "

He gazed expectantly at Archie, as a man gazes at some favourite dogwhom he calls upon to perform a trick. But Archie had reached the end ofhis tether. The hand that had twiddled so often and so bravely lay inertbeside his trouser-leg, twitching feebly. Archie was through. 

"Twenty-three hundred, " said the high-priest, ingratiatingly. 

Archie made no movement. There was a tense pause. The high-priest gave alittle sigh, like one waking from a beautiful dream. 

"Twenty-three hundred, " he said. "Once twenty-three. Twice twenty-three. Third, last, and final call, twenty-three. Sold at twenty-three hundred. I congratulate you, sir, on a genuine bargain!"

Reggie van Tuyl had dozed off again. Archie tapped his brother-in-law onthe shoulder. 

"May as well be popping, what?"

They threaded their way sadly together through the crowd, and made forthe street. They passed into Fifth Avenue without breaking the silence. 

"Bally nuisance, " said Archie, at last. 

"Rotten!"

"Wonder who that chappie was?"

"Some collector, probably. "

"Well, it can't be helped, " said Archie. 

Brother Bill attached himself to Archie's arm, and became communicative. 

"I didn't want to mention it in front of van Tuyl, " he said, "becausehe's such a talking-machine, and it would have been all over New Yorkbefore dinner-time. But you're one of the family, and you can keep asecret. "

"Absolutely! Silent tomb and what not. "

"The reason I wanted that darned thing was because I've just got engagedto a girl over in England, and I thought that, if I could hand my fatherthat china figure-thing with one hand and break the news with the other, it might help a bit. She's the most wonderful girl!"

"I'll bet she is, " said Archie, cordially. 

"The trouble is she's in the chorus of one of the revues over there, and Father is apt to kick. So I thought--oh, well, it's no good worryingnow. Come along where it's quiet, and I'll tell you all about her. "

"That'll be jolly, " said Archie. 

CHAPTER XI. SALVATORE CHOOSES THE WRONG MOMENT

Archie reclaimed the family jewellery from its temporary home nextmorning; and, having done so, sauntered back to the Cosmopolis. Hewas surprised, on entering the lobby, to meet his father-in-law. Moresurprising still, Mr. Brewster was manifestly in a mood of extraordinarygeniality. Archie could hardly believe his eyes when the other wavedcheerily to him--nor his ears a moment later when Mr. Brewster, addressing him as "my boy, " asked him how he was and mentioned that theday was a warm one. 

Obviously this jovial frame of mind must be taken advantage of; andArchie's first thought was of the downtrodden Salvatore, to the tale ofwhose wrongs he had listened so sympathetically on the previous day. Nowwas plainly the moment for the waiter to submit his grievance, beforesome ebb-tide caused the milk of human kindness to flow out of DanielBrewster. With a swift "Cheerio!" in his father-in-law's direction, Archie bounded into the grill-room. Salvatore, the hour for luncheonbeing imminent but not yet having arrived, was standing against the farwall in an attitude of thought. 

"Laddie!" cried Archie. 

"Sare?"

"A most extraordinary thing has happened. Good old Brewster has suddenlypopped up through a trap and is out in the lobby now. And what's stillmore weird, he's apparently bucked. "

"Sare?"

"Braced, you know. In the pink. Pleased about something. If you go tohim now with that yarn of yours, you can't fail. He'll kiss you on bothcheeks and give you his bank-roll and collar-stud. Charge along and askthe head-waiter if you can have ten minutes off. "

Salvatore vanished in search of the potentate named, and Archie returnedto the lobby to bask in the unwonted sunshine. 

"Well, well, well, what!" he said. "I thought you were at Brookport. "

"I came up this morning to meet a friend of mine, " replied Mr. Brewstergenially. "Professor Binstead. "

"Don't think I know him. "

"Very interesting man, " said Mr. Brewster, still with the same uncannyamiability. "He's a dabbler in a good many things--science, phrenology, antiques. I asked him to bid for me at a sale yesterday. There was alittle china figure--"

Archie's jaw fell. 

"China figure?" he stammered feebly. 

"Yes. The companion to one you may have noticed on my mantelpieceupstairs. I have been trying to get the pair of them for years. I shouldnever have heard of this one if it had not been for that valet of mine, Parker. Very good of him to let me know of it, considering I had firedhim. Ah, here is Binstead. "-He moved to greet the small, middle-agedman with the tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles who was bustling across thelobby. "Well, Binstead, so you got it?"

"Yes. "

"I suppose the price wasn't particularly stiff?"

"Twenty-three hundred. "

"Twenty-three hundred!" Mr. Brewster seemed to reel in his tracks. "Twenty-three HUNDRED!"

"You gave me carte blanche. "

"Yes, but twenty-three hundred!"

"I could have got it for a few dollars, but unfortunately I was a littlelate, and, when I arrived, some young fool had bid it up to a thousand, and he stuck to me till I finally shook him off at twenty-three hundred. Why, this is the very man! Is he a friend of yours?"

Archie coughed. 

"More a relation than a friend, what? Son-in-law, don't you know!"

Mr. Brewster's amiability had vanished. 

"What damned foolery have you been up to NOW?" he demanded. "Can't Imove a step without stubbing my toe on you? Why the devil did you bid?"

"We thought it would be rather a fruity scheme. We talked it over andcame to the conclusion that it was an egg. Wanted to get hold of therummy little object, don't you know, and surprise you. "

"Who's we?"

"Lucille and I. "

"But how did you hear of it at all?"

"Parker, the valet-chappie, you know, wrote me a letter about it. "

"Parker! Didn't he tell you that he had told me the figure was to besold?"

"Absolutely not!" A sudden suspicion came to Archie. He was normally aguileless young man, but even to him the extreme fishiness of the partplayed by Herbert Parker had become apparent. "I say, you know, it looksto me as if friend Parker had been having us all on a bit, what? Imean to say it was jolly old Herb, who tipped your son off--Bill, youknow--to go and bid for the thing. "

"Bill! Was Bill there?"

"Absolutely in person! We were bidding against each other like thedickens till we managed to get together and get acquainted. And thenthis bird--this gentleman--sailed in and started to slip it across us. "

Professor Binstead chuckled--the care-free chuckle of a man who seesall those around him smitten in the pocket, while he himself remainsuntouched. 

"A very ingenious rogue, this Parker of yours, Brewster. His methodseems to have been simple but masterly. I have no doubt that either heor a confederate obtained the figure and placed it with the auctioneer, and then he ensured a good price for it by getting us all to bid againsteach other. Very ingenious!"

Mr. Brewster struggled with his feelings. Then he seemed to overcomethem and to force himself to look on the bright side. 

"Well, anyway, " he said. "I've got the pair of figures, and that's whatI wanted. Is that it in that parcel?"

"This is it. I wouldn't trust an express company to deliver it. Supposewe go up to your room and see how the two look side by side. "

They crossed the lobby to the lift. -The cloud was still on Mr. Brewster's brow as they stepped out and made their way to his suite. Like most men who have risen from poverty to wealth by theirown exertions, Mr. Brewster objected to parting with his moneyunnecessarily, and it was plain that that twenty-three hundred dollarsstill rankled. 

Mr. Brewster unlocked the door and crossed the room. Then, suddenly, hehalted, stared, and stared again. He sprang to the bell and pressed it, then stood gurgling wordlessly. 

"Anything wrong, old bean?" queried Archie, solicitously. 

"Wrong! Wrong! It's gone!"

"Gone?"

"The figure!"

The floor-waiter had manifested himself silently in answer to the bell, and was standing in the doorway. 

"Simmons!" Mr. Brewster turned to him wildly. "Has anyone been in thissuite since I went away?"

"No, sir. "

"Nobody?"

"Nobody except your valet, sir--Parker. He said he had come tofetch some things away. I supposed he had come from you, sir, withinstructions. "

"Get out!"

Professor Binstead had unwrapped his parcel, and had placed the Pongoon the table. There was a weighty silence. Archie picked up the littlechina figure and balanced it on the palm of his hand. It was a smallthing, he reflected philosophically, but it had made quite a stir in theworld. 

Mr. Brewster fermented for a while without speaking. 

"So, " he said, at last, in a voice trembling with self-pity, "I havebeen to all this trouble--"

"And expense, " put in Professor Binstead, gently. 

"Merely to buy back something which had been stolen from me! And, owingto your damned officiousness, " he cried, turning on Archie, "I have hadto pay twenty-three hundred dollars for it! I don't know why they makesuch a fuss about Job. Job never had anything like you around!"

"Of course, " argued Archie, "he had one or two boils. "

"Boils! What are boils?"

"Dashed sorry, " murmured Archie. "Acted for the best. Meant well. Andall that sort of rot!"

Professor Binstead's mind seemed occupied to the exclusion of all otheraspects of the affair, with the ingenuity of the absent Parker. 

"A cunning scheme!" he said. "A very cunning scheme! This man Parkermust have a brain of no low order. I should like to feel his bumps!"

"I should like to give him some!" said the stricken Mr. Brewster. Hebreathed a deep breath. "Oh, well, " he said, "situated as I am, with acrook valet and an imbecile son-in-law, I suppose I ought to bethankful that I've still got my own property, even if I have had topay twenty-three hundred dollars for the privilege of keeping it. " Herounded on Archie, who was in a reverie. The thought of the unfortunateBill had just crossed Archie's mind. It would be many moons, manyweary moons, before Mr. Brewster would be in a suitable mood to listensympathetically to the story of love's young dream. "Give me thatfigure!"

Archie continued to toy absently with Pongo. He was wondering nowhow best to break this sad occurrence to Lucille. It would be adisappointment for the poor girl. 

"GIVE ME THAT FIGURE!"

Archie started violently. There was an instant in which Pongo seemed tohang suspended, like Mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth, thenthe force of gravity asserted itself. Pongo fell with a sharp crack anddisintegrated. And as it did so there was a knock at the door, and inwalked a dark, furtive person, who to the inflamed vision of Mr. DanielBrewster looked like something connected with the executive staff of theBlack Hand. With all time at his disposal, the unfortunate Salvatore hadselected this moment for stating his case. 

"Get out!" bellowed Mr. Brewster. "I didn't ring for a waiter. "

Archie, his mind reeling beneath the catastrophe, recovered himselfsufficiently to do the honours. It was at his instigation that Salvatorewas there, and, greatly as he wished that he could have seen fit tochoose a more auspicious moment for his business chat, he felt compelledto do his best to see him through. 

"Oh, I say, half a second, " he said. "You don't quite understand. Asa matter of fact, this chappie is by way of being downtrodden andoppressed and what not, and I suggested that he should get hold of youand speak a few well-chosen words. Of course, if you'd rather--someother time--"

But Mr. Brewster was not permitted to postpone the interview. Beforehe could get his breath, Salvatore had begun to talk. He was a strong, ambidextrous talker, whom it was hard to interrupt; and it was not forsome moments that Mr. Brewster succeeded in getting a word in. When hedid, he spoke to the point. Though not a linguist, he had been ableto follow the discourse closely enough to realise that the waiter wasdissatisfied with conditions in his hotel; and Mr. Brewster, as has beenindicated, had a short way with people who criticised the Cosmopolis. 

"You're fired!" said Mr. Brewster. 

"Oh, I say!" protested Archie. 

Salvatore muttered what sounded like a passage from Dante. 

"Fired!" repeated Mr. Brewster resolutely. "And I wish to heaven, " headded, eyeing his son-in-law malignantly, "I could fire you!"

"Well, " said Professor Binstead cheerfully, breaking the grim silencewhich followed this outburst, "if you will give me your cheque, Brewster, I think I will be going. Two thousand three hundred dollars. Make it open, if you will, and then I can run round the corner and cashit before lunch. That will be capital!"

CHAPTER XII. BRIGHT EYES--AND A FLY

The Hermitage (unrivalled scenery, superb cuisine, Daniel Brewster, proprietor) was a picturesque summer hotel in the green heart of themountains, built by Archie's father-in-law shortly after he assumedcontrol of the Cosmopolis. Mr. Brewster himself seldom went there, preferring to concentrate his attention on his New York establishment;and Archie and Lucille, breakfasting in the airy dining-room some tendays after the incidents recorded in the last chapter, had consequentlyto be content with two out of the three advertised attractions of theplace. Through the window at their side quite a slab of the unrivalledscenery was visible; some of the superb cuisine was already on thetable; and the fact that the eye searched in vain for Daniel Brewster, proprietor, filled Archie, at any rate, with no sense of aching loss. Hebore it with equanimity and even with positive enthusiasm. In Archie'sopinion, practically all a place needed to make it an earthly Paradisewas for Mr. Daniel Brewster to be about forty-seven miles away from it. 

It was at Lucille's suggestion that they had come to the Hermitage. Never a human sunbeam, Mr. Brewster had shown such a bleak front to theworld, and particularly to his son-in-law, in the days following thePongo incident, that Lucille had thought that he and Archie would for atime at least be better apart--a view with which her husband cordiallyagreed. He had enjoyed his stay at the Hermitage, and now he regardedthe eternal hills with the comfortable affection of a healthy man who isbreakfasting well. 

"It's going to be another perfectly topping day, " he observed, eyeingthe shimmering landscape, from which the morning mists were swiftlyshredding away like faint puffs of smoke. "Just the day you ought tohave been here. "

"Yes, it's too bad I've got to go. New York will be like an oven. "

"Put it off. "

"I can't, I'm afraid. I've a fitting. "

Archie argued no further. He was a married man of old enough standing toknow the importance of fittings. 

"Besides, " said Lucille, "I want to see father. " Archie repressed anexclamation of astonishment. "I'll be back to-morrow evening. You willbe perfectly happy. "

"Queen of my soul, you know I can't be happy with you away. You know--"

"Yes?" murmured Lucille, appreciatively. She never tired of hearingArchie say this sort of thing. 

Archie's voice had trailed off. He was looking across the room. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "What an awfully pretty woman!"

"Where?"

"Over there. Just coming in, I say, what wonderful eyes! I don't thinkI ever saw such eyes. Did you notice her eyes? Sort of flashing! Awfullypretty woman!"

Warm though the morning was, a suspicion of chill descended upon thebreakfast-table. A certain coldness seemed to come into Lucille's face. She could not always share Archie's fresh young enthusiasms. 

"Do you think so?"

"Wonderful figure, too!"

"Yes?"

"Well, what I mean to say, fair to medium, " said Archie, recovering acertain amount of that intelligence which raises man above the levelof the beasts of the field. "Not the sort of type I admire myself, ofcourse. "

"You know her, don't you?"

"Absolutely not and far from it, " said Archie, hastily. "Never met herin my life. "

"You've seen her on the stage. Her name's Vera Silverton. We saw herin--"

"Of course, yes. So we did. I say, I wonder what she's doing here?She ought to be in New York, rehearsing. I remember meetingwhat's-his-name--you know--chappie who writes plays and what not--GeorgeBenham--I remember meeting George Benham, and he told me she wasrehearsing in a piece of his called--I forget the name, but I know itwas called something or other. Well, why isn't she?"

"She probably lost her temper and broke her contract and came away. She's always doing that sort of thing. She's known for it. She must be ahorrid woman. "

"Yes. "

"I don't want to talk about her. She used to be married to someone, and she divorced him. And then she was married to someone else, and hedivorced her. And I'm certain her hair wasn't that colour two years ago, and I don't think a woman ought to make up like that, and her dress isall wrong for the country, and those pearls can't be genuine, and I hatethe way she rolls her eyes about, and pink doesn't suit her a bit. Ithink she's an awful woman, and I wish you wouldn't keep on talkingabout her. "

"Right-o!" said Archie, dutifully. 

They finished breakfast, and Lucille went up to pack her bag. Archiestrolled out on to the terrace outside the hotel, where he smoked, communed with nature, and thought of Lucille. He always thought ofLucille when he was alone, especially when he chanced to find himselfin poetic surroundings like those provided by the unrivalled sceneryencircling the Hotel Hermitage. The longer he was married to her themore did the sacred institution seem to him a good egg. Mr. Brewstermight regard their marriage as one of the world's most unfortunateincidents, but to Archie it was, and always had been, a bit of allright. The more he thought of it the more did he marvel that a girl likeLucille should have been content to link her lot with that of a Class Cspecimen like himself. His meditations were, in fact, precisely what ahappily-married man's meditations ought to be. 

He was roused from them by a species of exclamation or cry almost athis elbow, and turned to find that the spectacular Miss Silverton wasstanding beside him. Her dubious hair gleamed in the sunlight, and oneof the criticised eyes was screwed up. The other gazed at Archie with anexpression of appeal. 

"There's something in my eye, " she said. 

"No, really!"

"I wonder if you would mind? It would be so kind of you!"

Archie would have preferred to remove himself, but no man worthy ofthe name can decline to come to the rescue of womanhood in distress. Totwist the lady's upper lid back and peer into it and jab at it with thecorner of his handkerchief was the only course open to him. His conductmay be classed as not merely blameless but definitely praiseworthy. KingArthur's knights used to do this sort of thing all the time, and lookwhat people think of them. Lucille, therefore, coming out of thehotel just as the operation was concluded, ought not to have feltthe annoyance she did. But, of course, there is a certain superficialintimacy about the attitude of a man who is taking a fly out of awoman's eye which may excusably jar upon the sensibilities of his wife. It is an attitude which suggests a sort of rapprochement or camaraderieor, as Archie would have put it, what not. 

"Thanks so much!" said Miss Silverton. 

"Oh no, rather not, " said Archie. 

"Such a nuisance getting things in your eye. "

"Absolutely!"

"I'm always doing it!"

"Rotten luck!"

"But I don't often find anyone as clever as you to help me. "

Lucille felt called upon to break in on this feast of reason and flow ofsoul. 

"Archie, " she said, "if you go and get your clubs now, I shall just havetime to walk round with you before my train goes. "

"Oh, ah!" said Archie, perceiving her for the first time. "Oh, ah, yes, right-o, yes, yes, yes!"

On the way to the first tee it seemed to Archie that Lucille wasdistrait and abstracted in her manner; and it occurred to him, not forthe first time in his life, what a poor support a clear conscience isin moments of crisis. Dash it all, he didn't see what else he could havedone. Couldn't leave the poor female staggering about the place withsquads of flies wedged in her eyeball. Nevertheless--

"Rotten thing getting a fly in your eye, " he hazarded at length. "Dashedawkward, I mean. "

"Or convenient. "

"Eh?"

"Well, it's a very good way of dispensing with an introduction. "

"Oh, I say! You don't mean you think--"

"She's a horrid woman!"

"Absolutely! Can't think what people see in her. "

"Well, you seemed to enjoy fussing over her!"

"No, no! Nothing of the kind! She inspired me with absolutewhat-d'you-call-it--the sort of thing chappies do get inspired with, youknow. "

"You were beaming all over your face. "

"I wasn't. I was just screwing up my face because the sun was in myeye. "

"All sorts of things seem to be in people's eyes this morning!"

 Archie was saddened. That this sort of misunderstanding should haveoccurred on such a topping day and at a moment when they were to be tornasunder for about thirty-six hours made him feel--well, it gave him thepip. He had an idea that there were words which would have straightenedeverything out, but he was not an eloquent young man and could not findthem. He felt aggrieved. Lucille, he considered, ought to haveknown that he was immune as regarded females with flashing eyes andexperimentally-coloured hair. Why, dash it, he could have extractedflies from the eyes of Cleopatra with one hand and Helen of Troy withthe other, simultaneously, without giving them a second thought. It wasin depressed mood that he played a listless nine holes; nor had lifebrightened for him when he came back to the hotel two hours later, afterseeing Lucille off in the train to New York. Never till now had they hadanything remotely resembling a quarrel. Life, Archie felt, was a bit ofa wash-out. He was disturbed and jumpy, and the sight of Miss Silverton, talking to somebody on a settee in the corner of the hotel lobby, senthim shooting off at right angles and brought him up with a bump againstthe desk behind which the room-clerk sat. 

The room-clerk, always of a chatty disposition, was saying something tohim, but Archie did not listen. He nodded mechanically. It was somethingabout his room. He caught the word "satisfactory. "

"Oh, rather, quite!" said Archie. 

A fussy devil, the room-clerk! He knew perfectly well that Archie foundhis room satisfactory. These chappies gassed on like this so as to tryto make you feel that the management took a personal interest in you. It was part of their job. Archie beamed absently and went in to lunch. Lucille's empty seat stared at him mournfully, increasing his sense ofdesolation. 

He was half-way through his lunch, when the chair opposite ceased tobe vacant. Archie, transferring his gaze from the scenery outside thewindow, perceived that his friend, George Benham, the playwright, hadmaterialised from nowhere and was now in his midst. 

"Hallo!" he said. 

George Benham was a grave young man whose spectacles gave him the lookof a mournful owl. He seemed to have something on his mind besides theartistically straggling mop of black hair which swept down over hisbrow. He sighed wearily, and ordered fish-pie. 

"I thought I saw you come through the lobby just now, " he said. 

"Oh, was that you on the settee, talking to Miss Silverton?"

"She was talking to ME, " said the playwright, moodily. 

"What are you doing here?" asked Archie. He could have wished Mr. Benhamelsewhere, for he intruded on his gloom, but, the chappie being amongstthose present, it was only civil to talk to him. "I thought you were inNew York, watching the rehearsals of your jolly old drama. "

"The rehearsals are hung up. And it looks as though there wasn't goingto be any drama. Good Lord!" cried George Benham, with honest warmth, "with opportunities opening out before one on every side--with lifeextending prizes to one with both hands--when you see coal-heaversmaking fifty dollars a week and the fellows who clean out the sewersgoing happy and singing about their work--why does a man deliberatelychoose a job like writing plays? Job was the only man that ever livedwho was really qualified to write a play, and he would have foundit pretty tough going if his leading woman had been anyone like VeraSilverton!"

Archie--and it was this fact, no doubt, which accounted for hispossession of such a large and varied circle of friends--was alwaysable to shelve his own troubles in order to listen to other people'shard-luck stories. 

"Tell me all, laddie, " he said. "Release the film! Has she walked out onyou?"

"Left us flat! How did you hear about it? Oh, she told you, of course?"

Archie hastened to try to dispel the idea that he was on any such termsof intimacy with Miss Silverton. 

"No, no! My wife said she thought it must be something of that nature ororder when we saw her come in to breakfast. I mean to say, " saidArchie, reasoning closely, "woman can't come into breakfast here andbe rehearsing in New York at the same time. Why did she administer theraspberry, old friend?"

Mr. Benham helped himself to fish-pie, and spoke dully through thesteam. 

"Well, what happened was this. Knowing her as intimately as you do--"

"I DON'T know her!"

"Well, anyway, it was like this. As you know, she has a dog--"

"I didn't know she had a dog, " protested Archie. It seemed to him thatthe world was in conspiracy to link him with this woman. 

"Well, she has a dog. A beastly great whacking brute of a bulldog. Andshe brings it to rehearsal. " Mr. Benham's eyes filled with tears, asin his emotion he swallowed a mouthful of fish-pie some eighty-threedegrees Fahrenheit hotter than it looked. In the intermission caused bythis disaster his agile mind skipped a few chapters of the story, and, when he was able to speak again, he said, "So then there was a lot oftrouble. Everything broke loose!"

"Why?" Archie was puzzled. "Did the management object to her bringingthe dog to rehearsal?"

"A lot of good that would have done! She does what she likes in thetheatre. "

"Then why was there trouble?"

"You weren't listening, " said Mr. Benham, reproachfully. "I told you. This dog came snuffling up to where I was sitting--it was quite dark inthe body of the theatre, you know--and I got up to say something aboutsomething that was happening on the stage, and somehow I must have givenit a push with my foot. "

"I see, " said Archie, beginning to get the run of the plot. "You kickedher dog. "

"Pushed it. Accidentally. With my foot. "

"I understand. And when you brought off this kick--"

"Push, " said Mr. Benham, austerely. 

"This kick or push. When you administered this kick or push--"

"It was more a sort of light shove. "

"Well, when you did whatever you did, the trouble started?"

Mr. Benham gave a slight shiver. 

"She talked for a while, and then walked out, taking the dog with her. You see, this wasn't the first time it had happened. "

"Good Lord! Do you spend your whole time doing that sort of thing?"

"It wasn't me the first time. It was the stage-manager. He didn't knowwhose dog it was, and it came waddling on to the stage, and he gave it asort of pat, a kind of flick--"

"A slosh?"

"NOT a slosh, " corrected Mr. Benham, firmly. "You might call it atap--with the promptscript. Well, we had a lot of difficulty smoothingher over that time. Still, we managed to do it, but she said that ifanything of the sort occurred again she would chuck up her part. "

"She must be fond of the dog, " said Archie, for the first time feeling atouch of goodwill and sympathy towards the lady. 

"She's crazy about, it. That's what made it so awkward when Ihappened--quite inadvertently--to give it this sort of accidental shove. Well, we spent the rest of the day trying to get her on the 'phone ather apartment, and finally we heard that she had come here. So I tookthe next train, and tried to persuade her to come back. She wouldn'tlisten. And that's how matters stand. "

"Pretty rotten!" said Archie, sympathetically. 

"You can bet it's pretty rotten--for me. There's nobody else who canplay the part. Like a chump, I wrote the thing specially for her. Itmeans the play won't be produced at all, if she doesn't do it. So you'remy last hope!"

Archie, who was lighting a cigarette, nearly swallowed it. 

"_I_ am?"

"I thought you might persuade her. Point out to her what a lot hangs onher coming back. Jolly her along, YOU know the sort of thing!"

"But, my dear old friend, I tell you I don't know her!"

Mr. Benham's eyes opened behind their zareba of glass. 

"Well, she knows YOU. When you came through the lobby just now she saidthat you were the only real human being she had ever met. "

"Well, as a matter of fact, I did take a fly out of her eye. But--"

"You did? Well, then, the whole thing's simple. All you have to do is toask her how her eye is, and tell her she has the most beautiful eyes youever saw, and coo a bit. "

"But, my dear old son!" The frightful programme which his friend hadmapped out stunned Archie. "I simply can't! Anything to oblige and allthat sort of thing, but when it comes to cooing, distinctly Napoo!"

"Nonsense! It isn't hard to coo. "

"You don't understand, laddie. You're not a married man. I mean to say, whatever you say for or against marriage--personally I'm all for it andconsider it a ripe egg--the fact remains that it practically makes achappie a spent force as a cooer. I don't want to dish you in any way, old bean, but I must firmly and resolutely decline to coo. "

Mr. Benham rose and looked at his watch. 

"I'll have to be moving, " he said. "I've got to get back to New York andreport. I'll tell them that I haven't been able to do anything myself, but that I've left the matter in good hands. I know you will do yourbest. "

"But, laddie!"

"Think, " said Mr. Benham, solemnly, "of all that depends on it! Theother actors! The small-part people thrown out of a job! Myself--but no!Perhaps you had better touch very lightly or not at all on my connectionwith the thing. Well, you know how to handle it. I feel I can leaveit to you. Pitch it strong! Good-bye, my dear old man, and a thousandthanks. I'll do the same for you another time. " He moved towards thedoor, leaving Archie transfixed. Half-way there he turned and came back. "Oh, by the way, " he said, "my lunch. Have it put on your bill, willyou? I haven't time to stay and settle. Good-bye! Good-bye!"

CHAPTER XIII. RALLYING ROUND PERCY

It amazed Archie through the whole of a long afternoon to reflect howswiftly and unexpectedly the blue and brilliant sky of life can cloudover and with what abruptness a man who fancies that his feet are onsolid ground can find himself immersed in Fate's gumbo. He recalled, with the bitterness with which one does recall such things, that thatmorning he had risen from his bed without a care in the world, hishappiness unruffled even by the thought that Lucille would be leavinghim for a short space. He had sung in his bath. Yes, he had chirrupedlike a bally linnet. And now--

Some men would have dismissed the unfortunate affairs of Mr. GeorgeBenham from their mind as having nothing to do with themselves, butArchie had never been made of this stern stuff. The fact that Mr. Benham, apart from being an agreeable companion with whom he had lunchedoccasionally in New York, had no claims upon him affected him little. Hehated to see his fellowman in trouble. On the other hand, what couldhe do? To seek Miss Silverton out and plead with her--even if he didit without cooing--would undoubtedly establish an intimacy between themwhich, instinct told him, might tinge her manner after Lucille's returnwith just that suggestion of Auld Lang Syne which makes things soawkward. 

His whole being shrank from extending to Miss Silverton that inch whichthe female artistic temperament is so apt to turn into an ell; and when, just as he was about to go in to dinner, he met her in the lobby and shesmiled brightly at him and informed him that her eye was now completelyrecovered, he shied away like a startled mustang of the prairie, and, abandoning his intention of worrying the table d'hote in the same roomwith the amiable creature, tottered off to the smoking-room, where hedid the best he could with sandwiches and coffee. 

Having got through the time as best he could till eleven o'clock, hewent up to bed. 

The room to which he and Lucille had been assigned by the management wason the second floor, pleasantly sunny by day and at night filled withcool and heartening fragrance of the pines. Hitherto Archie had alwaysenjoyed taking a final smoke on the balcony overlooking the woods, but, to-night such was his mental stress that he prepared to go to beddirectly he had closed the door. He turned to the cupboard to get hispyjamas. 

His first thought, when even after a second scrutiny no pyjamas werevisible, was that this was merely another of those things which happenon days when life goes wrong. He raked the cupboard for a third timewith an annoyed eye. From every hook hung various garments of Lucille's, but no pyjamas. He was breathing a soft malediction preparatory toembarking on a point-to-point hunt for his missing property, whensomething in the cupboard caught his eye and held him for a momentpuzzled. 

He could have sworn that Lucille did not possess a mauve neglige. Why, she had told him a dozen times that mauve was a colour which she didnot like. He frowned perplexedly; and as he did so, from near the windowcame a soft cough. 

Archie spun round and subjected the room to as close a scrutiny as thatwhich he had bestowed upon the cupboard. Nothing was visible. The windowopening on to the balcony gaped wide. The balcony was manifestly empty. 

"URRF!"

This time there was no possibility of error. The cough had come from theimmediate neighbourhood of the window. 

Archie was conscious of a pringly sensation about the roots of hisclosely-cropped back-hair, as he moved cautiously across the room. Theaffair was becoming uncanny; and, as he tip-toed towards the window, oldghost stories, read in lighter moments before cheerful fires withplenty of light in the room, flitted through his mind. He had thefeeling--precisely as every chappie in those stories had had--that hewas not alone. 

Nor was he. In a basket behind an arm-chair, curled up, with his massivechin resting on the edge of the wicker-work, lay a fine bulldog. 

"Urrf!" said the bulldog. 

"Good God!" said Archie. 

There was a lengthy pause in which the bulldog looked earnestly atArchie and Archie looked earnestly at the bulldog. 

Normally, Archie was a dog-lover. His hurry was never so great as toprevent him stopping, when in the street, and introducing himself to anydog he met. In a strange house, his first act was to assemble the caninepopulation, roll it on its back or backs, and punch it in the ribs. As aboy, his earliest ambition had been to become a veterinary surgeon; and, though the years had cheated him of his career, he knew all about dogs, their points, their manners, their customs, and their treatment insickness and in health. In short, he loved dogs, and, had they met underhappier conditions, he would undoubtedly have been on excellent termswith this one within the space of a minute. But, as things were, heabstained from fraternising and continued to goggle dumbly. 

And then his eye, wandering aside, collided with the following objects:a fluffy pink dressing-gown, hung over the back of a chair, an entirelystrange suit-case, and, on the bureau, a photograph in a silver frame ofa stout gentleman in evening-dress whom he had never seen before in hislife. 

Much has been written of the emotions of the wanderer who, returning tohis childhood home, finds it altered out of all recognition; but poetshave neglected the theme--far more poignant--of the man who goes up tohis room in an hotel and finds it full of somebody else's dressing-gownsand bulldogs. 

Bulldogs! Archie's heart jumped sideways and upwards with a wigglingmovement, turning two somersaults, and stopped beating. The hideoustruth, working its way slowly through the concrete, had at lastpenetrated to his brain. He was not only in somebody else's room, and awoman's at that. He was in the room belonging to Miss Vera Silverton. 

He could not understand it. He would have been prepared to stake thelast cent he could borrow from his father-in-law on the fact that he hadmade no error in the number over the door. Yet, nevertheless, such wasthe case, and, below par though his faculties were at the moment, he wassufficiently alert to perceive that it behoved him to withdraw. 

He leaped to the door, and, as he did so, the handle began to turn. 

The cloud which had settled on Archie's mind lifted abruptly. For aninstant he was enabled to think about a hundred times more quickly thanwas his leisurely wont. Good fortune had brought him to within easyreach of the electric-light switch. He snapped it back, and was indarkness. Then, diving silently and swiftly to the floor, he wriggledunder the bed. The thud of his head against what appeared to be somesort of joist or support, unless it had been placed there by the makeras a practical joke, on the chance of this kind of thing happening someday, coincided with the creak of the opening door. Then the lightwas switched on again, and the bulldog in the corner gave a welcomingwoofle. 

"And how is mamma's precious angel?"

Rightly concluding that the remark had not been addressed to himselfand that no social obligation demanded that he reply, Archie pressedhis cheek against the boards and said nothing. The question was notrepeated, but from the other side of the room came the sound of a patteddog. 

"Did he think his muzzer had fallen down dead and was never coming up?"

The beautiful picture which these words conjured up filled Archie withthat yearning for the might-have-been which is always so painful. He wasfinding his position physically as well as mentally distressing. It wascramped under the bed, and the boards were harder than anything he hadever encountered. Also, it appeared to be the practice of the housemaidsat the Hotel Hermitage to use the space below the beds as a depositoryfor all the dust which they swept off the carpet, and much of this wasinsinuating itself into his nose and mouth. The two things which Archiewould have liked most to do at that moment were first to kill MissSilverton--if possible, painfully--and then to spend the remainder ofhis life sneezing. 

After a prolonged period he heard a drawer open, and noted the fact aspromising. As the old married man, he presumed that it signified theputting away of hair-pins. About now the dashed woman would be lookingat herself in the glass with her hair down. Then she would brush it. Then she would twiddle it up into thingummies. Say, ten minutes forthis. And after that she would go to bed and turn out the light, and hewould be able, after giving her a bit of time to go to sleep, to creepout and leg it. Allowing at a conservative estimate three-quarters of--

"Come out!"

Archie stiffened. For an instant a feeble hope came to him that thisremark, like the others, might be addressed to the dog. 

"Come out from under that bed!" said a stern voice. "And mind how youcome! I've got a pistol!"

"Well, I mean to say, you know, " said Archie, in a propitiatory voice, emerging from his lair like a tortoise and smiling as winningly as a mancan who has just bumped his head against the leg of a bed, "I supposeall this seems fairly rummy, but--"

"For the love of Mike!" said Miss Silverton. 

The point seemed to Archie well taken and the comment on the situationneatly expressed. 

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Well, if it comes to that, you know--shouldn't have mentioned it if youhadn't brought the subject up in the course of general chit-chat--whatare you doing in mine?"

"Yours?"

"Well, apparently there's been a bloomer of some species somewhere, butthis was the room I had last night, " said Archie. 

"But the desk-clerk said that he had asked you if it would be quitesatisfactory to you giving it up to me, and you said yes. I come hereevery summer, when I'm not working, and I always have this room. "

"By Jove! I remember now. The chappie did say something to me about theroom, but I was thinking of something else and it rather went over thetop. So that's what he was talking about, was it?"

Miss Silverton was frowning. A moving-picture director, scanning herface, would have perceived that she was registering disappointment. 

"Nothing breaks right for me in this darned world, " she said, regretfully. "When I caught sight of your leg sticking out from underthe bed, I did think that everything was all lined up for a real findand, at last, I could close my eyes and see the thing in the papers. On the front page, with photographs: 'Plucky Actress Captures Burglar. 'Darn it!"

"Fearfully sorry, you know!"

"I just needed something like that. I've got a Press-agent, and Iwill say for him that he eats well and sleeps well and has just enoughintelligence to cash his monthly cheque without forgetting what he wentinto the bank for, but outside of that you can take it from me he's notone of the world's workers! He's about as much solid use to a girl withaspirations as a pain in the lower ribs. It's three weeks since he gotme into print at all, and then the brightest thing he could think up wasthat my favourite breakfast-fruit was an apple. Well, I ask you!"

"Rotten!" said Archie. 

"I did think that for once my guardian angel had gone back to workand was doing something for me. 'Stage Star and Midnight Marauder, '"murmured Miss Silverton, wistfully. "'Footlight Favourite Foils Felon. '"

"Bit thick!" agreed Archie, sympathetically. "Well, you'll probablybe wanting to get to bed and all that sort of rot, so I may as well bepopping, what! Cheerio!"

A sudden gleam came into Miss Silverton's compelling eyes. 

"Wait!"

"Eh?"

"Wait! I've got an idea!" The wistful sadness had gone from her manner. She was bright and alert. "Sit down!"

"Sit down?"

"Sure. Sit down and take the chill off the arm-chair. I've thought ofsomething. "

Archie sat down as directed. At his elbow the bulldog eyed him gravelyfrom the basket. 

"Do they know you in this hotel?"

"Know me? Well, I've been here about a week. "

"I mean, do they know who you are? Do they know you're a good citizen?"

"Well, if it comes to that, I suppose they don't. But--"

"Fine!" said Miss Silverton, appreciatively. "Then it's all right. Wecan carry on!"

"Carry on!"

"Why, sure! All I want is to get the thing into the papers. It doesn'tmatter to me if it turns out later that there was a mistake and that youweren't a burglar trying for my jewels after all. It makes just as gooda story either way. I can't think why that never struck me before. Herehave I been kicking because you weren't a real burglar, when it doesn'tamount to a hill of beans whether you are or not. All I've got to dois to rush out and yell and rouse the hotel, and they come in and pinchyou, and I give the story to the papers, and everything's fine!"

Archie leaped from his chair. 

"I say! What!"

"What's on your mind?" enquired Miss Silverton, considerately. "Don'tyou think it's a nifty scheme?"

"Nifty! My dear old soul! It's frightful!"

"Can't see what's wrong with it, " grumbled Miss Silverton. "After I'vehad someone get New York on the long-distance 'phone and give thestory to the papers you can explain, and they'll let you out. Surely togoodness you don't object, as a personal favour to me, to spending anhour or two in a cell? Why, probably they haven't got a prison at allout in these parts, and you'll simply be locked in a room. A child often could do it on his head, " said Miss Silverton. "A child of six, " sheemended. 

"But, dash it--I mean--what I mean to say--I'm married!"

"Yes?" said Miss Silverton, with the politeness of faint interest. "I'vebeen married myself. I wouldn't say it's altogether a bad thing, mindyou, for those that like it, but a little of it goes a long way. Myfirst husband, " she proceeded, reminiscently, "was a travelling man. Igave him a two-weeks' try-out, and then I told him to go on travelling. My second husband--now, HE wasn't a gentleman in any sense of the word. I remember once--"

"You don't grasp the point. The jolly old point! You fail to grasp it. If this bally thing comes out, my wife will be most frightfully sick!"

Miss Silverton regarded him with pained surprise. 

"Do you mean to say you would let a little thing like that stand in theway of my getting on the front page of all the papers--WITH photographs?Where's your chivalry?"

"Never mind my dashed chivalry!"

"Besides, what does it matter if she does get a little sore? She'll soonget over it. You can put that right. Buy her a box of candy. Not thatI'm strong for candy myself. What I always say is, it may taste good, but look what it does to your hips! I give you my honest word that, whenI gave up eating candy, I lost eleven ounces the first week. My secondhusband--no, I'm a liar, it was my third--my third husband said--Say, what's the big idea? Where are you going?"

"Out!" said Archie, firmly. "Bally out!"

A dangerous light flickered in Miss Silverton's eyes. 

"That'll be all of that!" she said, raising the pistol. "You stay rightwhere you are, or I'll fire!"

"Right-o!"

"I mean it!"

"My dear old soul, " said Archie, "in the recent unpleasantness in FranceI had chappies popping off things like that at me all day and every dayfor close on five years, and here I am, what! I mean to say, if I'vegot to choose between staying here and being pinched in your room by thelocal constabulary and having the dashed thing get into the papers andall sorts of trouble happening, and my wife getting the wind up and--Isay, if I've got to choose--"

"Suck a lozenge and start again!" said Miss Silverton. 

"Well, what I mean to say is, I'd much rather take a chance of getting abullet in the old bean than that. So loose it off and the best o' luck!"

Miss Silverton lowered the pistol, sank into a chair, and burst intotears. 

"I think you're the meanest man I ever met!" she sobbed. "You knowperfectly well the bang would send me into a fit!"

"In that case, " said Archie, relieved, "cheerio, good luck, pip-pip, toodle-oo, and good-bye-ee! I'll be shifting!"

"Yes, you will!" cried Miss Silverton, energetically, recovering withamazing swiftness from her collapse. "Yes, you will, I by no meanssuppose! You think, just because I'm no champion with a pistol, I'mhelpless. You wait! Percy!"

"My name is not Percy. "

"I never said it was. Percy! Percy, come to muzzer!"

There was a creaking rustle from behind the arm-chair. A heavy bodyflopped on the carpet. Out into the room, heaving himself along asthough sleep had stiffened his joints, and breathing stertorouslythrough his tilted nose, moved the fine bulldog. Seen in the open, helooked even more formidable than he had done in his basket. 

"Guard him, Percy! Good dog, guard him! Oh, heavens! What's the matterwith him?"

And with these words the emotional woman, uttering a wail of anguish, flung herself on the floor beside the animal. 

Percy was, indeed, in manifestly bad shape. He seemed quite unable todrag his limbs across the room. There was a curious arch in his back, and, as his mistress touched him, he cried out plaintively, "Percy! Oh, what IS the matter with him? His nose is burning!"

Now was the time, with both sections of the enemy's forces occupied, forArchie to have departed softly from the room. But never, since theday when at the age of eleven he had carried a large, damp, and muddyterrier with a sore foot three miles and deposited him on the best sofain his mother's drawing-room, had he been able to ignore the spectacleof a dog in trouble. 

"He does look bad, what!"

"He's dying! Oh, he's dying! Is it distemper? He's never had distemper. "

Archie regarded the sufferer with the grave eye of the expert. He shookhis head. 

"It's not that, " he said. "Dogs with distemper make a sort of sniftingnoise. "

"But he IS making a snifting noise!"

"No, he's making a snuffling noise. Great difference between snufflingand snifting. Not the same thing at all. I mean to say, when they sniftthey snift, and when they snuffle they--as it were--snuffle. That's howyou can tell. If you ask ME"--he passed his hand over the dog's back. Percy uttered another cry. "I know what's the matter with him. "

"A brute of a man kicked him at rehearsal. Do you think he's injuredinternally?"

"It's rheumatism, " said Archie. "Jolly old rheumatism. That's all that'sthe trouble. "

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!"

"But what can I do?"

"Give him a good hot bath, and mind and dry him well. He'll have a goodsleep then, and won't have any pain. Then, first thing to-morrow, youwant to give him salicylate of soda. "

"I'll never remember that. "-"I'll write it down for you. You ought togive him from ten to twenty grains three times a day in an ounce ofwater. And rub him with any good embrocation. "

"And he won't die?"

"Die! He'll live to be as old as you are!-I mean to say--"

"I could kiss you!" said Miss Silverton, emotionally. 

Archie backed hastily. 

"No, no, absolutely not! Nothing like that required, really!"

"You're a darling!"

"Yes. I mean no. No, no, really!"

"I don't know what to say. What can I say?"

"Good night, " said Archie. 

"I wish there was something I could do! If you hadn't been here, Ishould have gone off my head!"

A great idea flashed across Archie's brain. 

"Do you really want to do something?"

"Anything!"

"Then I do wish, like a dear sweet soul, you would pop straight back toNew York to-morrow and go on with those rehearsals. "

Miss Silverton shook her head. 

"I can't do that!"

"Oh, right-o! But it isn't much to ask, what!"

"Not much to ask! I'll never forgive that man for kicking Percy!"

"Now listen, dear old soul. You've got the story all wrong. As a matterof fact, jolly old Benham told me himself that he has the greatestesteem and respect for Percy, and wouldn't have kicked him for theworld. And, you know it was more a sort of push than a kick. You mightalmost call it a light shove. The fact is, it was beastly dark in thetheatre, and he was legging it sideways for some reason or other, nodoubt with the best motives, and unfortunately he happened to stub histoe on the poor old bean. "

"Then why didn't he say so?"

"As far as I could make out, you didn't give him a chance. "

Miss Silverton wavered. 

"I always hate going back after I've walked out on a show, " she said. "It seems so weak!"

"Not a bit of it! They'll give three hearty cheers and think you atopper. Besides, you've got to go to New York in any case. To take Percyto a vet. , you know, what!"

"Of course. How right you always are!" Miss Silverton hesitated again. "Would you really be glad if I went back to the show?"

"I'd go singing about the hotel! Great pal of mine, Benham. A thoroughlycheery old bean, and very cut up about the whole affair. Besides, thinkof all the coves thrown out of work--the thingummabobs and the poorwhat-d'you-call-'ems!"

"Very well. "

"You'll do it?"

"Yes. "

"I say, you really are one of the best! Absolutely like mother made!That's fine! Well, I think I'll be saying good night. "

"Good night. And thank you so much!"

"Oh, no, rather not!"

Archie moved to the door. 

"Oh, by the way. "

"Yes?"

"If I were you, I think I should catch the very first train you can getto New York. You see--er--you ought to take Percy to the vet. As soon asever you can. "

"You really do think of everything, " said Miss Silverton. 

"Yes, " said Archie, meditatively. 

CHAPTER XIV. THE SAD CASE OF LOONEY BIDDLE

Archie was a simple soul, and, as is the case with most simple souls, gratitude came easily to him. He appreciated kind treatment. And when, on the following day, Lucille returned to the Hermitage, all smiles andaffection, and made no further reference to Beauty's Eyes and the fliesthat got into them, he was conscious of a keen desire to show some solidrecognition of this magnanimity. Few wives, he was aware, could havehad the nobility and what not to refrain from occasionally turning theconversation in the direction of the above-mentioned topics. It had notneeded this behaviour on her part to convince him that Lucille was atopper and a corker and one of the very best, for he had been cognisantof these facts since the first moment he had met her: but what he didfeel was that she deserved to be rewarded in no uncertain manner. Andit seemed a happy coincidence to him that her birthday should be comingalong in the next week or so. Surely, felt Archie, he could whack upsome sort of a not unjuicy gift for that occasion--something pretty ripethat would make a substantial hit with the dear girl. Surely somethingwould come along to relieve his chronic impecuniosity for justsufficient length of time to enable him to spread himself on this greatoccasion. 

And, as if in direct answer to prayer, an almost forgotten aunt inEngland suddenly, out of an absolutely blue sky, shot no less a sum thanfive hundred dollars across the ocean. The present was so lavish andunexpected that Archie had the awed feeling of one who participates ina miracle. He felt, like Herbert Parker, that the righteous was notforsaken. It was the sort of thing that restored a fellow's faith inhuman nature. For nearly a week he went about in a happy trance: andwhen, by thrift and enterprise--that is to say, by betting Reggie vanTuyl that the New York Giants would win the opening game of the seriesagainst the Pittsburg baseball team--he contrived to double his capital, what it amounted to was simply that life had nothing more to offer. Hewas actually in a position to go to a thousand dollars for Lucille'sbirthday present. He gathered in Mr. Van Tuyl, of whose taste in thesematters he had a high opinion, and dragged him off to a jeweller's onBroadway. 

The jeweller, a stout, comfortable man, leaned on the counter andfingered lovingly the bracelet which he had lifted out of its nest ofblue plush. Archie, leaning on the other side of the counter, inspectedthe bracelet searchingly, wishing that he knew more about these things;for he had rather a sort of idea that the merchant was scheming to dohim in the eyeball. In a chair by his side, Reggie van Tuyl, half asleepas usual, yawned despondently. He had permitted Archie to lug him intothis shop; and he wanted to buy something and go. Any form of sustainedconcentration fatigued Reggie. 

"Now this, " said the jeweller, "I could do at eight hundred and fiftydollars. "

"Grab it!" murmured Mr. Van Tuyl. 

The jeweller eyed him approvingly, a man after his own heart; but Archielooked doubtful. It was all very well for Reggie to tell him to grabit in that careless way. Reggie was a dashed millionaire, and no doubtbought bracelets by the pound or the gross or what not; but he himselfwas in an entirely different position. 

"Eight hundred and fifty dollars!" he said, hesitating. 

"Worth it, " mumbled Reggie van Tuyl. 

"More than worth it, " amended the jeweller. "I can assure you that it isbetter value than you could get anywhere on Fifth Avenue. "

"Yes?" said Archie. He took the bracelet and twiddled it thoughtfully. "Well, my dear old jeweller, one can't say fairer than that, can one--ortwo, as the case may be!" He frowned. "Oh, well, all right! But it'srummy that women are so fearfully keen on these little thingummies, isn't it? I mean to say, can't see what they see in them. Stones, andall that. Still, there, it is, of course!"

"There, " said the jeweller, "as you say, it is, sir. "

"Yes, there it is!"

"Yes, there it is, " said the jeweller, "fortunately for people in myline of business. Will you take it with you, sir?"

Archie reflected. 

"No. No, not take it with me. The fact is, you know, my wife's comingback from the country to-night, and it's her birthday to-morrow, and thething's for her, and, if it was popping about the place to-night, shemight see it, and it would sort of spoil the surprise. I mean to say, she doesn't know I'm giving it her, and all that!"

"Besides, " said Reggie, achieving a certain animation now that thetedious business interview was concluded, "going to the ball-game thisafternoon--might get pocket picked--yes, better have it sent. "

"Where shall I send it, sir?"

"Eh? Oh, shoot it along to Mrs. Archibald Moffam, at the Cosmopolis. Notto-day, you know. Buzz it in first thing to-morrow. "

Having completed the satisfactory deal, the jeweller threw off thebusiness manner and became chatty. 

"So you are going to the ball-game? It should be an interestingcontest. "

Reggie van Tuyl, now--by his own standards--completely awake, tookexception to this remark. 

"Not a bit of it!" he said, decidedly. "No contest! Can't call it acontest! Walkover for the Pirates!"

Archie was stung to the quick. There is that about baseball whicharouses enthusiasm and the partisan spirit in the unlikeliest bosoms. Itis almost impossible for a man to live in America and not become grippedby the game; and Archie had long been one of its warmest adherents. He was a whole-hearted supporter of the Giants, and his only grievanceagainst Reggie, in other respects an estimable young man, was that thelatter, whose money had been inherited from steel-mills in that city, had an absurd regard for the Pirates of Pittsburg. 

"What absolute bally rot!" he exclaimed. "Look what the Giants did tothem yesterday!"

"Yesterday isn't to-day, " said Reggie. 

"No, it'll be a jolly sight worse, " said Archie. "Looney Biddle'll bepitching for the Giants to-day. "

"That's just what I mean. The Pirates have got him rattled. Look whathappened last time. "

Archie understood, and his generous nature chafed at the innuendo. Looney Biddle--so-called by an affectionately admiring public as theresult of certain marked eccentricities--was beyond dispute the greatestleft-handed pitcher New York had possessed in the last decade. But therewas one blot on Mr. Biddle's otherwise stainless scutcheon. Five weeksbefore, on the occasion of the Giants' invasion of Pittsburg, he hadgone mysteriously to pieces. Few native-born partisans, brought up tobaseball from the cradle, had been plunged into a profounder gloom onthat occasion than Archie; but his soul revolted at the thought thatthat sort of thing could ever happen again. 

"I'm not saying, " continued Reggie, "that Biddle isn't a very fairpitcher, but it's cruel to send him against the Pirates, and somebodyought to stop it. His best friends should interfere. Once a team getsa pitcher rattled, he's never any good against them again. He loses hisnerve. "

The jeweller nodded approval of this sentiment. 

"They never come back, " he said, sententiously. 

The fighting blood of the Moffams was now thoroughly stirred. Archieeyed his friend sternly. Reggie was a good chap--in many respects anextremely sound egg--but he must not be allowed to talk rot of thisdescription about the greatest left-handed pitcher of the age. 

"It seems to me, old companion, " he said, "that a small bet is indicatedat this juncture. How about it?"

"Don't want to take your money. "

"You won't have to! In the cool twilight of the merry old summerevening I, friend of my youth and companion of my riper years, shall betrousering yours. "

Reggie yawned. The day was very hot, and this argument was making himfeel sleepy again. 

"Well, just as you like, of course. Double or quits on yesterday's bet, if that suits you. "

For a moment Archie hesitated. Firm as his faith was in Mr. Biddle'sstout left arm, he had not intended to do the thing on quite thisscale. That thousand dollars of his was earmarked for Lucille's birthdaypresent, and he doubted whether he ought to risk it. Then the thoughtthat the honour of New York was in his hands decided him. Besides, therisk was negligible. Betting on Looney Biddle was like betting on theprobable rise of the sun in the east. The thing began to seem to Archiea rather unusually sound and conservative investment. He remembered thatthe jeweller, until he drew him firmly but kindly to earth and urgedhim to curb his exuberance and talk business on a reasonable plane, hadstarted brandishing bracelets that cost about two thousand. There wouldbe time to pop in at the shop this evening after the game and change theone he had selected for one of those. Nothing was too good for Lucilleon her birthday. 

"Right-o!" he said. "Make it so, old friend!"

Archie walked back to the Cosmopolis. No misgivings came to mar hisperfect contentment. He felt no qualms about separating Reggie fromanother thousand dollars. Except for a little small change in thepossession of the Messrs. Rockefeller and Vincent Astor, Reggie had allthe money in the world and could afford to lose. He hummed a gay airas he entered the lobby and crossed to the cigar-stand to buy a fewcigarettes to see him through the afternoon. 

The girl behind the cigar counter welcomed him with a bright smile. Archie was popular with all the employes of the Cosmopolis. 

"'S a great day, Mr. Moffam!"

"One of the brightest and best, " Agreed Archie. "Could you dig me outtwo, or possibly three, cigarettes of the usual description? I shallwant something to smoke at the ball-game. "

"You going to the ball-game?"

"Rather! Wouldn't miss it for a fortune. "

"No?"

"Absolutely no! Not with jolly old Biddle pitching. "

The cigar-stand girl laughed amusedly. 

"Is he pitching this afternoon? Say, that feller's a nut? D'you knowhim?"

"Know him? Well, I've seen him pitch and so forth. "

"I've got a girl friend who's engaged to him!"

Archie looked at her with positive respect. It would have been moredramatic, of course, if she had been engaged to the great man herself, but still the mere fact that she had a girl friend in that astoundingposition gave her a sort of halo. 

"No, really!" he said. "I say, by Jove, really! Fancy that!"

"Yes, she's engaged to him all right. Been engaged close on a couplamonths now. "

"I say! That's frightfully interesting! Fearfully interesting, really!"

"It's funny about that guy, " said the cigar-stand girl. "He's a nut!The fellow who said there's plenty of room at the top must have beenthinking of Gus Biddle's head! He's crazy about m' girl friend, y' know, and, whenever they have a fuss, it seems like he sort of flies right offthe handle. "

"Goes in off the deep end, eh?"

"Yes, SIR! Loses what little sense he's got. Why, the last time him andm' girl friend got to scrapping was when he was going on to Pittsburgto play, about a month ago. He'd been out with her the day he left forthere, and he had a grouch or something, and he started making low, sneaky cracks about her Uncle Sigsbee. Well, m' girl friend's got a nicedisposition, but she c'n get mad, and she just left him flat and toldhim all was over. And he went off to Pittsburg, and, when he started into pitch the opening game, he just couldn't keep his mind on hisjob, and look what them assassins done to him! Five runs in the firstinnings! Yessir, he's a nut all right!"

Archie was deeply concerned. So this was the explanation of thatmysterious disaster, that weird tragedy which had puzzled the sportingpress from coast to coast. 

"Good God! Is he often taken like that?"

"Oh, he's all right when he hasn't had a fuss with m' girl friend, " saidthe cigar-stand girl, indifferently. Her interest in baseball was tepid. Women are too often like this--mere butterflies, with no concern for thedeeper side of life. 

"Yes, but I say! What I mean to say, you know! Are they pretty pallynow? The good old Dove of Peace flapping its little wings fairly brisklyand all that?"

"Oh, I guess everything's nice and smooth just now. I seen m' girlfriend yesterday, and Gus was taking her to the movies last night, so Iguess everything's nice and smooth. "

Archie breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Took her to the movies, did he? Stout fellow!"

"I was at the funniest picture last week, " said the cigar-stand girl. "Honest, it was a scream! It was like this--"

Archie listened politely; then went in to get a bite of lunch. Hisequanimity, shaken by the discovery of the rift in the peerless one'sarmour, was restored. Good old Biddle had taken the girl to the movieslast night. Probably he had squeezed her hand a goodish bit in the dark. With what result? Why, the fellow would be feeling like one of thosechappies who used to joust for the smiles of females in the Middle Ages. What he meant to say, presumably the girl would be at the game thisafternoon, whooping him on, and good old Biddle would be so full ofbeans and buck that there would be no holding him. 

Encouraged by these thoughts, Archie lunched with an untroubled mind. Luncheon concluded, he proceeded to the lobby to buy back his hat andstick from the boy brigand with whom he had left them. It was while hewas conducting this financial operation that he observed that at thecigar-stand, which adjoined the coat-and-hat alcove, his friend behindthe counter had become engaged in conversation with another girl. 

This was a determined looking young woman in a blue dress and a largehat of a bold and flowery species, Archie happening to attract herattention, she gave him a glance out of a pair of fine brown eyes, then, as if she did not think much of him, turned to her companion and resumedtheir conversation--which, being of an essentially private and intimatenature, she conducted, after the manner of her kind, in a ringingsoprano which penetrated into every corner of the lobby. Archie, waiting while the brigand reluctantly made change for a dollar bill, wasprivileged to hear every word. 

"Right from the start I seen he was in a ugly mood. YOU know how hegets, dearie! Chewing his upper lip and looking at you as if you wereso much dirt beneath his feet! How was _I_ to know he'd lost fifteendollars fifty-five playing poker, and anyway, I don't see where he getsa licence to work off his grouches on me. And I told him so. I said tohim, 'Gus, ' I said, 'if you can't be bright and smiling and cheerfulwhen you take me out, why do you come round at all? Was I wrong orright, dearie?"

The girl behind the counter heartily endorsed her conduct. "Once you leta man think he could use you as a door-mat, where were you?"

"What happened then, honey?"

"Well, after that we went to the movies. "

Archie started convulsively. The change from his dollar-bill leaped inhis hand. Some of it sprang overboard and tinkled across the floor, withthe brigand in pursuit. A monstrous suspicion had begun, to take root inhis mind. 

"Well, we got good seats, but--well, you know how it is, once thingsstart going wrong. You know that hat of mine, the one with the daisiesand cherries and the feather--I'd taken it off and given it him to holdwhen we went in, and what do you think that fell'r'd done? Put it on thefloor and crammed it under the seat, just to save himself the trouble ofholding it on his lap! And, when I showed him I was upset, all he saidwas that he was a pitcher and not a hatstand!"

Archie was paralysed. He paid no attention to the hat-check boy, whowas trying to induce him to accept treasure-trove to the amount offorty-five cents. His whole being was concentrated on this frightfultragedy which had burst upon him like a tidal wave. No possible room fordoubt remained. "Gus" was the only Gus in New York that mattered, andthis resolute and injured female before him was the Girl Friend, inwhose slim hands rested the happiness of New York's baseball followers, the destiny of the unconscious Giants, and the fate of his thousanddollars. A strangled croak proceeded from his parched lips. 

"Well, I didn't say anything at the moment. It just shows how themmovies can work on a girl's feelings. It was a Bryant Washburn film, andsomehow, whenever I see him on the screen, nothing else seems to matter. I just get that goo-ey feeling, and couldn't start a fight if you askedme to. So we go off to have a soda, and I said to him, 'That sure was alovely film, Gus!' and would you believe me, he says straight out thathe didn't think it was such a much, and he thought Bryant Washburn was apill! A pill!" The Girl Friend's penetrating voice shook with emotion. 

"He never!" exclaimed the shocked cigar-stand girl. 

"He did, if I die the next moment! I wasn't more than half-way throughmy vanilla and maple, but I got up without a word and left him. And Iain't seen a sight of him since. So there you are, dearie! Was I rightor wrong?"

The cigar-stand girl gave unqualified approval. What men like Gus Biddleneeded for the salvation of their souls was an occasional good joltright where it would do most good. 

"I'm glad you think I acted right, dearie, " said the Girl Friend. "Iguess I've been too weak with Gus, and he's took advantage of it. Is'pose I'll have to forgive him one of these old days, but, believe me, it won't be for a week. "

The cigar-stand girl was in favour of a fortnight. 

"No, " said the Girl Friend, regretfully. "I don't believe I could holdout that long. But, if I speak to him inside a week, well--! Well, Igotta be going. Goodbye, honey. "

The cigar-stand girl turned to attend to an impatient customer, and theGirl Friend, walking with the firm and decisive steps which indicatecharacter, made for the swing-door leading to the street. And as shewent, the paralysis which had pipped Archie released its hold. Stillignoring the forty-five cents which the boy continued to proffer, heleaped in her wake like a panther and came upon her just as she wasstepping into a car. The car was full, but not too full for Archie. Hedropped his five cents into the box and reached for a vacant strap. He looked down upon the flowered hat. There she was. And there he was. Archie rested his left ear against the forearm of a long, strongly-builtyoung man in a grey suit who had followed him into the car and wassharing his strap, and pondered. 

CHAPTER XV. SUMMER STORMS

Of course, in a way, the thing was simple. The wheeze was, in a sense, straightforward and uncomplicated. What he wanted to do was to point outto the injured girl all that hung on her. He wished to touch herheart, to plead with her, to desire her to restate her war-aims, and topersuade her--before three o'clock when that stricken gentleman would bestepping into the pitcher's box to loose off the first ball againstthe Pittsburg Pirates--to let bygones be bygones and forgive AugustusBiddle. But the blighted problem was, how the deuce to find theopportunity to start. He couldn't yell at the girl in a crowdedstreet-car; and, if he let go of his strap and bent over her, somebodywould step on his neck. 

The Girl Friend, who for the first five minutes had remained entirelyconcealed beneath her hat, now sought diversion by looking up andexamining the faces of the upper strata of passengers. Her eye caughtArchie's in a glance of recognition, and he smiled feebly, endeavouringto register bonhomie and good-will. He was surprised to see a startledexpression come into her brown eyes. Her face turned pink. At least, itwas pink already, but it turned pinker. The next moment, the car havingstopped to pick up more passengers, she jumped off and started to hurryacross the street. 

Archie was momentarily taken aback. When embarking on this businesshe had never intended it to become a blend of otter-hunting and amoving-picture chase. He followed her off the car with a sense that hisgrip on the affair was slipping. Preoccupied with these thoughts, hedid not perceive that the long young man who had shared his strap hadalighted too. His eyes were fixed on the vanishing figure of the GirlFriend, who, having buzzed at a smart pace into Sixth Avenue, was nowlegging it in the direction of the staircase leading to one of thestations of the Elevated Railroad. Dashing up the stairs after her, he shortly afterwards found himself suspended as before from a strap, gazing upon the now familiar flowers on top of her hat. From anotherstrap farther down the carriage swayed the long young man in the greysuit. 

The train rattled on. Once or twice, when it stopped, the girl seemedundecided whether to leave or remain. She half rose, then sank backagain. Finally she walked resolutely out of the car, and Archie, following, found himself in a part of New York strange to him. Theinhabitants of this district appeared to eke out a precarious existence, not by taking in one another's washing, but by selling one anothersecond-hand clothes. 

Archie glanced at his watch. He had lunched early, but so crowded withemotions had been the period following lunch that he was surprised tofind that the hour was only just two. The discovery was a pleasant one. With a full hour before the scheduled start of the game, much might beachieved. He hurried after the girl, and came up with her just as sheturned the corner into one of those forlorn New York side-streets whichare populated chiefly by children, cats, desultory loafers, and emptymeat-tins. 

The girl stopped and turned. Archie smiled a winning smile. 

"I say, my dear sweet creature!" he said. "I say, my dear old thing, onemoment!"

"Is that so?" said the Girl Friend. 

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is that so?"

Archie began to feel certain tremors. Her eyes were gleaming, and herdetermined mouth had become a perfectly straight line of scarlet. It wasgoing to be difficult to be chatty to this girl. She was going to be ahard audience. Would mere words be able to touch her heart? The thoughtsuggested itself that, properly speaking, one would need to use apick-axe. 

"If you could spare me a couples of minutes of your valuable time--"

"Say!" The lady drew herself up menacingly. "You tie a can to yourselfand disappear! Fade away, or I'll call a cop!"

Archie was horrified at this misinterpretation of his motives. One ortwo children, playing close at hand, and a loafer who was trying tokeep the wall from falling down, seemed pleased. Theirs was a colourlessexistence and to the rare purple moments which had enlivened it in thepast the calling of a cop had been the unfailing preliminary. The loafernudged a fellow-loafer, sunning himself against the same wall. Thechildren, abandoning the meat-tin round which their game had centred, drew closer. 

"My dear old soul!" said Archie. "You don't understand!"

"Don't I! I know your sort, you trailing arbutus!"

"No, no! My dear old thing, believe me! I wouldn't dream!"

"Are you going or aren't you?"

Eleven more children joined the ring of spectators. The loafers staredsilently, like awakened crocodiles. 

"But, I say, listen! I only wanted--"

At this point another voice spoke. 

"Say!"

The word "Say!" more almost than any word in the American language, iscapable of a variety of shades of expression. It can be genial, it canbe jovial, it can be appealing. It can also be truculent The "Say!"which at this juncture smote upon Archie's ear-drum with a suddennesswhich made him leap in the air was truculent; and the two loafers andtwenty-seven children who now formed the audience were well satisfiedwith the dramatic development of the performance. To their experiencedears the word had the right ring. 

Archie spun round. At his elbow stood a long, strongly-built young manin a grey suit. 

"Well!" said the young man, nastily. And he extended a large, freckledface toward Archie's. It seemed to the latter, as he backed against thewall, that the young man's neck must be composed of india-rubber. Itappeared to be growing longer every moment. His face, besides beingfreckled, was a dull brick-red in colour; his lips curled back in anunpleasant snarl, showing a gold tooth; and beside him, swaying in anominous sort of way, hung two clenched red hands about the size of twoyoung legs of mutton. Archie eyed him with a growing apprehension. Thereare moments in life when, passing idly on our way, we see a strangeface, look into strange eyes, and with a sudden glow of human warmthsay to ourselves, "We have found a friend!" This was not one of thosemoments. The only person Archie had ever seen in his life who lookedless friendly was the sergeant-major who had trained him in the earlydays of the war, before he had got his commission. 

"I've had my eye on you!" said the young man. 

He still had his eye on him. It was a hot, gimlet-like eye, and itpierced the recesses of Archie's soul. He backed a little fartheragainst the wall. 

Archie was frankly disturbed. He was no poltroon, and had proved thefact on many occasions during the days when the entire German armyseemed to be picking on him personally, but he hated and shrank fromanything in the nature of a bally public scene. 

"What, " enquired the young man, still bearing the burden of theconversation, and shifting his left hand a little farther behind hisback, "do you mean by following this young lady?"

Archie was glad he had asked him. This was precisely what he wanted toexplain. 

"My dear old lad--" he began. 

In spite of the fact that he had asked a question and presumably desireda reply, the sound of Archie's voice seemed to be more than the youngman could endure. It deprived him of the last vestige of restraint. Witha rasping snarl he brought his left fist round in a sweeping semicirclein the direction of Archie's head. 

Archie was no novice in the art of self-defence. Since his early days atschool he had learned much from leather-faced professors of the science. He had been watching this unpleasant young man's eyes with closeattention, and the latter could not have indicated his scheme of actionmore clearly if he had sent him a formal note. Archie saw the swing allthe way. He stepped nimbly aside, and the fist crashed against the wall. The young man fell back with a yelp of anguish. 

"Gus!" screamed the Girl Friend, bounding forward. 

She flung her arms round the injured man, who was ruefully examininga hand which, always of an out-size, was now swelling to still furtherdimensions. 

"Gus, darling!"

A sudden chill gripped Archie. So engrossed had he been with his missionthat it had never occurred to him that the love-lorn pitcher might havetaken it into his head to follow the girl as well in the hope of puttingin a word for himself. Yet such apparently had been the case. Well, thishad definitely torn it. Two loving hearts were united again in completereconciliation, but a fat lot of good that was. It would be days beforethe misguided Looney Biddle would be able to pitch with a hand likethat. It looked like a ham already, and was still swelling. Probably thewrist was sprained. For at least a week the greatest left-handed pitcherof his time would be about as much use to the Giants in any professionalcapacity as a cold in the head. And on that crippled hand depended thefate of all the money Archie had in the world. He wished now that hehad not thwarted the fellow's simple enthusiasm. To have had his headknocked forcibly through a brick wall would not have been pleasant, butthe ultimate outcome would not have been as unpleasant as this. With aheavy heart Archie prepared to withdraw, to be alone with his sorrow. 

At this moment, however, the Girl Friend, releasing her wounded lover, made a sudden dash for him, with the plainest intention of blotting himfrom the earth. 

"No, I say! Really!" said Archie, bounding backwards. "I mean to say!"

In a series of events, all of which had been a bit thick, this, in hisopinion, achieved the maximum of thickness. It was the extreme ragged, outside edge of the limit. To brawl with a fellow-man in a public streethad been bad, but to be brawled with by a girl--the shot was not on theboard. Absolutely not on the board. There was only one thing to be done. It was dashed undignified, no doubt, for a fellow to pick up the oldwaukeesis and leg it in the face of the enemy, but there was no othercourse. Archie started to run; and, as he did so, one of the loafersmade the mistake of gripping him by the collar of his coat. 

"I got him!" observed the loafer. -There is a time for all things. Thiswas essentially not the time for anyone of the male sex to grip thecollar of Archie's coat. If a syndicate of Dempsey, Carpentier, and oneof the Zoo gorillas had endeavoured to stay his progress at that moment, they would have had reason to consider it a rash move. Archie wanted tobe elsewhere, and the blood of generations of Moffams, many of whomhad swung a wicked axe in the free-for-all mix-ups of the Middle Ages, boiled within him at any attempt to revise his plans. There was agood deal of the loafer, but it was all soft. Releasing his hold whenArchie's heel took him shrewdly on the shin, he received a nasty punchin what would have been the middle of his waistcoat if he had worn one, uttered a gurgling bleat like a wounded sheep, and collapsed against thewall. Archie, with a torn coat, rounded the corner, and sprinted downNinth Avenue. 

The suddenness of the move gave him an initial advantage. He was halfwaydown the first block before the vanguard of the pursuit poured out ofthe side street. Continuing to travel well, he skimmed past a large draywhich had pulled up across the road, and moved on. The noise of thosewho pursued was loud and clamorous in the rear, but the dray hid himmomentarily from their sight, and it was this fact which led Archie, theold campaigner, to take his next step. 

It was perfectly obvious--he was aware of this even in the novelexcitement of the chase--that a chappie couldn't hoof it at twenty-fivemiles an hour indefinitely along a main thoroughfare of a great citywithout exciting remark. He must take cover. Cover! That was the wheeze. He looked about him for cover. 

"You want a nice suit?"

It takes a great deal to startle your commercial New Yorker. The smalltailor, standing in his doorway, seemed in no way surprised at thespectacle of Archie, whom he had seen pass at a conventional walk somefive minutes before, returning like this at top speed. He assumed thatArchie had suddenly remembered that he wanted to buy something. 

This was exactly what Archie had done. More than anything else in theworld, what he wanted to do now was to get into that shop and have along talk about gents' clothing. Pulling himself up abruptly, he shotpast the small tailor into the dim interior. A confused aroma of cheapclothing greeted him. Except for a small oasis behind a grubby counter, practically all the available space was occupied by suits. Stiff suits, looking like the body when discovered by the police, hung from hooks. Limp suits, with the appearance of having swooned from exhaustion, layabout on chairs and boxes. The place was a cloth morgue, a Sargasso Seaof serge. 

Archie would not have had it otherwise. In these quiet groves ofclothing a regiment could have lain hid. 

"Something nifty in tweeds?" enquired the business-like proprietor ofthis haven, following him amiably into the shop, "Or, maybe, yes, a niceserge? Say, mister, I got a sweet thing in blue serge that'll fit youlike the paper on the wall!"

Archie wanted to talk about clothes, but not yet. 

"I say, laddie, " he said, hurriedly. "Lend me, your ear for half ajiffy!" Outside the baying of the pack had become imminent. "Stow meaway for a moment in the undergrowth, and I'll buy anything you want. "

He withdrew into the jungle. The noise outside grew in volume. Thepursuit had been delayed for a priceless few instants by the arrival ofanother dray, moving northwards, which had drawn level with the firstdray and dexterously bottled up the fairway. This obstacle had now beenovercome, and the original searchers, their ranks swelled by a few dozenmore of the leisured classes, were hot on the trail again. 

"You done a murder?" enquired the voice of the proprietor, mildlyinterested, filtering through a wall of cloth. "Well, boys will beboys!" he said, philosophically. "See anything there that you like?There some sweet things there!"

"I'm inspecting them narrowly, " replied Archie. "If you don't let thosechappies find me, I shouldn't be surprised if I bought one. "

"One?" said the proprietor, with a touch of austerity. 

"Two, " said Archie, quickly. "Or possibly three or six. "

The proprietor's cordiality returned. 

"You can't have too many nice suits, " he said, approvingly, "not a youngfeller like you that wants to look nice. All the nice girls like ayoung feller that dresses nice. When you go out of here in a suit I gothanging up there at the back, the girls 'll be all over you like fliesround a honey-pot. "

"Would you mind, " said Archie, "would you mind, as a personal favour tome, old companion, not mentioning that word 'girls'?"

He broke off. A heavy foot had crossed the threshold of the shop. 

"Say, uncle, " said a deep voice, one of those beastly voices that onlythe most poisonous blighters have, "you seen a young feller run pasthere?"

"Young feller?" The proprietor appeared to reflect. "Do you mean a youngfeller in blue, with a Homburg hat?"

"That's the duck! We lost him. Where did he go?"

"Him! Why, he come running past, quick as he could go. I wondered whathe was running for, a hot day like this. He went round the corner at thebottom of the block. "

There was a silence. 

"Well, I guess he's got away, " said the voice, regretfully. 

"The way he was travelling, " agreed the proprietor, "I wouldn't besurprised if he was in Europe by this. You want a nice suit?"

The other, curtly expressing a wish that the proprietor would go toeternal perdition and take his entire stock with him, stumped out. 

"This, " said the proprietor, tranquilly, burrowing his way to whereArchie stood and exhibiting a saffron-coloured outrage, which appearedto be a poor relation of the flannel family, "would put you back fiftydollars. And cheap!"

"Fifty dollars!"

"Sixty, I said. I don't speak always distinct. "

Archie regarded the distressing garment with a shuddering horror. Ayoung man with an educated taste in clothes, it got right in among hisnerve centres. 

"But, honestly, old soul, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but thatisn't a suit, it's just a regrettable incident!"

The proprietor turned to the door in a listening attitude. 

"I believe I hear that feller coming back, " he said. 

Archie gulped. 

"How about trying it on?" he said. "I'm not sure, after all, it isn'tfairly ripe. "

"That's the way to talk, " said the proprietor, cordially. "You try iton. You can't judge a suit, not a real nice suit like this, by lookingat it. You want to put it on. There!" He led the way to a dustymirror at the back of the shop. "Isn't that a bargain at seventydollars?... Why, say, your mother would be proud if she could see her boynow!"

A quarter of an hour later, the proprietor, lovingly kneading a littlesheaf of currency bills, eyed with a fond look the heap of clothes whichlay on the counter. 

"As nice a little lot as I've ever had in my shop!" Archie did not denythis. It was, he thought, probably only too true. 

"I only wish I could see you walking up Fifth Avenue in them!"rhapsodised the proprietor. "You'll give 'em a treat! What you goingto do with 'em? Carry 'em under your arm?" Archie shuddered strongly. "Well, then, I can send 'em for you anywhere you like. It's all the sameto me. Where'll I send 'em?"

Archie meditated. The future was black enough as it was. He shrank fromthe prospect of being confronted next day, at the height of his misery, with these appalling reach-me-downs. 

An idea struck him. 

"Yes, send 'em, " he said. 

"What's the name and address?"

"Daniel Brewster, " said Archie, "Hotel Cosmopolis. "

It was a long time since he had given his father-in-law a present. 

Archie went out into the street, and began to walk pensively down a nowpeaceful Ninth Avenue. Out of the depths that covered him, black as thepit from pole to pole, no single ray of hope came to cheer him. He couldnot, like the poet, thank whatever gods there be for his unconquerablesoul, for his soul was licked to a splinter. He felt alone andfriendless in a rotten world. With the best intentions, he had succeededonly in landing himself squarely amongst the ribstons. Why had he notbeen content with his wealth, instead of risking it on that blighted betwith Reggie? Why had he trailed the Girl Friend, dash her! He might haveknown that he would only make an ass of himself, And, because he haddone so, Looney Biddle's left hand, that priceless left hand beforewhich opposing batters quailed and wilted, was out of action, resting ina sling, careened like a damaged battleship; and any chance the Giantsmight have had of beating the Pirates was gone--gone--as surely asthat thousand dollars which should have bought a birthday present forLucille. 

A birthday present for Lucille! He groaned in bitterness of spirit. She would be coming back to-night, dear girl, all smiles and happiness, wondering what he was going to give her tomorrow. And when to-morrowdawned, all he would be able to give her would be a kind smile. A nicestate of things! A jolly situation! A thoroughly good egg, he did NOTthink!

It seemed to Archie that Nature, contrary to her usual custom ofindifference to human suffering, was mourning with him. The skywas overcast, and the sun had ceased to shine. There was a sort ofsombreness in the afternoon, which fitted in with his mood. And thensomething splashed on his face. 

It says much for Archie's pre-occupation that his first thought, as, after a few scattered drops, as though the clouds were submittingsamples for approval, the whole sky suddenly began to stream like ashower-bath, was that this was simply an additional infliction which hewas called upon to bear, On top of all his other troubles he would getsoaked to the skin or have to hang about in some doorway. He cursedrichly, and sped for shelter. 

The rain was setting about its work in earnest. The world was full ofthat rending, swishing sound which accompanies the more violent summerstorms. Thunder crashed, and lightning flicked out of the grey heavens. Out in the street the raindrops bounded up off the stones like fairyfountains. Archie surveyed them morosely from his refuge in the entranceof a shop. 

And then, suddenly, like one of those flashes which were lighting up thegloomy sky, a thought lit up his mind. 

"By Jove! If this keeps up, there won't be a ball-game to-day!"

With trembling fingers he pulled out his watch. The hands pointed tofive minutes to three. A blessed vision came to him of a moist anddisappointed crowd receiving rain-checks up at the Polo Grounds. 

"Switch it on, you blighters!" he cried, addressing the leaden clouds. "Switch it on more and more!"

It was shortly before five o'clock that a young man bounded into ajeweller's shop near the Hotel Cosmopolis--a young man who, in spite ofthe fact that his coat was torn near the collar and that he oozedwater from every inch of his drenched clothes, appeared in the highestspirits.. It was only when he spoke that the jeweller recognised inthe human sponge the immaculate youth who had looked in that morning toorder a bracelet. 

"I say, old lad, " said this young man, "you remember that jolly littlewhat-not you showed me before lunch?"

"The bracelet, sir?"

"As you observe with a manly candour which does you credit, my dearold jeweller, the bracelet. Well, produce, exhibit, and bring it forth, would you mind? Trot it out! Slip it across on a lordly dish!"

"You wished me, surely, to put it aside and send it to the Cosmopolisto-morrow?"

The young man tapped the jeweller earnestly on his substantial chest. 

"What I wished and what I wish now are two bally separate and dasheddistinct things, friend of my college days! Never put off till to-morrowwhat you can do to-day, and all that! I'm not taking any more chances. Not for me! For others, yes, but not for Archibald! Here are thedoubloons, produce the jolly bracelet Thanks!"

The jeweller counted the notes with the same unction which Archiehad observed earlier in the day in the proprietor of the second-handclothes-shop. The process made him genial. 

"A nasty, wet day, sir, it's been, " he observed, chattily. 

Archie shook his head. 

"Old friend, " he said, "you're all wrong. Far otherwise, and not a bitlike it, my dear old trafficker in gems! You've put your finger onthe one aspect of this blighted p. M. That really deserves credit andrespect. Rarely in the experience of a lifetime have I encountered a dayso absolutely bally in nearly every shape and form, but there was onething that saved it, and that was its merry old wetness! Toodle-oo, laddie!"

"Good evening, sir, " said the jeweller. 

CHAPTER XVI. ARCHIE ACCEPTS A SITUATION

Lucille moved her wrist slowly round, the better to examine the newbracelet. 

"You really are an angel, angel!" she murmured. 

"Like it?" said Archie complacently. 

"LIKE it! Why, it's gorgeous! It must have cost a fortune. "

"Oh, nothing to speak of. Just a few hard-earned pieces of eight. Just afew doubloons from the old oak chest. "

"But I didn't know there were any doubloons in the old oak chest. "

"Well, as a matter of fact, " admitted Archie, "at one point in theproceedings there weren't. But an aunt of mine in England--peace beon her head!--happened to send me a chunk of the necessary at what youmight call the psychological moment. "

"And you spent it all on a birthday present for me! Archie!" Lucillegazed at her husband adoringly. "Archie, do you know what I think?"

"What?"

"You're the perfect man!"

"No, really! What ho!"

"Yes, " said Lucille firmly. "I've long suspected it, and now I know. Idon't think there's anybody like you in the world. "

Archie patted her hand. 

"It's a rummy thing, " he observed, "but your father said almost exactlythat to me only yesterday. Only I don't fancy he meant the same as you. To be absolutely frank, his exact expression was that he thanked Godthere was only one of me. "

A troubled look came into Lucille's grey eyes. 

"It's a shame about father. I do wish he appreciated you. But youmustn't be too hard on him. "

"Me?" said Archie. "Hard on your father? Well, dash it all, I don'tthink I treat him with what you might call actual brutality, what! Imean to say, my whole idea is rather to keep out of the old lad's wayand curl up in a ball if I can't dodge him. I'd just as soon be hard ona stampeding elephant! I wouldn't for the world say anything derogatory, as it were, to your jolly old pater, but there is no getting away fromthe fact that he's by way of being one of our leading man-eating fishes. It would be idle to deny that he considers that you let down the proudold name of Brewster a bit when you brought me in and laid me on themat. "

"Anyone would be lucky to get you for a son-in-law, precious. "

"I fear me, light of my life, the dad doesn't see eye to eye with youon that point. No, every time I get hold of a daisy, I give him anotherchance, but it always works out at 'He loves me not!'"

"You must make allowances for him, darling. "

"Right-o! But I hope devoutly that he doesn't catch me at it. I've asort of idea that if the old dad discovered that I was making allowancesfor him, he would have from ten to fifteen fits. "

"He's worried just now, you know. "

"I didn't know. He doesn't confide in me much. "

"He's worried about that waiter. "

"What waiter, queen of my soul?"

"A man called Salvatore. Father dismissed him some time ago. "

"Salvatore!"

"Probably you don't remember him. He used to wait on this table. "

"Why--"

"And father dismissed him, apparently, and now there's all sorts oftrouble. You see, father wants to build this new hotel of his, and hethought he'd got the site and everything and could start building rightaway: and now he finds that this man Salvatore's mother owns a littlenewspaper and tobacco shop right in the middle of the site, and there'sno way of getting him out without buying the shop, and he won't sell. Atleast, he's made his mother promise that she won't sell. "

"A boy's best friend is his mother, " said Archie approvingly. "I had asort of idea all along--"

"So father's in despair. "

Archie drew at his cigarette meditatively. 

"I remember a chappie--a policeman he was, as a matter of fact, andincidentally a fairly pronounced blighter--remarking to me some timeago that you could trample on the poor man's face but you mustn't besurprised if he bit you in the leg while you were doing it. Apparentlythis is what has happened to the old dad. I had a sort of idea all alongthat old friend Salvatore would come out strong in the end if you onlygave him time. Brainy sort of feller! Great pal of mine. "-Lucille'ssmall face lightened. She gazed at Archie with proud affection. Shefelt that she ought to have known that he was the one to solve thisdifficulty. 

"You're wonderful, darling! Is he really a friend of yours?"

"Absolutely. Many's the time he and I have chatted in this verygrill-room. "

"Then it's all right. If you went to him and argued with him, he wouldagree to sell the shop, and father would be happy. Think how gratefulfather would be to you! It would make all the difference. "

Archie turned this over in his mind. 

"Something in that, " he agreed. 

"It would make him see what a pet lambkin you really are!"

"Well, " said Archie, "I'm bound to say that any scheme which what youmight call culminates in your father regarding me as a pet lambkin oughtto receive one's best attention. How much did he offer Salvatore for hisshop?"

"I don't know. There is father. --Call him over and ask him. "

Archie glanced over to where Mr. Brewster had sunk moodily into a chairat a neighbouring table. It was plain even at that distance that DanielBrewster had his troubles and was bearing them with an ill grace. He wasscowling absently at the table-cloth. 

"YOU call him, " said Archie, having inspected his formidable relative. "You know him better. "

"Let's go over to him. "

They crossed the room. Lucille sat down opposite her father. -Archiedraped himself over a chair in the background. 

"Father, dear, " said Lucille. "Archie has got an idea. "

"Archie?" said Mr. Brewster incredulously. 

"This is me, " said Archie, indicating himself with a spoon. "The tall, distinguished-looking bird. "

"What new fool-thing is he up to now?"

"It's a splendid idea, father. He wants to help you over your newhotel. "

"Wants to run it for me, I suppose?"

"By Jove!" said Archie, reflectively. "That's not a bad scheme! I neverthought of running an hotel. I shouldn't mind taking a stab at it. "

"He has thought of a way of getting rid of Salvatore and his shop. "

For the first time Mr. Brewster's interest in the conversation seemed tostir. He looked sharply at his son-in-law. 

"He has, has he?" he said. 

Archie balanced a roll on a fork and inserted a plate underneath. Theroll bounded away into a corner. 

"Sorry!" said Archie. "My fault, absolutely! I owe you a roll. I'll signa bill for it. Oh, about this sportsman Salvatore, Well, it's like this, you know. He and I are great pals. I've known him for years and years. At least, it seems like years and years. Lu was suggesting that Iseek him out in his lair and ensnare him with my diplomatic manner andsuperior brain power and what not. "

"It was your idea, precious, " said Lucille. 

Mr. Brewster was silent. --Much as it went against the grain to have toadmit it, there seemed to be something in this. 

"What do you propose to do?"

"Become a jolly old ambassador. How much did you offer the chappie?"

"Three thousand dollars. Twice as much as the place is worth. He'sholding out on me for revenge. "

"Ah, but how did you offer it to him, what? I mean to say, I bet you gotyour lawyer to write him a letter full of whereases, peradventures, andparties of the first part, and so forth. No good, old companion!"

"Don't call me old companion!"

"All wrong, laddie! Nothing like it, dear heart! No good at all, friendof my youth! Take it from your Uncle Archibald! I'm a student of humannature, and I know a thing or two. "

"That's not much, " growled Mr. Brewster, who was finding hisson-in-law's superior manner a little trying. 

"Now, don't interrupt, father, " said Lucille, severely. "Can't you seethat Archie is going to be tremendously clever in a minute?"

"He's got to show me!"

"What you ought to do, " said Archie, "is to let me go and see him, taking the stuff in crackling bills. I'll roll them about on thetable in front of him. That'll fetch him!" He prodded Mr. Brewsterencouragingly with a roll. "I'll tell you what to do. Give me threethousand of the best and crispest, and I'll undertake to buy that shop. It can't fail, laddie!"

"Don't call me laddie!" Mr. Brewster pondered. "Very well, " he said atlast. "I didn't know you had so much sense, " he added grudgingly. 

"Oh, positively!" said Archie. "Beneath a rugged exterior I hide a brainlike a buzz-saw. Sense? I exude it, laddie; I drip with it. "

There were moments during the ensuing days when Mr. Brewster permittedhimself to hope; but more frequent were the moments when he told himselfthat a pronounced chump like his son-in-law could not fail somehow tomake a mess of the negotiations. His relief, therefore, when Archiecurveted into his private room and announced that he had succeeded wasgreat. 

"You really managed to make that wop sell out?"

Archie brushed some papers off the desk with a careless gesture, andseated himself on the vacant spot. 

"Absolutely! I spoke to him as one old friend to another, sprayed thebills all over the place; and he sang a few bars from 'Rigoletto, ' andsigned on the dotted line. "

"You're not such a fool as you look, " owned Mr. Brewster. 

Archie scratched a match on the desk and lit a cigarette. 

"It's a jolly little shop, " he said. "I took quite a fancy to it. Fullof newspapers, don't you know, and cheap novels, and some weird-lookingsort of chocolates, and cigars with the most fearfully attractivelabels. I think I'll make a success of it. It's bang in the middle of adashed good neighbourhood. One of these days somebody will be buildinga big hotel round about there, and that'll help trade a lot. I lookforward to ending my days on the other side of the counter with afull set of white whiskers and a skull-cap, beloved by everybody. Everybody'll say, 'Oh, you MUST patronise that quaint, delightful oldblighter! He's quite a character. '"

Mr. Brewster's air of grim satisfaction had given way to a look ofdiscomfort, almost of alarm. He presumed his son-in-law was merelyindulging in badinage; but even so, his words were not soothing. 

"Well, I'm much obliged, " he said. "That infernal shop was holding upeverything. Now I can start building right away. "

Archie raised his eyebrows. 

"But, my dear old top, I'm sorry to spoil your daydreams and stop youchasing rainbows, and all that, but aren't you forgetting that the shopbelongs to me? I don't at all know that I want to sell, either!"

"I gave you the money to buy that shop!"

"And dashed generous of you it was, too!" admitted Archie, unreservedly. "It was the first money you ever gave me, and I shall always, tellinterviewers that it was you who founded my fortunes. Some day, when I'mthe Newspaper-and-Tobacco-Shop King, I'll tell the world all about it inmy autobiography. "

Mr. Brewster rose dangerously from his seat. 

"Do you think you can hold me up, you--you worm?"

"Well, " said Archie, "the way I look at it is this. Ever since we met, you've been after me to become one of the world's workers, and earn aliving for myself, and what not; and now I see a way to repay you foryour confidence and encouragement. You'll look me up sometimes at thegood old shop, won't you?" He slid off the table and moved towards thedoor. "There won't be any formalities where you are concerned. You cansign bills for any reasonable amount any time you want a cigar or astick of chocolate. Well, toodle-oo!"

"Stop!"

"Now what?"

"How much do you want for that damned shop?"

"I don't want money. -I want a job. -If you are going to take my life-workaway from me, you ought to give me something else to do. "

"What job?"

"You suggested it yourself the other day. I want to manage your newhotel. "

"Don't be a fool! What do you know about managing an hotel?"

"Nothing. It will be your pleasing task to teach me the business whilethe shanty is being run up. "

There was a pause, while Mr. Brewster chewed three inches off apen-holder. 

"Very well, " he said at last. 

"Topping!" said Archie. "I knew you'd, see it. I'll study your methods, what! Adding some of my own, of course. You know, I've thought of oneimprovement on the Cosmopolis already. "

"Improvement on the Cosmopolis!" cried Mr. Brewster, gashed in hisfinest feelings. 

"Yes. There's one point where the old Cosmop slips up badly, and I'mgoing to see that it's corrected at my little shack. Customers will beentreated to leave their boots outside their doors at night, and they'llfind them cleaned in the morning. Well, pip, pip! I must be popping. Time is money, you know, with us business men. "

CHAPTER XVII. BROTHER BILL'S ROMANCE

"Her eyes, " said Bill Brewster, "are like--like--what's the word Iwant?"

He looked across at Lucille and Archie. Lucille was leaning forwardwith an eager and interested face; Archie was leaning back with hisfinger-tips together and his eyes closed. This was not the first timesince their meeting in Beale's Auction Rooms that his brother-in-law hadtouched on the subject of the girl he had become engaged to marry duringhis trip to England. Indeed, Brother Bill had touched on very littleelse: and Archie, though of a sympathetic nature and fond of his youngrelative, was beginning to feel that he had heard all he wished to hearabout Mabel Winchester. Lucille, on the other hand, was absorbed. Herbrother's recital had thrilled her. 

"Like--" said Bill. "Like--"

"Stars?" suggested Lucille. 

"Stars, " said Bill gratefully. "Exactly the word. Twin stars shining ina clear sky on a summer night. Her teeth are like--what shall I say?"

"Pearls?"

"Pearls. And her hair is a lovely brown, like leaves in autumn. Infact, " concluded Bill, slipping down from the heights with something ofa jerk, "she's a corker. Isn't she, Archie?"

Archie opened his eyes. 

"Quite right, old top!" he said. "It was the only thing to do. "

"What the devil are you talking about?" demanded Bill coldly. He hadbeen suspicious all along of Archie's statement that he could listenbetter with his eyes shut. 

"Eh? Oh, sorry! Thinking of something else. "

"You were asleep. "

"No, no, positively and distinctly not. Frightfully interested and raptand all that, only I didn't quite get what you said. "

"I said that Mabel was a corker. "

"Oh, absolutely in every respect. "

"There!" Bill turned to Lucille triumphantly. "You hear that? And Archiehas only seen her photograph. Wait till he sees her in the flesh. "

"My dear old chap!" said Archie, shocked. "Ladies present! I mean tosay, what!"

"I'm afraid that father will be the one you'll find it hard toconvince. "

"Yes, " admitted her brother gloomily. 

"Your Mabel sounds perfectly charming, but--well, you know what fatheris. It IS a pity she sings in the chorus. "

"She-hasn't much of a voice, "-argued Bill-in extenuation. 

"All the same--"

Archie, the conversation having reached a topic on which he consideredhimself one of the greatest living authorities--to wit, the unlovabledisposition of his father-in-law--addressed the meeting as one who has aright to be heard. 

"Lucille's absolutely right, old thing. --Absolutely correct-o! Youresteemed progenitor is a pretty tough nut, and it's no good trying toget away from it. -And I'm sorry to have to say it, old bird, but, if youcome bounding in with part of the personnel of the ensemble on your armand try to dig a father's blessing out of him, he's extremely apt tostab you in the gizzard. "

"I wish, " said Bill, annoyed, "you wouldn't talk as though Mabel werethe ordinary kind of chorus-girl. She's only on the stage because hermother's hard-up and she wants to educate her little brother. "

"I say, " said Archie, concerned. "Take my tip, old top. In chatting thematter over with the pater, don't dwell too much on that aspect ofthe affair. --I've been watching him closely, and it's about all hecan stick, having to support ME. If you ring in a mother and a littlebrother on him, he'll crack under the strain. "

"Well, I've got to do something about it. Mabel will be over here in aweek. "

"Great Scot! You never told us that. "

"Yes. She's going to be in the new Billington show. And, naturally, shewill expect to meet my family. I've told her all about you. "

"Did you explain father to her?" asked Lucille. 

"Well, I just said she mustn't mind him, as his bark was worse than hisbite. "

"Well, " said Archie, thoughtfully, "he hasn't bitten me yet, so you maybe right. But you've got to admit that he's a bit of a barker. "

Lucille considered. 

"Really, Bill, I think your best plan would be to go straight to fatherand tell him the whole thing. --You don't want him to hear about it in aroundabout way. "

"The trouble is that, whenever I'm with father, I can't think ofanything to say. "

Archie found himself envying his father-in-law this mercifuldispensation of Providence; for, where he himself was concerned, therehad been no lack of eloquence on Bill's part. In the brief period inwhich he had known him, Bill had talked all the time and always onthe one topic. As unpromising a subject as the tariff laws was easilydiverted by him into a discussion of the absent Mabel. 

"When I'm with father, " said Bill, "I sort of lose my nerve, andyammer. "

"Dashed awkward, " said Archie, politely. He sat up suddenly. "I say! ByJove! I know what you want, old friend! Just thought of it!"

"That busy brain is never still, " explained Lucille. 

"Saw it in the paper this morning. An advertisement of a book, don't youknow. "

"I've no time for reading. "

"You've time for reading this one, laddie, for you can't afford to missit. It's a what-d'you-call-it book. What I mean to say is, if you readit and take its tips to heart, it guarantees to make you a convincingtalker. The advertisement says so. The advertisement's all about achappie whose name I forget, whom everybody loved because he talked sowell. And, mark you, before he got hold of this book--The PersonalityThat Wins was the name of it, if I remember rightly--he was known toall the lads in the office as Silent Samuel or something. Or it may havebeen Tongue-Tied Thomas. Well, one day he happened by good luck to blowin the necessary for the good old P. That W. 's, and now, whenever theywant someone to go and talk Rockefeller or someone into lending them amillion or so, they send for Samuel. Only now they call him Sammy theSpell-Binder and fawn upon him pretty copiously and all that. How aboutit, old son? How do we go?"

"What perfect nonsense, " said Lucille. 

"I don't know, " said Bill, plainly impressed. "There might be somethingin it. "

"Absolutely!" said Archie. "I remember it said, 'Talk convincingly, andno man will ever treat you with cold, unresponsive indifference. ' Well, cold, unresponsive indifference is just what you don't want the pater totreat you with, isn't it, or is it, or isn't it, what? I mean, what?"

"It sounds all right, " said Bill. 

"It IS all right, " said Archie. "It's a scheme! I'll go farther. It's anegg!"

"The idea I had, " said Bill, "was to see if I couldn't get Mabel a jobin some straight comedy. That would take the curse off the thing a bit. Then I wouldn't have to dwell on the chorus end of the business, yousee. "

"Much more sensible, " said Lucille. 

"But what a-deuce of a sweat"--argued Archie. "I mean to say, having topop round and nose about and all that. "

"Aren't you willing to take a little trouble for your strickenbrother-in-law, worm?" said Lucille severely. 

"Oh, absolutely! My idea was to get this book and coach the dear oldchap. Rehearse him, don't you know. He could bone up the early chaptersa bit and then drift round and try his convincing talk on me. "

"It might be a good idea, " said Bill reflectively. 

"Well, I'll tell you what _I'm_ going to do, " said Lucille. "I'm goingto get Bill to introduce me to his Mabel, and, if she's as nice as hesays she is, _I'll_ go to father and talk convincingly to him. "

"You're an ace!" said Bill. 

"Absolutely!" agreed Archie cordially. "MY partner, what! All the same, we ought to keep the book as a second string, you know. I mean to say, you are a young and delicately nurtured girl--full of sensibility andshrinking what's-its-name and all that--and you know what the jolly oldpater is. He might bark at you and put you out of action in the firstround. Well, then, if anything like that happened, don't you see, wecould unleash old Bill, the trained silver-tongued expert, and let himhave a shot. Personally, I'm all for the P. That W. 's. "-"Me, too, " saidBill. 

Lucille looked at her watch. 

"Good gracious! It's nearly one o'clock!"

"No!" Archie heaved himself up from his chair. "Well, it's a shame tobreak up this feast of reason and flow of soul and all that, but, if wedon't leg it with some speed, we shall be late. "

"We're lunching at the Nicholson's!" explained Lucille to her brother. "I wish you were coming too. "

"Lunch!" Bill shook his head with a kind of tolerant scorn. "Lunch meansnothing to me these days. I've other things to think of besides food. "He looked as spiritual as his rugged features would permit. "I haven'twritten to Her yet to-day. "

"But, dash it, old scream, if she's going to be over here in a week, what's the good of writing? The letter would cross her. "

"I'm not mailing my letters to England. " said Bill. "I'm keeping themfor her to read when she arrives. "

"My sainted aunt!" said Archie. 

Devotion like this was something beyond his outlook. 

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SAUSAGE CHAPPIE

The personality that wins cost Archie two dollars in cash and a lot ofembarrassment when he asked for it at the store. To buy a treatise ofthat name would automatically seem to argue that you haven't a winningpersonality already, and Archie was at some pains to explain to the girlbehind the counter that he wanted it for a friend. The girl seemed moreinterested in his English accent than in his explanation, and Archiewas uncomfortably aware, as he receded, that she was practising it in anundertone for the benefit of her colleagues and fellow-workers. However, what is a little discomfort, if endured in friendship's name?

He was proceeding up Broadway after leaving the store when heencountered Reggie van Tuyl, who was drifting along in somnambulisticfashion near Thirty-Ninth Street. 

"Hullo, Reggie old thing!" said Archie. 

"Hullo!" said Reggie, a man of few words. 

"I've just been buying a book for Bill Brewster, " went on Archie. "Itappears that old Bill--What's the matter?"

He broke off his recital abruptly. A sort of spasm had passed acrosshis companion's features. The hand holding Archie's arm had tightenedconvulsively. One would have said that Reginald had received a shock. 

"It's nothing, " said Reggie. "I'm all right now. I caught sight of thatfellow's clothes rather suddenly. They shook me a bit. I'm all rightnow, " he said, bravely. 

Archie, following his friend's gaze, understood. Reggie van Tuyl wasnever at his strongest in the morning, and he had a sensitive eye forclothes. He had been known to resign from clubs because members exceededthe bounds in the matter of soft shirts with dinner-jackets. And theshort, thick-set man who was standing just in front of them in attitudeof restful immobility was certainly no dandy. His best friend couldnot have called him dapper. Take him for all in all and on the hoof, hemight have been posing as a model for a sketch of What the Well-DressedMan Should Not Wear. 

In costume, as in most other things, it is best to take a definite lineand stick to it. This man had obviously vacillated. His neck was swathedin a green scarf; he wore an evening-dress coat; and his lower limbswere draped in a pair of tweed trousers built for a larger man. To thenorth he was bounded by a straw hat, to the south by brown shoes. 

Archie surveyed the man's back carefully. 

"Bit thick!" he said, sympathetically. "But of course Broadway isn'tFifth Avenue. What I mean to say is, Bohemian licence and what not. Broadway's crammed with deuced brainy devils who don't care how theylook. Probably this bird is a master-mind of some species. "

"All the same, man's no right to wear evening-dress coat with tweedtrousers. "

"Absolutely not! I see what you mean. "

At this point the sartorial offender turned. Seen from the front, he waseven more unnerving. He appeared to possess no shirt, though this defectwas offset by the fact that the tweed trousers fitted snugly under thearms. He was not a handsome man. At his best he could never have beenthat, and in the recent past he had managed to acquire a scar that ranfrom the corner of his mouth half-way across his cheek. Even when hisface was in repose he had an odd expression; and when, as he chancedto do now, he smiled, odd became a mild adjective, quite inadequatefor purposes of description. It was not an unpleasant face, however. Unquestionably genial, indeed. There was something in it that had aquality of humorous appeal. 

Archie started. He stared at the man, Memory stirred. 

"Great Scot!" he cried. "It's the Sausage Chappie!"

Reginald van Tuyl gave a little moan. He was not used to this sort ofthing. A sensitive young man as regarded scenes, Archie's behaviourunmanned him. For Archie, releasing his arm, had bounded forward and wasshaking the other's hand warmly. 

"Well, well, well! My dear old chap! You must remember me, what? No?Yes?"

The man with the scar seemed puzzled. He shuffled the brown shoes, patted the straw hat, and eyed Archie questioningly. 

"I don't seem to place you, " he said. 

Archie slapped the back of the evening-dress coat. He linked his armaffectionately with that of the dress-reformer. 

"We met outside St Mihiel in the war. You gave me a bit of sausage. One of the most sporting events in history. Nobody but a real sportsmanwould have parted with a bit of sausage at that moment to a stranger. Never forgotten it, by Jove. Saved my life, absolutely. Hadn't cheweda morse for eight hours. Well, have you got anything on? I mean to say, you aren't booked for lunch or any rot of that species, are you? Fine!Then I move we all toddle off and get a bite somewhere. " He squeezedthe other's arm fondly. "Fancy meeting you again like this! I've oftenwondered what became of you. But, by Jove, I was forgetting. Dashed rudeof me. My friend, Mr. Van Tuyl. "

Reggie gulped. The longer he looked at it, the harder this man's costumewas to bear. His eye passed shudderingly from the brown shoes to thetweed trousers, to the green scarf, from the green scarf to the strawhat. 

"Sorry, " he mumbled. "Just remembered. Important date. Late already. Er--see you some time--"

He melted away, a broken man. Archie was not sorry to see him go. Reggiewas a good chap, but he would undoubtedly have been de trop at thisreunion. 

"I vote we go to the Cosmopolis, " he said, steering his newly-foundfriend through the crowd. "The browsing and sluicing isn't bad there, and I can sign the bill which is no small consideration nowadays. "

The Sausage Chappie chuckled amusedly. 

"I can't go to a place like the Cosmopolis looking like this. "

Archie, was a little embarrassed. 

"Oh, I don't know, you know, don't you know!" he said. "Still, since youhave brought the topic up, you DID get the good old wardrobe a bit mixedthis morning what? I mean to say, you seem absent-mindedly, as itwere, to have got hold of samples from a good number of your varioussuitings. "

"Suitings? How do you mean, suitings? I haven't any suitings! Who do youthink I am? Vincent Astor? All I have is what I stand up in. "

Archie was shocked. This tragedy touched him. He himself had never hadany money in his life, but somehow he had always seemed to manage tohave plenty of clothes. How this was he could not say. He had always hada vague sort of idea that tailors were kindly birds who never failed tohave a pair of trousers or something up their sleeve to present to thedeserving. There was the drawback, of course, that once they had givenyou things they were apt to write you rather a lot of letters about it;but you soon managed to recognise their handwriting, and then it was asimple task to extract their communications from your morning mail anddrop them in the waste-paper basket. This was the first case he hadencountered of a man who was really short of clothes. 

"My dear old lad, " he said, briskly, "this must be remedied! Oh, positively! This must be remedied at once! I suppose my things wouldn'tfit you? No. Well, I tell you what. We'll wangle something frommy father-in-law. Old Brewster, you know, the fellow who runs theCosmopolis. His'll fit you like the paper on the wall, because he'sa tubby little blighter, too. What I mean to say is, he's also one ofthose sturdy, square, fine-looking chappies of about the middle height. By the way, where are you stopping these days?"

"Nowhere just at present. I thought of taking one of thoseself-contained Park benches. "

"Are you broke?"

"Am I!"

Archie was concerned. 

"You ought to get a job. "

"I ought. But somehow I don't seem able to. "

"What did you do before the war?"

"I've forgotten. "

"Forgotten!"

"Forgotten. "

"How do you mean--forgotten? You can't mean--FORGOTTEN?"

"Yes. It's quite gone. "

"But I mean to say. You can't have forgotten a thing like that. "

"Can't I! I've forgotten all sorts of things. Where I was born. How oldI am. Whether I'm married or single. What my name is--"

"Well, I'm dashed!" said Archie, staggered. "But you remembered aboutgiving me a bit of sausage outside St. Mihiel?"

"No, I didn't. I'm taking your word for it. For all I know you may beluring me into some den to rob me of my straw hat. I don't know youfrom Adam. But I like your conversation--especially the part abouteating--and I'm taking a chance. "

Archie was concerned. 

"Listen, old bean. Make an effort. You must remember that sausageepisode? It was just outside St. Mihiel, about five in the evening. Yourlittle lot were lying next to my little lot, and we happened to meet, and I said 'What ho!' and you said 'Halloa!' and I said 'What ho! Whatho!' and you said 'Have a bit of sausage?' and I said 'What ho! What ho!What HO!'"

"The dialogue seems to have been darned sparkling but I don't rememberit. It must have been after that that I stopped one. I don't seem quiteto have caught up with myself since I got hit. "

"Oh! That's how you got that scar?"

"No. I got that jumping through a plate-glass window in London onArmistice night. "

"What on earth did you do that for?"

"Oh, I don't know. It seemed a good idea at the time. "

"But if you can remember a thing like that, why can't you remember yourname?"

"I remember everything that happened after I came out of hospital. It'sthe part before that's gone. "

Archie patted him on the shoulder. 

"I know just what you want. You need a bit of quiet and repose, to thinkthings over and so forth. You mustn't go sleeping on Park benches. Won'tdo at all. Not a bit like it. You must shift to the Cosmopolis. It isn'thalf a bad spot, the old Cosmop. I didn't like it much the first nightI was there, because there was a dashed tap that went drip-drip-drip allnight and kept me awake, but the place has its points. "

"Is the Cosmopolis giving free board and lodging these days?"

"Rather! That'll be all right. Well, this is the spot. We'll start bytrickling up to the old boy's suite and looking over his reach-me-downs. I know the waiter on his floor. A very sound chappie. He'll let us inwith his pass-key. "

And so it came about that Mr. Daniel Brewster, returning to his suite inthe middle of lunch in order to find a paper dealing with the subject hewas discussing with his guest, the architect of his new hotel, was awareof a murmur of voices behind the closed door of his bedroom. Recognisingthe accents of his son-in-law, he breathed an oath and charged in. Heobjected to Archie wandering at large about his suite. 

The sight that met his eyes when he opened the door did nothing tosoothe him. The floor was a sea of clothes. There were coats on thechairs, trousers on the bed, shirts on the bookshelf. And in the middleof his welter stood Archie, with a man who, to Mr. Brewster's heatedeye, looked like a tramp comedian out of a burlesque show. 

"Great Godfrey!" ejaculated Mr. Brewster. 

Archie looked up with a friendly smile. 

"Oh, halloa-halloa!" he said, affably, "We were just glancing throughyour spare scenery to see if we couldn't find something for my pal here. This is Mr. Brewster, my father-in-law, old man. "

Archie scanned his relative's twisted features. Something in hisexpression seemed not altogether encouraging. He decided that thenegotiations had better be conducted in private. "One moment, old lad, "he said to his new friend. "I just want to have a little talk with myfather-in-law in the other room. Just a little friendly business chat. You stay here. "

In the other room Mr. Brewster turned on Archie like a wounded lion ofthe desert. 

"What the--!"

Archie secured one of his coat-buttons and began to massage itaffectionately. 

"Ought to have explained!" said Archie, "only didn't want to interruptyour lunch. The sportsman on the horizon is a dear old pal of mine--"

Mr. Brewster wrenched himself free. 

"What the devil do you mean, you worm, by bringing tramps into mybedroom and messing about with my clothes?"

"That's just what I'm trying to explain, if you'll only listen. Thisbird is a bird I met in France during the war. He gave me a bit ofsausage outside St. Mihiel--"

"Damn you and him and the sausage!"

"Absolutely. But listen. He can't remember who he is or where he wasborn or what his name is, and he's broke; so, dash it, I must look afterhim. You see, he gave me a bit of sausage. "

Mr. Brewster's frenzy gave way to an ominous calm. 

"I'll give him two seconds to clear out of here. If he isn't gone bythen I'll have him thrown out. "

Archie was shocked. 

"You don't mean that?"

"I do mean that. "

"But where is he to go?"

"Outside. "

"But you don't understand. This chappie has lost his memory because hewas wounded in the war. Keep that fact firmly fixed in the old bean. Hefought for you. Fought and bled for you. Bled profusely, by Jove. AND hesaved my life!"

"If I'd got nothing else against him, that would be enough. "

"But you can't sling a chappie out into the cold hard world who bled ingallons to make the world safe for the Hotel Cosmopolis. "

Mr. Brewster looked ostentatiously at his watch. 

"Two seconds!" he said. 

There was a silence. Archie appeared to be thinking. "Right-o!" he saidat last. "No need to get the wind up. I know where he can go. It's justoccurred to me I'll put him up at my little shop. "

The purple ebbed from Mr. Brewster's face. Such was his emotion that hehad forgotten that infernal shop. He sat down. There was more silence. 

"Oh, gosh!" said Mr. Brewster. 

"I knew you would be reasonable about it, " said Archie, approvingly. "Now, honestly, as man to man, how do we go?"

"What do you want me to do?" growled Mr. Brewster. 

"I thought you might put the chappie up for a while, and give him achance to look round and nose about a bit. "

"I absolutely refuse to give any more loafers free board and lodging. "

"Any MORE?"

"Well, he would be the second, wouldn't he?"

Archie looked pained. 

"It's true, " he said, "that when I first came here I was temporarilyresting, so to speak; but didn't I go right out and grab the managershipof your new hotel? Positively!"

"I will NOT adopt this tramp. "

"Well, find him a job, then. "

"What sort of a job?"

"Oh, any old sort"

"He can be a waiter if he likes. "

"All right; I'll put the matter before him. "

He returned to the bedroom. The Sausage Chappie was gazing fondly intothe mirror with a spotted tie draped round his neck. 

"I say, old top, " said Archie, apologetically, "the Emperor of theBlighters out yonder says you can have a job here as waiter, and hewon't do another dashed thing for you. How about it?"

"Do waiters eat?"

"I suppose so. Though, by Jove, come to think of it, I've never seen oneat it. "

"That's good enough for me!" said the Sausage Chappie. "When do Ibegin?"

CHAPTER XIX. REGGIE COMES TO LIFE

The advantage of having plenty of time on one's hands is that one hasleisure to attend to the affairs of all one's circle of friends; andArchie, assiduously as he watched over the destinies of the SausageChappie, did not neglect the romantic needs of his brother-in-law Bill. A few days later, Lucille, returning one morning to their mutual suite, found her husband seated in an upright chair at the table, an unusuallystern expression on his amiable face. A large cigar was in the cornerof his mouth. The fingers of one hand rested in the armhole of hiswaistcoat: with the other hand he tapped menacingly on the table. 

As she gazed upon him, wondering what could be the matter with him, Lucille was suddenly aware of Bill's presence. He had emerged sharplyfrom the bedroom and was walking briskly across the floor. He came to ahalt in front of the table. 

"Father!" said Bill. 

Archie looked up sharply, frowning heavily over his cigar. 

"Well, my boy, " he said in a strange, rasping voice. "What is it? Speakup, my boy, speak up! Why the devil can't you speak up? This is my busyday!"

"What on earth are you doing?" asked Lucille. 

Archie waved her away with the large gesture of a man of blood and ironinterrupted while concentrating. 

"Leave us, woman! We would be alone! Retire into the jolly oldbackground and amuse yourself for a bit. Read a book. Do acrostics. Charge ahead, laddie. "

"Father!" said Bill, again. 

"Yes, my boy, yes? What is it?"

"Father!"

Archie picked up the red-covered volume that lay on the table. 

"Half a mo', old son. Sorry to stop you, but I knew there was something. I've just remembered. Your walk. All wrong!"

"All wrong?"

"All wrong! Where's the chapter on the Art. Of Walking? Here we are. Listen, dear old soul. Drink this in. 'In walking, one should strive toacquire that swinging, easy movement from the hips. The correctly-poisedwalker seems to float along, as it were. ' Now, old bean, you didn'tfloat a dam' bit. You just galloped in like a chappie charging intoa railway restaurant for a bowl of soup when his train leaves in twominutes. Dashed important, this walking business, you know. Get startedwrong, and where are you? Try it again.... Much better. " He turned toLucille. "Notice him float along that time? Absolutely skimmed, what?"

Lucille had taken a seat, -and was waiting for enlightenment. 

"Are you and Bill going into vaudeville?" she asked. 

Archie, scrutinising-his-brother-in-law closely, had further criticismto make. 

"'The man of self-respect and self-confidence, '" he read, "'stands erectin an easy, natural, graceful attitude. Heels not too far apart, headerect, eyes to the front with a level gaze'--get your gaze level, oldthing!--'shoulders thrown back, arms hanging naturally at the sides whennot otherwise employed'--that means that, if he tries to hit you, it'sall right to guard--'chest expanded naturally, and abdomen'--this isno place for you, Lucille. Leg it out of earshot--'ab--what I saidbefore--drawn in somewhat and above all not protruded. ' Now, have yougot all that? Yes, you look all right. Carry on, laddie, carry on. Let'shave two-penn'orth of the Dynamic Voice and the Tone of Authority--someof the full, rich, round stuff we hear so much about!"

Bill fastened a gimlet eye upon his brother-in-law and drew a deepbreath. 

"Father!" he said. "Father!"

"You'll have to brighten up Bill's dialogue a lot, " said Lucille, critically, "or you will never get bookings. "

"Father!"

"I mean, it's all right as far as it goes, but it's sort of monotonous. Besides, one of you ought to be asking questions and the otheranswering. Mill ought to be saying, 'Who was that lady I saw you comingdown the street with?' so that you would be able to say, 'That wasn't alady. That was my wife. ' I KNOW! I've been to lots of vaudeville shows. "

Bill relaxed his attitude. He deflated his chest, spread his heels, andceased to draw in his abdomen. 

"We'd better try this another time, when we're alone, " he said, frigidly. "I can't do myself justice. "

"Why do you want to do yourself justice?" asked Lucille. 

"Right-o!" said Archie, affably, casting off his forbidding expressionlike a garment. "Rehearsal postponed. I was just putting old Billthrough it, " he explained, "with a view to getting him into mid-seasonform for the jolly old pater. "

"Oh!" Lucille's voice was the voice of one who sees light in darkness. "When Bill walked in like a cat on hot bricks and stood there lookingstuffed, that was just the Personality That Wins!"

"That was it. "

"Well, you couldn't blame me for not recognising it, could you?"

Archie patted her head paternally. 

"A little less of the caustic critic stuff, " he said. "Bill will beall right on the night. If you hadn't come in then and put him off hisstroke, he'd have shot out some amazing stuff, full of authority anddynamic accents and what not. I tell you, light of my soul, old Bill isall right! He's got the winning personality up a tree, ready wheneverhe wants to go and get it. Speaking as his backer and trainer, I thinkhe'll twist your father round his little finger. Absolutely! It wouldn'tsurprise me if at the end of five minutes the good old dad startedpumping through hoops and sitting up for lumps of sugar. "

"It would surprise ME. "

"Ah, that's because you haven't seen old Bill in action. You crabbed hisact before he had begun to spread himself. "

"It isn't that at all. The reason why I think that Bill, however winninghis personality may be, won't persuade father to let him marry a girl inthe chorus is something that happened last night. "

"Last night?"

"Well, at three o'clock this morning. It's on the front page of theearly editions of the evening papers. I brought one in for you to see, only you were so busy. Look! There it is!"

Archie seized the paper. 

"Oh, Great Scot!"

"What is it?" asked Bill, irritably. "Don't stand goggling there! Whatthe devil is it?"

"Listen to this, old thing!"

 REVELRY BY NIGHT. SPIRITED BATTLE ROYAL AT HOTEL COSMOPOLIS. THE HOTEL DETECTIVE HAD A GOOD HEART BUT PAULINE PACKED THE PUNCH. 

The logical contender for Jack Dempsey's championship honours has beendiscovered; and, in an age where women are stealing men's jobs all thetime, it will not come as a surprise to our readers to learn that shebelongs to the sex that is more deadly than the male. Her name is MissPauline Preston, and her wallop is vouched for under oath--under manyoaths--by Mr. Timothy O'Neill, known to his intimates as Pie-Face, whoholds down the arduous job of detective at the Hotel Cosmopolis. 

At three o'clock this morning, Mr. O'Neill was advised by thenight-clerk that the occupants of every room within earshot of number618 had 'phoned the desk to complain of a disturbance, a noise, a vocaluproar proceeding from the room mentioned. Thither, therefore, marchedMr. O'Neill, his face full of cheese-sandwich, (for he had beenindulging in an early breakfast or a late supper) and his heart ofdevotion to duty. He found there the Misses Pauline Preston and"Bobbie" St. Clair, of the personnel of the chorus of the Frivolities, entertaining a few friends of either sex. A pleasant time was being hadby all, and at the moment of Mr. O'Neill's entry the entire strengthof the company was rendering with considerable emphasis that touchingballad, "There's a Place For Me In Heaven, For My Baby-Boy Is There. "

The able and efficient officer at once suggested that there was a placefor them in the street and the patrol-wagon was there; and, being a manof action as well as words, proceeded to gather up an armful of assortedguests as a preliminary to a personally-conducted tour onto thecold night. It was at this point that Miss Preston stepped into thelimelight. Mr. O'Neill contends that she hit him with a brick, an ironcasing, and the Singer Building. Be that as it may, her efforts weresufficiently able to induce him to retire for reinforcements, which, arriving, arrested the supper-party regardless of age or sex. 

At the police-court this morning Miss Preston maintained that she andher friends were merely having a quiet home-evening and that Mr. O'Neillwas no gentleman. The male guests gave their names respectively asWoodrow Wilson, David Lloyd-George, and William J. Bryan. These, however, are believed to be incorrect. But the moral is, if you wantexcitement rather than sleep, stay at the Hotel Cosmopolis. 

Bill may have quaked inwardly as he listened to this epic but outwardlyhe was unmoved. 

"Well, " he said, "what about it?"

"What about it!" said Lucille. 

"What about it!" said Archie. "Why, my dear old friend, it simply meansthat all the time we've been putting in making your personality winninghas been chucked away. Absolutely a dead loss! We might just as wellhave read a manual on how to knit sweaters. "

"I don't see it, " maintained Bill, stoutly. 

Lucille turned apologetically to her husband. 

"You mustn't judge me by him, Archie, darling. This sort of thingdoesn't run in the family. -We are supposed to be rather bright on thewhole. But poor Bill was dropped by his nurse when he was a baby, andfell on his head. "

"I suppose what you're driving at, " said the goaded Bill, "is that whathas happened will make father pretty sore against girls who happen to bein the chorus?"

"That's absolutely it, old thing, I'm sorry to say. The next person whomentions the word chorus-girl in the jolly old governor's presence isgoing to take his life in his hands. I tell you, as one man to another, that I'd much rather be back in France hopping over the top than do itmyself. "

"What darned nonsense! Mabel may be in the chorus, but she isn't likethose girls. "

"Poor old Bill!" said Lucille. "I'm awfully sorry, but it's no use notfacing facts. You know perfectly well that the reputation of the hotelis the thing father cares more about than anything else in the world, and that this is going to make him furious with all the chorus-girls increation. It's no good trying to explain to him that your Mabel is inthe chorus but not of the chorus, so to speak. "

"Deuced well put!" said Archie, approvingly. "You're absolutely right. Achorus-girl by the river's brim, so to speak, a simple chorus-girl is tohim, as it were, and she is nothing more, if you know what I mean. "

"So now, " said Lucille, "having shown you that the imbecile scheme whichyou concocted with my poor well-meaning husband is no good at all, Iwill bring you words of cheer. Your own original plan--of getting yourMabel a part in a comedy--was always the best one. And you can do it. I wouldn't have broken the bad news so abruptly if I hadn't had someconsolation to give you afterwards. I met Reggie van Tuyl just now, wandering about as if the cares of the world were on his shoulders, and he told me that he was putting up most of the money for a new playthat's going into rehearsal right away. Reggie's an old friend of yours. All you have to do is to go to him and ask him to use his influence toget your Mabel a small part. There's sure to be a maid or something withonly a line or two that won't matter. "

"A ripe scheme!" said Archie. "Very sound and fruity!"

The cloud did not lift from Bill's corrugated brow. 

"That's all very well, " he said. "But you know what a talker Reggieis. He's an obliging sort of chump, but his tongue's fastened on at themiddle and waggles at both ends. I don't want the whole of New York toknow about my engagement, and have somebody spilling the news to father, before I'm ready. "

"That's all right, " said Lucille. "Archie can speak to him. There's noneed for him to mention your name at all. He can just say there's a girlhe wants to get a part for. You would do it, wouldn't you, angel-face?"

"Like a bird, queen of my soul. "

"Then that's splendid. You'd better give Archie that photograph of Mabelto give to Reggie, Bill. "

"Photograph?" said Bill. "Which photograph? I have twenty-four!"

Archie found Reggie van Tuyl brooding in a window of his club thatlooked over Fifth Avenue. Reggie was a rather melancholy young man whosuffered from elephantiasis of the bank-roll and the other evilsthat arise from that complaint. Gentle and sentimental by nature, hissensibilities had been much wounded by contact with a sordid world; andthe thing that had first endeared Archie to him was the fact that thelatter, though chronically hard-up, had never made any attempt to borrowmoney from him. Reggie would have parted with it on demand, but ithad delighted him to find that Archie seemed to take a pleasure in hissociety without having any ulterior motives. He was fond of Archie, and also of Lucille; and their happy marriage was a constant source ofgratification to him. 

For Reggie was a sentimentalist. He would have liked to live in a worldof ideally united couples, himself ideally united to some charming andaffectionate girl. But, as a matter of cold fact, he was a bachelor, and most of the couples he knew were veterans of several divorces. InReggie's circle, therefore, the home-life of Archie and Lucille shonelike a good deed in a naughty world. It inspired him. In moments ofdepression it restored his waning faith in human nature. 

Consequently, when Archie, having greeted him and slipped into a chairat his side, suddenly produced from his inside pocket the photograph ofan extremely pretty girl and asked him to get her a small part in theplay which he was financing, he was shocked and disappointed. He was ina more than usually sentimental mood that afternoon, and had, indeed, at the moment of Archie's arrival, been dreaming wistfully of soft armsclasped snugly about his collar and the patter of little feet and allthat sort of thing. -He gazed reproachfully at Archie. 

"Archie!" his voice quivered with emotion. "Is it worth it?, is it worthit, old man?-Think of the poor little woman at home!"

Archie was puzzled. 

"Eh, old top? Which poor little woman?"

"Think of her trust in you, her faith--". 

"I don't absolutely get you, old bean. "

"What would Lucille say if she knew about this?"

"Oh, she does. She knows all about it. "

"Good heavens!" cried Reggie. -He was shocked to the core of hisbeing. -One of the articles of his faith was, that the union of Lucilleand Archie was different from those loose partnerships which werethe custom in his world. -He had not been conscious of such a poignantfeeling that the foundations of the universe were cracked and totteringand that there was no light and sweetness in life since the morning, eighteen months back, when a negligent valet had sent him out into FifthAvenue with only one spat on. 

"It was Lucille's idea, " explained Archie. He was about to mention hisbrother-in-law's connection with the matter, but checked himselfin time, remembering Bill's specific objection to having his secretrevealed to Reggie. "It's like this, old thing, I've never met thisfemale, but she's a pal of Lucille's"-he comforted his conscience bythe reflection that, if she wasn't now, she would be in a few days-"andLucille wants to do her a bit of good. She's been on the stage inEngland, you know, supporting a jolly old widowed mother and educating alittle brother and all that kind and species of rot, you understand, andnow she's coming over to America, and Lucille wants you to rally roundand shove her into your show and generally keep the home fires burningand so forth. How do we go?"

Reggie beamed with relief. He felt just as he had felt on that otheroccasion at the moment when a taxi-cab had rolled up and enabled him tohide his spatless leg from the public gaze. 

"Oh, I see!" he said. "Why, delighted, old man, quite delighted!"

"Any small part would do. Isn't there a maid or something in yourbob's-worth of refined entertainment who drifts about saying, 'Yes, madam, ' and all that sort of thing? Well, then that's just the thing. Topping! I knew I could rely on you, old bird. I'll get Lucille to shipher round to your address when she arrives. I fancy she's due to totterin somewhere in the next few days. Well, I must be popping. Toodle-oo!"

"Pip-pip!" said Reggie. 

 It was about a week later that Lucille came into the suite at theHotel Cosmopolis that was her home, and found Archie lying on the couch, smoking a refreshing pipe after the labours of the day. It seemed toArchie that his wife was not in her usual cheerful frame of mind. Hekissed her, and, having relieved her of her parasol, endeavoured withoutsuccess to balance it on his chin. Having picked it up from the floorand placed it on the table, he became aware that Lucille was looking athim in a despondent sort of way. Her grey eyes were clouded. 

"Halloa, old thing, " said Archie. "What's up?"

Lucille sighed wearily. 

"Archie, darling, do you know any really good swear-words?"

"Well, " said Archie, reflectively, "let me see. I did pick up a fewtolerably ripe and breezy expressions out in France. All through mymilitary career there was something about me--some subtle magnetism, don't you know, and that sort of thing--that seemed to make colonels andblighters of that order rather inventive. I sort of inspired them, don'tyou know. I remember one brass-hat addressing me for quite ten minutes, saying something new all the time. And even then he seemed to think hehad only touched the fringe of the subject. As a matter of fact, hesaid straight out in the most frank and confiding way that mere wordscouldn't do justice to me. But why?"

"Because I want to relieve my feelings. "

"Anything wrong?"

"Everything's wrong. I've just been having tea with Bill and his Mabel. "

"Oh, ah!" said Archie, interested. "And what's the verdict?"

"Guilty!" said Lucille. "And the sentence, if I had anything to dowith it, would be transportation for life. " She peeled off her glovesirritably. "What fools men are! Not you, precious! You're the only manin the world that isn't, it seems to me. You did marry a nice girl, didn't you? YOU didn't go running round after females with crimson hair, goggling at them with your eyes popping out of your head like a bulldogwaiting for a bone. "

"Oh, I say! Does old Bill look like that?"

"Worse!"

Archie rose to a point of order. 

"But one moment, old lady. You speak of crimson hair. Surely oldBill--in the extremely jolly monologues he used to deliver whenever Ididn't see him coming and he got me alone--used to allude to her hair asbrown. "

"It isn't brown now. It's bright scarlet. Good gracious, I ought toknow. I've been looking at it all the afternoon. It dazzled me. If I'vegot to meet her again, I mean to go to the oculist's and get a pair ofthose smoked glasses you wear at Palm Beach. " Lucille brooded silentlyfor a while over the tragedy. "I don't want to say anything against her, of course. "

"No, no, of course not. "

"But of all the awful, second-rate girls I ever met, she's the worst!She has vermilion hair and an imitation Oxford manner. She's so horriblyrefined that it's dreadful to listen to her. She's a sly, creepy, slinky, made-up, insincere vampire! She's common! She's awful! She's acat!"

"You're quite right not to say anything against her, " said Archie, approvingly. "It begins to look, " he went on, "as if the good old paterwas about due for another shock. He has a hard life!"

"If Bill DARES to introduce that girl to Father, he's taking his life inhis hands. "

"But surely that was the idea--the scheme--the wheeze, wasn't it? Or doyou think there's any chance of his weakening?"

"Weakening! You should have seen him looking at her! It was like a smallboy flattening his nose against the window of a candy-store. "

"Bit thick!"

Lucille kicked the leg of the table. 

"And to think, " she said, "that, when I was a little girl, I used tolook up to Bill as a monument of wisdom. I used to hug his knees andgaze into his face and wonder how anyone could be so magnificent. " Shegave the unoffending table another kick. "If I could have looked intothe future, " she said, with feeling, "I'd have bitten him in the ankle!"

 In the days which followed, Archie found himself a little out oftouch with Bill and his romance. Lucille referred to the matter onlywhen he brought the subject up, and made it plain that the topic ofher future sister-in-law was not one which she enjoyed discussing. Mr. Brewster, senior, when Archie, by way of delicately preparing his mindfor what was about to befall, asked him if he liked red hair, called hima fool, and told him to go away and bother someone else when they werebusy. The only person who could have kept him thoroughly abreast of thetrend of affairs was Bill himself; and experience had made Archie waryin the matter of meeting Bill. The position of confidant to a young manin the early stages of love is no sinecure, and it made Archie sleepyeven to think of having to talk to his brother-in-law. He sedulouslyavoided his love-lorn relative, and it was with a sinking feelingone day that, looking over his shoulder as he sat in the Cosmopolisgrill-room preparatory to ordering lunch, he perceived Bill bearing downupon him, obviously resolved upon joining his meal. 

To his surprise, however, Bill did not instantly embark upon his usualmonologue. Indeed, he hardly spoke at all. He champed a chop, and seemedto Archie to avoid his eye. It was not till lunch was over and they weresmoking that he unburdened himself. 

"Archie!" he said. 

"Hallo, old thing!" said Archie. "Still there? I thought you'd died orsomething. Talk about our old pals, Tongue-tied Thomas and Silent Sammy!You could beat 'em both on the same evening. "

"It's enough to make me silent. "

"What is?"

Bill had relapsed into a sort of waking dream. He sat frowning sombrely, lost to the world. Archie, having waited what seemed to him a sufficientlength of time for an answer to his question, bent forward and touchedhis brother-in-law's hand gently with the lighted end of his cigar. Billcame to himself with a howl. 

"What is?" said Archie. 

"What is what?" said Bill. 

"Now listen, old thing, " protested Archie. "Life is short and timeis flying. Suppose we cut out the cross-talk. You hinted there wassomething on your mind--something worrying the old bean--and I'm waitingto hear what it is. "

Bill fiddled a moment with his coffee-spoon. 

"I'm in an awful hole, " he said at last. 

"What's the trouble?"

"It's about that darned girl!"

Archie blinked. 

"What!"

"That darned girl!"

Archie could scarcely credit his senses. He had been prepared--indeed, he had steeled himself--to hear Bill allude to his affinity in a numberof ways. But "that darned girl" was not one of them. 

"Companion of my riper years, " he said, "let's get this thing straight. When you say 'that darned girl, ' do you by any possibility allude to--?"

"Of course I do!"

"But, William, old bird--"

"Oh, I know, I know, I know!" said Bill, irritably. "You're surprised tohear me talk like that about her?"

"A trifle, yes. Possibly a trifle. When last heard from, laddie, youmust recollect, you were speaking of the lady as your soul-mate, andat least once--if I remember rightly--you alluded to her as your littledusky-haired lamb. "

A sharp howl escaped Bill. 

"Don't!" A strong shudder convulsed his frame. "Don't remind me of it!"

"There's been a species of slump, then, in dusky-haired lambs?"

"How, " demanded Bill, savagely, "can a girl be a dusky-haired lamb whenher hair's bright scarlet?"

"Dashed difficult!" admitted Archie. 

"I suppose Lucille told you about that?"

"She did touch on it. Lightly, as it were. With a sort of gossamertouch, so to speak. "

Bill threw off the last fragments of reserve. 

"Archie, I'm in the devil of a fix. I don't know why it was, butdirectly I saw her--things seemed so different over in England--I mean. "He swallowed ice-water in gulps. "I suppose it was seeing her withLucille. Old Lu is such a thoroughbred. Seemed to kind of show herup. Like seeing imitation pearls by the side of real pearls. And thatcrimson hair! It sort of put the lid on it. " Bill brooded morosely. "Itought to be a criminal offence for women to dye their hair. Especiallyred. What the devil do women do that sort of thing for?"

"Don't blame me, old thing. It's not my fault. "

Bill looked furtive and harassed. 

"It makes me feel such a cad. Here am I, feeling that I would give allI've got in the world to get out of the darned thing, and all the timethe poor girl seems to be getting fonder of me than ever. "

"How do you know?" Archie surveyed his brother-in-law critically. "Perhaps her feelings have changed too. Very possibly she may not likethe colour of YOUR hair. I don't myself. Now if you were to dye yourselfcrimson--"

"Oh, shut up! Of course a man knows when a girl's fond of him. "

"By no means, laddie. When you're my age--"

"I AM your age. "

"So you are! I forgot that. Well, now, approaching the matter fromanother angle, let us suppose, old son, that Miss What's-Her-Name--theparty of the second part--"

"Stop it!" said Bill suddenly. "Here comes Reggie!"

"Eh?"

"Here comes Reggie van Tuyl. I don't want him to hear us talking aboutthe darned thing. "

Archie looked over his shoulder and perceived that it was indeed so. Reggie was threading his way among the tables. 

"Well, HE looks pleased with things, anyway, " said Bill, enviously. "Glad somebody's happy. "

He was right. Reggie van Tuyl's usual mode of progress through arestaurant was a somnolent slouch. Now he was positively bounding along. Furthermore, the usual expression on Reggie's face was a sleepy sadness. Now he smiled brightly and with animation. He curveted towards theirtable, beaming and erect, his head up, his gaze level, and his chestexpanded, for all the world as if he had been reading the hints in "ThePersonality That Wins. "

Archie was puzzled. Something had plainly happened to Reggie. But what?It was idle to suppose that somebody had left him money, for he had beenleft practically all the money there was a matter of ten years before. 

"Hallo, old bean, " he said, as the new-comer, radiating good will andbonhomie, arrived at the table and hung over it like a noon-day sun. "We've finished. But rally round and we'll watch you eat. Dashedinteresting, watching old Reggie eat. Why go to the Zoo?"

Reggie shook his head. 

"Sorry, old man. Can't. Just on my way to the Ritz. Stepped in becauseI thought you might be here. I wanted you to be the first to hear thenews. "

"News?"

"I'm the happiest man alive!"

"You look it, darn you!" growled Bill, on whose mood of grey gloom thishuman sunbeam was jarring heavily. 

"I'm engaged to be married!"

"Congratulations, old egg!" Archie shook his hand cordially. "Dash it, don't you know, as an old married man I like to see you young fellowssettling down. "

"I don't know how to thank you enough, Archie, old man, " said Reggie, fervently. 

"Thank me?"

"It was through you that I met her. Don't you remember the girl you sentto me? You wanted me to get her a small part--"

He stopped, puzzled. Archie had uttered a sound that was half gasp andhalf gurgle, but it was swallowed up in the extraordinary noise from theother side of the table. Bill Brewster was leaning forward with bulgingeyes and soaring eyebrows. 

"Are you engaged to Mabel Winchester?"

"Why, by George!" said Reggie. "Do you know her?"

Archie recovered himself. 

"Slightly, " he said. "Slightly. Old Bill knows her slightly, as it were. Not very well, don't you know, but--how shall I put it?"

"Slightly, " suggested Bill. 

"Just the word. Slightly. "

"Splendid!" said Reggie van Tuyl. "Why don't you come along to the Ritzand meet her now?"

Bill stammered. Archie came to the rescue again. 

"Bill can't come now. He's got a date. "

"A date?" said Bill. 

"A date, " said Archie. "An appointment, don't you know. A--a--in fact, adate. "

"But--er--wish her happiness from me, " said Bill, cordially. 

"Thanks very much, old man, " said Reggie. 

"And say I'm delighted, will you?"

"Certainly. "

"You won't forget the word, will you? Delighted. "

"Delighted. "

"That's right. Delighted. "

Reggie looked at his watch. 

"Halloa! I must rush!"

Bill and Archie watched him as he bounded out of the restaurant. 

"Poor old Reggie!" said Bill, with a fleeting compunction. 

"Not necessarily, " said Archie. "What I mean to say is, tastes differ, don't you know. One man's peach is another man's poison, and viceversa. "

"There's something in that. "

"Absolutely! Well, " said Archie, judicially, "this would appear to be, as it were, the maddest, merriest day in all the glad New Year, yes, no?"

Bill drew a deep breath. 

"You bet your sorrowful existence it is!" he said. "I'd like to dosomething to celebrate it. "

"The right spirit!" said Archie. "Absolutely the right spirit! Begin bypaying for my lunch!"

CHAPTER XX. THE-SAUSAGE-CHAPPIE-CLICKS

Rendered restless by relief, Bill Brewster did not linger long at theluncheon-table. Shortly after Reggie van Tuyl had retired, he got up andannounced his intention of going for a bit of a walk to calm his excitedmind. Archie dismissed him with a courteous wave of the hand; and, beckoning to the Sausage Chappie, who in his role of waiter was hoveringnear, requested him to bring the best cigar the hotel could supply. Thepadded seat in which he sat was comfortable; he had no engagements; andit seemed to him that a pleasant half-hour could be passed in smokingdreamily and watching his fellow-men eat. 

The grill-room had filled up. The Sausage Chappie, having brought Archiehis cigar, was attending to a table close by, at which a woman witha small boy in a sailor suit had seated themselves. The woman wasengrossed with the bill of fare, but the child's attention seemedriveted upon the Sausage Chappie. He was drinking him in with wide eyes. He seemed to be brooding on him. 

Archie, too, was brooding on the Sausage Chappie, The latter made anexcellent waiter: he was brisk and attentive, and did the work as ifhe liked it; but Archie was not satisfied. Something seemed to tell himthat the man was fitted for higher things. Archie was a grateful soul. That sausage, coming at the end of a five-hour hike, had made adeep impression on his plastic nature. Reason told him that only anexceptional man could have parted with half a sausage at such a moment;and he could not feel that a job as waiter at a New York hotel was anadequate job for an exceptional man. Of course, the root of the troublelay in the fact that the fellow could not remember what his reallife-work had been before the war. It was exasperating to reflect, asthe other moved away to take his order to the kitchen, that there, forall one knew, went the dickens of a lawyer or doctor or architect orwhat not. 

His meditations were broken by the voice of the child. 

"Mummie, " asked the child interestedly, following the Sausage Chappiewith his eyes as the latter disappeared towards the kitchen, "why hasthat man got such a funny face?"

"Hush, darling. "

"Yes, but why HAS he?"

"I don't know, darling. "

The child's faith in the maternal omniscience seemed to have received ashock. He had the air of a seeker after truth who has been baffled. Hiseyes roamed the room discontentedly. 

"He's got a funnier face than that man there, " he said, pointing toArchie. 

"Hush, darling!"

"But he has. Much funnier. "

In a way it was a sort of compliment, but Archie felt embarrassed. Hewithdrew coyly into the cushioned recess. Presently the Sausage Chappiereturned, attended to the needs of the woman and the child, and cameover to Archie. His homely face was beaming. 

"Say, I had a big night last night, " he said, leaning on the table. 

"Yes?" said Archie. "Party or something?"

"No, I mean I suddenly began to remember things. Something seems to havehappened to the works. "

Archie sat up excitedly. This was great news. 

"No, really? My dear old lad, this is absolutely topping. This ispriceless. "

"Yessir! First thing I remembered was that I was born at Springfield, Ohio. It was like a mist starting to life. Springfield, Ohio. That wasit. It suddenly came back to me. "

"Splendid! Anything else?"

"Yessir! Just before I went to sleep I remembered my name as well. "

Archie was stirred to his depths. 

"Why, the thing's a walk-over!" he exclaimed. "Now you've once gotstarted, nothing can stop you. What is your name?"

"Why, it's--That's funny! It's gone again. I have an idea it began withan S. What was it? Skeffington? Skillington?"

"Sanderson?"

"No; I'll get it in a moment. Cunningham? Carrington? Wilberforce?Debenham?"

"Dennison?" suggested Archie, helpfully. --"No, no, no. It's on thetip of my tongue. Barrington? Montgomery? Hepplethwaite? I've got it!Smith!"

"By Jove! Really?"

"Certain of it. "

"What's the first name?"

An anxious expression came into the man's eyes. He hesitated. He loweredhis voice. 

"I have a horrible feeling that it's Lancelot!"

"Good God!" said Archie. 

"It couldn't really be that, could it?"

Archie looked grave. He hated to give pain, but he felt he must behonest. 

"It might, " he said. "People give their children all sorts of rummynames. My second name's Tracy. And I have a pal in England who waschristened Cuthbert de la Hay Horace. Fortunately everyone calls himStinker. "

The head-waiter began to drift up like a bank of fog, and the SausageChappie returned to his professional duties. When he came back, he wasbeaming again. 

"Something else I remembered, " he said, removing the cover. "I'mmarried!"

"Good Lord!"

"At least I was before the war. She had blue eyes and brown hair and aPekingese dog. "

"What was her name?"

"I don't know. "

"Well, you're coming on, " said Archie. "I'll admit that. You've stillgot a bit of a way to go before you become like one of those blighterswho take the Memory Training Courses in the magazine advertisements--Imean to say, you know, the lads who meet a fellow once for five minutes, and then come across him again ten years later and grasp him by the handand say, 'Surely this is Mr. Watkins of Seattle?' Still, you're doingfine. You only need patience. Everything comes to him who waits. "Archie sat up, electrified. "I say, by Jove, that's rather good, what!Everything comes to him who waits, and you're a waiter, what, what. Imean to say, what!"

"Mummie, " said the child at the other table, still speculative, "do youthink something trod on his face?"

"Hush, darling. "

"Perhaps it was bitten by something?"

"Eat your nice fish, darling, " said the mother, who seemed to be oneof those dull-witted persons whom it is impossible to interest in adiscussion on first causes. 

Archie felt stimulated. Not even the advent of his father-in-law, whocame in a few moments later and sat down at the other end of the room, could depress his spirits. 

The Sausage Chappie came to his table again. 

"It's a funny thing, " he said. "Like waking up after you've been asleep. Everything seems to be getting clearer. The dog's name was Marie. Mywife's dog, you know. And she had a mole on her chin. "

"The dog?"

"No. My wife. Little beast! She bit me in the leg once. "

"Your wife?"

"No. The dog. Good Lord!" said the Sausage Chappie. 

Archie looked up and followed his gaze. 

A couple of tables away, next to a sideboard on which the managementexposed for view the cold meats and puddings and pies mentioned involume two of the bill of fare ("Buffet Froid"), a man and a girl hadjust seated themselves. The man was stout and middle-aged. He bulgedin practically every place in which a man can bulge, and his head wasalmost entirely free from hair. The girl was young and pretty. Her eyeswere blue. Her hair was brown. She had a rather attractive little moleon the left side of her chin. 

"Good Lord!" said the Sausage Chappie. 

"Now what?" said Archie. 

"Who's that? Over at the table there?"

Archie, through long attendance at the Cosmopolis Grill, knew most ofthe habitues by sight. 

"That's a man named Gossett. James J. Gossett. He's a motion-pictureman. You must have seen his name around. "

"I don't mean him. Who's the girl?"

"I've never seen her before. "

"It's my wife!" said the Sausage Chappie. 

"Your wife!"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"Well, well, well!" said Archie. "Many happy returns of the day!"

At the other table, the girl, unconscious of the drama which was aboutto enter her life, was engrossed in conversation with the stout man. Andat this moment the stout man leaned forward and patted her on the cheek. 

It was a paternal pat, the pat which a genial uncle might bestow ona favourite niece, but it did not strike the Sausage Chappie in thatlight. He had been advancing on the table at a fairly rapid pace, andnow, stirred to his depths, he bounded forward with a hoarse cry. 

Archie was at some pains to explain to his father-in-law later that, ifthe management left cold pies and things about all over the place, thissort of thing was bound to happen sooner or later. He urged that itwas putting temptation in people's way, and that Mr. Brewster had onlyhimself to blame. Whatever the rights of the case, the Buffet Froidundoubtedly came in remarkably handy at this crisis in the SausageChappie's life. He had almost reached the sideboard when the stout manpatted the girl's cheek, and to seize a huckleberry pie was with him thework of a moment. The next instant the pie had whizzed past the other'shead and burst like a shell against the wall. 

There are, no doubt, restaurants where this sort of thing wouldhave excited little comment, but the Cosmopolis was not one of them. Everybody had something to say, but the only one among those present whohad anything sensible to say was the child in the sailor suit. 

"Do it again!" said the child, cordially. 

The Sausage Chappie did it again. He took up a fruit salad, poised itfor a moment, then decanted it over Mr. Gossett's bald head. The child'shappy laughter rang over the restaurant. Whatever anybody else mightthink of the affair, this child liked it and was prepared to go onrecord to that effect. 

Epic events have a stunning quality. They paralyse the faculties. Fora moment there was a pause. The world stood still. Mr. Brewster bubbledinarticulately. Mr. Gossett dried himself sketchily with a napkin. TheSausage Chappie snorted. 

The girl had risen to her feet and was staring wildly. 

"John!" she cried. 

Even at this moment of crisis the Sausage Chappie was able to lookrelieved. 

"So it is!" he said. "And I thought it was Lancelot!"

"I thought you were dead!"

"I'm not!" said the Sausage Chappie. 

Mr. Gossett, speaking thickly through the fruit-salad, was understoodto say that he regretted this. And then confusion broke loose again. Everybody began to talk at once. 

"I say!" said Archie. "I say! One moment!"

Of the first stages of this interesting episode Archie had been aparalysed spectator. The thing had numbed him. And then--

 Sudden a thought came, like a full-blown rose. Flushing his brow. 

When he reached the gesticulating group, he was calm and business-like. He had a constructive policy to suggest. 

"I say, " he said. "I've got an idea!"

"Go away!" said Mr. Brewster. "This is bad enough without you buttingin. "

Archie quelled him with a gesture. 

"Leave us, " he said. "We would be alone. I want to have a littlebusiness-talk with Mr. Gossett. " He turned to the movie-magnate, whowas gradually emerging from the fruit-salad rather after the manner ofa stout Venus rising from the sea. "Can you spare me a moment of yourvaluable time?"

"I'll have him arrested!"

"Don't you do it, laddie. Listen!"

"The man's mad. Throwing pies!"

Archie attached himself to his coat-button. 

"Be calm, laddie. Calm and reasonable!"

For the first time Mr. Gossett seemed to become aware that what he hadbeen looking on as a vague annoyance was really an individual. 

"Who the devil are you?"

Archie drew himself up with dignity. 

"I am this gentleman's representative, " he replied, indicating theSausage Chappie with a motion of the hand. "His jolly old personalrepresentative. I act for him. And on his behalf I have a pretty ripeproposition to lay before you. Reflect, dear old bean, " he proceededearnestly. "Are you going to let this chance slip? The opportunity of alifetime which will not occur again. By Jove, you ought to rise up andembrace this bird. You ought to clasp the chappie to your bosom! He hasthrown pies at you, hasn't he? Very well. You are a movie-magnate. Yourwhole fortune is founded on chappies who throw pies. You probably scourthe world for chappies who throw pies. Yet, when one comes right to youwithout any fuss or trouble and demonstrates before your very eyes thefact that he is without a peer as a pie-propeller, you get the wind upand talk about having him arrested. Consider! (There's a bit of cherryjust behind your left ear. ) Be sensible. Why let your personal feelingstand in the way of doing yourself a bit of good? Give this chappie ajob and give it him quick, or we go elsewhere. Did you ever see FattyArbuckle handle pastry with a surer touch? Has Charlie Chaplin got thisfellow's speed and control. Absolutely not. I tell you, old friend, you're in danger of throwing away a good thing!"

He paused. The Sausage Chappie beamed. 

"I've aways wanted to go into the movies, " he said. "I was an actorbefore the war. Just remembered. "

Mr. Brewster attempted to speak. Archie waved him down. 

"How many times have I got to tell you not to butt in?" he said, severely. 

Mr. Gossett's militant demeanour had become a trifle modified duringArchie's harangue. First and foremost a man of business, Mr. Gossett wasnot insensible to the arguments which had been put forward. He brushed aslice of orange from the back of his neck, and mused awhile. 

"How do I know this fellow would screen well?" he said, at length. 

"Screen well!" cried Archie. "Of course he'll screen well. Look athis face. I ask you! The map! I call your attention to it. " He turnedapologetically to the Sausage Chappie. "Awfully sorry, old lad, fordwelling on this, but it's business, you know. " He turned to Mr. Gossett. "Did you ever see a face like that? Of course not. Why shouldI, as this gentleman's personal representative, let a face like that goto waste? There's a fortune in it. By Jove, I'll give you two minutes tothink the thing over, and, if you don't talk business then, I'll jollywell take my man straight round to Mack Sennett or someone. We don'thave to ask for jobs. We consider offers. "

There was a silence. And then the clear voice of the child in the sailorsuit made itself heard again. 

"Mummie!"

"Yes, darling?"

"Is the man with the funny face going to throw any more pies?"

"No, darling. "

The child uttered a scream of disappointed fury. 

"I want the funny man to throw some more pies! I want the funny man tothrow some more pies!"

A look almost of awe came into Mr. Gossett's face. He had heard thevoice of the Public. He had felt the beating of the Public's pulse. 

"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, " he said, picking a piece ofbanana off his right eyebrow, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings. Come round to my office!"

CHAPTER XXI. THE GROWING BOY

The lobby of the Cosmopolis Hotel was a favourite stamping-ground of Mr. Daniel Brewster, its proprietor. He liked to wander about there, keepinga paternal eye on things, rather in the manner of the Jolly Innkeeper(hereinafter to be referred to as Mine Host) of the old-fashioned novel. Customers who, hurrying in to dinner, tripped over Mr. Brewster, wereapt to mistake him for the hotel detective--for his eye was keen andhis aspect a trifle austere--but, nevertheless, he was being as jolly aninnkeeper as he knew how. His presence in the lobby supplied a personaltouch to the Cosmopolis which other New York hotels lacked, and itundeniably made the girl at the book-stall extraordinarily civil to herclients, which was all to the good. 

Most of the time Mr. Brewster stood in one spot and just lookedthoughtful; but now and again he would wander to the marble slab behindwhich he kept the desk-clerk and run his eye over the register, to seewho had booked rooms--like a child examining the stocking on Christmasmorning to ascertain what Santa Claus had brought him. 

As a rule, Mr. Brewster concluded this performance by shoving the bookback across the marble slab and resuming his meditations. But one nighta week or two after the Sausage Chappie's sudden restoration to thenormal, he varied this procedure by starting rather violently, turningpurple, and uttering an exclamation which was manifestly an exclamationof chagrin. He turned abruptly and cannoned into Archie, who, in companywith Lucille, happened to be crossing the lobby at the moment on his wayto dine in their suite. 

Mr. Brewster apologised gruffly; then, recognising his victim, seemed toregret having done so. 

"Oh, it's you! Why can't you look where you're going?" he demanded. Hehad suffered much from his son-in-law. 

"Frightfully sorry, " said Archie, amiably. "Never thought you were goingto fox-trot backwards all over the fairway. "

"You mustn't bully Archie, " said Lucille, severely, attaching herselfto her father's back hair and giving it a punitive tug, "because he's anangel, and I love him, and you must learn to love him, too. "

"Give you lessons at a reasonable rate, " murmured Archie. 

Mr. Brewster regarded his young relative with a lowering eye. 

"What's the matter, father darling?" asked Lucille. "You seem upset"

"I am upset!" Mr. Brewster snorted. "Some people have got a nerve!" Heglowered forbiddingly at an inoffensive young man in a light overcoatwho had just entered, and the young man, though his conscience was quiteclear and Mr. Brewster an entire stranger to him, stopped dead, blushed, and went out again--to dine elsewhere. "Some people have got the nerveof an army mule!"

"Why, what's happened?"

"Those darned McCalls have registered here!"

"No!"

"Bit beyond me, this, " said Archie, insinuating himself into theconversation. "Deep waters and what not! Who are the McCalls?"

"Some people father dislikes, " said Lucille. "And they've chosen hishotel to stop at. But, father dear, you mustn't mind. It's really acompliment. They've come because they know it's the best hotel in NewYork. "

"Absolutely!" said Archie. "Good accommodation for man and beast! Allthe comforts of home! Look on the bright side, old bean. No good gettingthe wind up. Cherrio, old companion!"

"Don't call me old companion!"

"Eh, what? Oh, right-o!"

Lucille steered her husband out of the danger zone, and they entered thelift. 

"Poor father!" she said, as they went to their suite, "it's a shame. They must have done it to annoy him. This man McCall has a place next tosome property father bought in Westchester, and he's bringing a law-suitagainst father about a bit of land which he claims belongs to him. Hemight have had the tact to go to another hotel. But, after all, I don'tsuppose it was the poor little fellow's fault. He does whatever his wifetells him to. "

"We all do that, " said Archie the married man. 

Lucille eyed him fondly. 

"Isn't it a shame, precious, that all husbands haven't nice wives likeme?"

"When I think of you, by Jove, " said Archie, fervently, "I want tobabble, absolutely babble!"

"Oh, I was telling you about the McCalls. Mr. McCall is one of thoselittle, meek men, and his wife's one of those big, bullying women. Itwas she who started all the trouble with father. Father and Mr. McCallwere very fond of each other till she made him begin the suit. I feelsure she made him come to this hotel just to annoy father. Still, they've probably taken the most expensive suite in the place, which issomething. "

Archie was at the telephone. His mood was now one of quiet peace. Ofall the happenings which went to make up existence in New York, he likedbest the cosy tete-a-tete dinners with Lucille in their suite, which, owing to their engagements--for Lucille was a popular girl, with manyfriends--occurred all too seldom. 

"Touching now the question of browsing and sluicing, " he said. "I'll begetting them to send along a waiter. "

"Oh, good gracious!"

"What's the matter?"

"I've just remembered. I promised faithfully I would go and see JaneMurchison to-day. And I clean forgot. I must rush. "

"But light of my soul, we are about to eat. Pop around and see her afterdinner. "

"I can't. She's going to a theatre to-night. "

"Give her the jolly old miss-in-baulk, then, for the nonce, and springround to-morrow. "

"She's sailing for England to-morrow morning, early. No, I must go andsee her now. What a shame! She's sure to make me stop to dinner, I tellyou what. Order something for me, and, if I'm not back in half an hour, start. "

"Jane Murchison, " said Archie, "is a bally nuisance. "

"Yes. But I've known her since she was eight. "

"If her parents had had any proper feeling, " said Archie, "they wouldhave drowned her long before that. "

He unhooked the receiver, and asked despondently to be connectedwith Room Service. He thought bitterly of the exigent Jane, whom herecollected dimly as a tall female with teeth. He half thought of goingdown to the grill-room on the chance of finding a friend there, but thewaiter was on his way to the room. He decided that he might as well staywhere he was. 

The waiter arrived, booked the order, and departed. Archie had justcompleted his toilet after a shower-bath when a musical clinking withoutannounced the advent of the meal. He opened the door. The waiter wasthere with a table congested with things under covers, from whichescaped a savoury and appetising odour. In spite of his depression, Archie's soul perked up a trifle. 

Suddenly he became aware that he was not the only person present whowas deriving enjoyment from the scent of the meal. Standing beside thewaiter and gazing wistfully at the foodstuffs was a long, thin boy ofabout sixteen. He was one of those boys who seem all legs and knuckles. He had pale red hair, sandy eyelashes, and a long neck; and his eyes, ashe removed them from the-table and raised them to Archie's, had a hungrylook. He reminded Archie of a half-grown, half-starved hound. 

"That smells good!" said the long boy. He inhaled deeply. "Yes, sir, " hecontinued, as one whose mind is definitely made up, "that smells good!"

Before Archie could reply, the telephone bell rang. It was Lucille, confirming her prophecy that the pest Jane would insist on her stayingto dine. 

"Jane, " said Archie, into the telephone, "is a pot of poison. The waiteris here now, setting out a rich banquet, and I shall have to eat two ofeverything by myself. "

He hung up the receiver, and, turning, met the pale eye of the long boy, who had propped himself up in the doorway. 

"Were you expecting somebody to dinner?" asked the boy. 

"Why, yes, old friend, I was. "

"I wish--"

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing. "

The waiter left. The long boy hitched his back more firmly against thedoorpost, and returned to his original theme. 

"That surely does smell good!" He basked a moment in the aroma. "Yes, sir! I'll tell the world it does!"

Archie was not an abnormally rapid thinker, but he began at this pointto get a clearly defined impression that this lad, if invited, wouldwaive the formalities and consent to join his meal. Indeed, the ideaArchie got was that, if he were not invited pretty soon, he would invitehimself. 

"Yes, " he agreed. "It doesn't smell bad, what!"

"It smells GOOD!" said the boy. "Oh, doesn't it! Wake me up in the nightand ask me if it doesn't!"

"Poulet en casserole, " said Archie. 

"Golly!" said the boy, reverently. 

There was a pause. The situation began to seem to Archie a trifledifficult. He wanted to start his meal, but it began to appear that hemust either do so under the penetrating gaze of his new friend or elseeject the latter forcibly. The boy showed no signs of ever wanting toleave the doorway. 

"You've dined, I suppose, what?" said Archie. 

"I never dine. "

"What!"

"Not really dine, I mean. I only get vegetables and nuts and things. "

"Dieting?"

"Mother is. "

"I don't absolutely catch the drift, old bean, " said Archie. The boysniffed with half-closed eyes as a wave of perfume from the poulet encasserole floated past him. He seemed to be anxious to intercept as muchof it as possible before it got through the door. 

"Mother's a food-reformer, " he vouchsafed. "She lectures on it. Shemakes Pop and me live on vegetables and nuts and things. "

Archie was shocked. It was like listening to a tale from the abyss. 

"My dear old chap, you must suffer agonies--absolute shooting pains!"He had no hesitation now. Common humanity pointed out his course. "Wouldyou care to join me in a bite now?"

"Would I!" The boy smiled a wan smile. "Would I! Just stop me on thestreet and ask me!"

"Come on in, then, " said Archie, rightly taking this peculiar phrasefor a formal acceptance. "And close the door. The fatted calf is gettingcold. "

Archie was not a man with a wide visiting-list among people withfamilies, and it was so long since he had seen a growing boy in actionat the table that he had forgotten what sixteen is capable of doingwith a knife and fork, when it really squares its elbows, takes adeep breath, and gets going. The spectacle which he witnessed wasconsequently at first a little unnerving. The long boy's idea oftrifling with a meal appeared to be to swallow it whole and reach outfor more. He ate like a starving Eskimo. Archie, in the time he hadspent in the trenches making the world safe for the working-man tostrike in, had occasionally been quite peckish, but he sat dazed beforethis majestic hunger. This was real eating. 

There was little conversation. The growing boy evidently did not believein table-talk when he could use his mouth for more practical purposes. It was not until the final roll had been devoured to its last crumb thatthe guest found leisure to address his host. Then he leaned back with acontented sigh. 

"Mother, " said the human python, "says you ought to chew every mouthfulthirty-three times.... "

"Yes, sir! Thirty-three times!" He sighed again, "I haven't ever hadmeal like that. "

"All right, was it, what?"

"Was it! Was it! Call me up on the 'phone and ask me!-Yes, sir!-Mother'stipped off these darned waiters not to serve-me anything but vegetablesand nuts and things, darn it!"

"The mater seems to have drastic ideas about the good old feed-bag, what!"

"I'll say she has! Pop hates it as much as me, but he's scared to kick. Mother says vegetables contain all the proteins you want. Mother says, if you eat meat, your blood-pressure goes all blooey. Do you think itdoes?"

"Mine seems pretty well in the pink. "

"She's great on talking, " conceded the boy. "She's out to-nightsomewhere, giving a lecture on Rational Eating to some ginks. I'llhave to be slipping up to our suite before she gets back. " He rose, sluggishly. "That isn't a bit of roll under that napkin, is it?" heasked, anxiously. 

Archie raised the napkin. 

"No. Nothing of that species. "

"Oh, well!" said the boy, resignedly. "Then I believe I'll be going. Thanks very much for the dinner. "

"Not a bit, old top. Come again if you're ever trickling round in thisdirection. "

The long boy removed himself slowly, loath to leave. At the door he castan affectionate glance back at the table. 

"Some meal!" he said, devoutly. "Considerable meal!"

Archie lit a cigarette. He felt like a Boy Scout who has done his day'sAct of Kindness. 

On the following morning it chanced that Archie needed a fresh supplyof tobacco. It was his custom, when this happened, to repair to a smallshop on Sixth Avenue which he had discovered accidentally in the courseof his rambles about the great city. His relations with Jno. Blake, theproprietor, were friendly and intimate. The discovery that Mr. Blakewas English and had, indeed, until a few years back maintained anestablishment only a dozen doors or so from Archie's London club, hadserved as a bond. 

To-day he found Mr. Blake in a depressed mood. The tobacconist was ahearty, red-faced man, who looked like an English sporting publican--thekind of man who wears a fawn-coloured top-coat and drives to the Derbyin a dog-cart; and usually there seemed to be nothing on his mindexcept the vagaries of the weather, concerning which he was a greatconversationalist. But now moodiness had claimed him for its own. After a short and melancholy "Good morning, " he turned to the task ofmeasuring out the tobacco in silence. 

Archie's sympathetic nature was perturbed. --"What's the matter, laddie?"he enquired. "You would seem to be feeling a bit of an onion this brightmorning, what, yes, no? I can see it with the naked eye. "

Mr. Blake grunted sorrowfully. 

"I've had a knock, Mr. Moffam. "

"Tell me all, friend of my youth. "

Mr. Blake, with a jerk of his thumb, indicated a poster which hung onthe wall behind the counter. Archie had noticed it as he came in, forit was designed to attract the eye. It was printed in black letters on ayellow ground, and ran as follows:

 CLOVER-LEAF SOCIAL AND OUTING CLUB

 GRAND CONTEST

 PIE-EATING CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WEST SIDE

 SPIKE O'DOWD (Champion)

 v. 

 BLAKE'S UNKNOWN

 FOR A PURSE OF $50 AND SIDE-BET

Archie examined this document gravely. It conveyed nothing to himexcept--what he had long suspected--that his sporting-looking friend hadsporting blood as well as that kind of exterior. He expressed a kindlyhope that the other's Unknown would bring home the bacon. 

Mr. Blake laughed one of those hollow, mirthless laughs. 

"There ain't any blooming Unknown, " he said, bitterly. This man hadplainly suffered. "Yesterday, yes, but not now. "

Archie sighed. 

"In the midst of life--Dead?" he enquired, delicately. 

"As good as, " replied the stricken tobacconist. He cast aside hisartificial restraint and became voluble. Archie was one of thosesympathetic souls in whom even strangers readily confided their mostintimate troubles. He was to those in travail of spirit very much whatcatnip is to a cat. "It's 'ard, sir, it's blooming 'ard! I'd got theevent all sewed up in a parcel, and now this young feller-me-lad 'as togive me the knock. This lad of mine--sort of cousin 'e is; comes fromLondon, like you and me--'as always 'ad, ever since he landed in thiscountry, a most amazing knack of stowing away grub. 'E'd been a bitunderfed these last two or three years over in the old country, whatwith food restrictions and all, and 'e took to the food over 'ereamazing. I'd 'ave backed 'im against a ruddy orstridge! Orstridge! I'd'ave backed 'im against 'arff a dozen orstridges--take 'em on oneafter the other in the same ring on the same evening--and given 'em ahandicap, too! 'E was a jewel, that boy. I've seen him polish off fourpounds of steak and mealy potatoes and then look round kind of wolfish, as much as to ask when dinner was going to begin! That's the kind of alad 'e was till this very morning. 'E would have out-swallowed this 'ereO'Dowd without turning a hair, as a relish before 'is tea! I'd got acouple of 'undred dollars on 'im, and thought myself lucky to get theodds. And now--"

Mr. Blake relapsed into a tortured silence. 

"But what's the matter with the blighter? Why can't he go over the top?Has he got indigestion?"

"Indigestion?" Mr. Blaife laughed another of his hollow laughs. "Youcouldn't give that boy indigestion if you fed 'im in on safety-razorblades. Religion's more like what 'e's got. "

"Religion?"

"Well, you can call it that. Seems last night, instead of goin' andresting 'is mind at a picture-palace like I told him to, 'e sneaked offto some sort of a lecture down on Eighth Avenue. 'E said 'e'd seen apiece about it in the papers, and it was about Rational Eating, and thatkind of attracted 'im. 'E sort of thought 'e might pick up a few hints, like. 'E didn't know what rational eating was, but it sounded to 'im asif it must be something to do with food, and 'e didn't want to miss it. 'E came in here just now, " said Mr. Blake, dully, "and 'e was a changedlad! Scared to death 'e was! Said the way 'e'd been goin' on in thepast, it was a wonder 'e'd got any stummick left! It was a lady thatgive the lecture, and this boy said it was amazing what she told 'emabout blood-pressure and things 'e didn't even know 'e 'ad. She showed'em pictures, coloured pictures, of what 'appens inside the injudiciouseater's stummick who doesn't chew his food, and it was like abattlefield! 'E said 'e would no more think of eatin' a lot of pie than'e would of shootin' 'imself, and anyhow eating pie would be a quickerdeath. I reasoned with 'im, Mr. Moffam, with tears in my eyes. I asked'im was he goin' to chuck away fame and wealth just because a womanwho didn't know what she was talking about had shown him a lot of fakedpictures. But there wasn't any doin' anything with him. 'E give me theknock and 'opped it down the street to buy nuts. " Mr. Blake moaned. "Two'undred dollars and more gone pop, not to talk of the fifty dollars 'ewould have won and me to get twenty-five of!"

Archie took his tobacco and walked pensively back to the hotel. He wasfond of Jno. Blake, and grieved for the trouble that had come upon him. It was odd, he felt, how things seemed to link themselves up together. The woman who had delivered the fateful lecture to injudicious eaterscould not be other than the mother of his young guest of last night. Anuncomfortable woman! Not content with starving her own family--Archiestopped in his tracks. A pedestrian, walking behind him, charged intohis back, but Archie paid no attention. He had had one of those sudden, luminous ideas, which help a man who does not do much thinking as a ruleto restore his average. He stood there for a moment, almost dizzy at thebrilliance of his thoughts; then hurried on. Napoleon, he mused as hewalked, must have felt rather like this after thinking up a hot one tospring on the enemy. 

As if Destiny were suiting her plans to his, one of the first persons hesaw as he entered the lobby of the Cosmopolis was the long boy. He wasstanding at the bookstall, reading as much of a morning paper as couldbe read free under the vigilant eyes of the presiding girl. Both he andshe were observing the unwritten rules which govern these affairs--towit, that you may read without interference as much as can be readwithout touching the paper. If you touch the paper, you lose, and haveto buy. 

"Well, well, well!" said Archie. "Here we are again, what!" He proddedthe boy amiably in the lower ribs. "You're just the chap I was lookingfor. Got anything on for the time being?"

The boy said he had no engagements. 

"Then I want you to stagger round with me to a chappie I know on SixthAvenue. It's only a couple of blocks away. I think I can do you a bit ofgood. Put you on to something tolerably ripe, if you know what I mean. Trickle along, laddie. You don't need a hat. "

They found Mr. Blake brooding over his troubles in an empty shop. 

"Cheer up, old thing!" said Archie. "The relief expedition has arrived. "He directed his companion's gaze to the poster. "Cast your eye overthat. How does that strike you?"

The long boy scanned the poster. A gleam appeared in his rather dulleye. 

"Well?"

"Some people have all the luck!" said the long boy, feelingly. 

"Would you like to compete, what?"

The boy smiled a sad smile. 

"Would I! Would I! Say!... "

"I know, " interrupted Archie. "Wake you up in the night and ask you! Iknew I could rely on you, old thing. " He turned to Mr. Blake. "Here'sthe fellow you've been wanting to meet. The finest left-and-right-handeater east of the Rockies! He'll fight the good fight for you. "

Mr. Blake's English training had not been wholly overcome by residencein New York. He still retained a nice eye for the distinctions of class. 

"But this is young gentleman's a young gentleman, " he urged, doubtfully, yet with hope shining in his eye. "He wouldn't do it. "

"Of course, he would. Don't be ridic, old thing. "

"Wouldn't do what?" asked the boy. 

"Why save the old homestead by taking on the champion. Dashed sad case, between ourselves! This poor egg's nominee has given him the raspberryat the eleventh hour, and only you can save him. And you owe it to himto do something you know, because it was your jolly old mater's lecturelast night that made the nominee quit. You must charge in and take hisplace. Sort of poetic justice, don't you know, and what not!" He turnedto Mr. Blake. "When is the conflict supposed to start? Two-thirty? Youhaven't any important engagement for two-thirty, have you?"

"No. Mother's lunching at some ladies' club, and giving a lectureafterwards. I can slip away. "

Archie patted his head. 

"Then leg it where glory waits you, old bean!"

The long boy was gazing earnestly at the poster. It seemed to fascinatehim. 

"Pie!" he said in a hushed voice. 

The word was like a battle-cry. 

CHAPTER XXII. WASHY STEPS INTO THE HALL OF FAME

At about nine o'clock next morning, in a suite at the Hotel Cosmopolis, Mrs. Cora Bates McCall, the eminent lecturer on Rational Eating, wasseated at breakfast with her family. Before her sat Mr. McCall, alittle hunted-looking man, the natural peculiarities of whose face wereaccentuated by a pair of glasses of semicircular shape, like half-moonswith the horns turned up. Behind these, Mr. McCall's eyes played aperpetual game of peekaboo, now peering over them, anon ducking down andhiding behind them. He was sipping a cup of anti-caffeine. On his right, toying listlessly with a plateful of cereal, sat his son, Washington. Mrs. McCall herself was eating a slice of Health Bread and nut butter. For she practised as well as preached the doctrines which she hadstriven for so many years to inculcate in an unthinking populace. Herday always began with a light but nutritious breakfast, at which apeculiarly uninviting cereal, which looked and tasted like an old strawhat that had been run through a meat chopper, competed for first placein the dislike of her husband and son with a more than usually offensivebrand of imitation coffee. Mr. McCall was inclined to think that heloathed the imitation coffee rather more than the cereal, but Washingtonheld strong views on the latter's superior ghastliness. Both Washingtonand his father, however, would have been fair-minded enough to admitthat it was a close thing. 

Mrs. McCall regarded her offspring with grave approval. 

"I am glad to see, Lindsay, " she said to her husband, whose eyes sprangdutifully over the glass fence as he heard his name, "that Washy hasrecovered his appetite. When he refused his dinner last night, I wasafraid that he might be sickening for something. Especially as he hadquite a flushed look. You noticed his flushed look?"

"He did look flushed. "

"Very flushed. And his breathing was almost stertorous. And, when hesaid that he had no appetite, I am bound to say that I was anxious. Buthe is evidently perfectly well this morning. You do feel perfectly wellthis morning, Washy?"

The heir of the McCall's looked up from his cereal. He was a long, thinboy of about sixteen, with pale red hair, sandy eyelashes, and a longneck. 

"Uh-huh, " he said. 

Mrs. McCall nodded. 

"Surely now you will agree, Lindsay, that a careful and rational dietis what a boy needs? Washy's constitution is superb. He has a remarkablestamina, and I attribute it entirely to my careful supervision of hisfood. I shudder when I think of the growing boys who are permitted byirresponsible people to devour meat, candy, pie--" She broke off. "Whatis the matter, Washy?"

It seemed that the habit of shuddering at the thought of pie ran in theMcCall family, for at the mention of the word a kind of internal shimmyhad convulsed Washington's lean frame, and over his face there had comean expression that was almost one of pain. He had been reaching outhis hand for a slice of Health Bread, but now he withdrew it ratherhurriedly and sat back breathing hard. 

"I'm all right, " he said, huskily. 

"Pie, " proceeded Mrs. McCall, in her platform voice. She stopped againabruptly. "Whatever is the matter, Washington? You are making me feelnervous. "

"I'm all right. "

Mrs. McCall had lost the thread of her remarks. Moreover, having nowfinished her breakfast, she was inclined for a little light reading. Oneof the subjects allied to the matter of dietary on which she felt deeplywas the question of reading at meals. She was of the opinion that thestrain on the eye, coinciding with the strain on the digestion, couldnot fail to give the latter the short end of the contest; and it was arule at her table that the morning paper should not even be glanced attill the conclusion of the meal. She said that it was upsetting to beginthe day by reading the paper, and events were to prove that she wasoccasionally right. 

All through breakfast the New York Chronicle had been lying neatlyfolded beside her plate. She now opened it, and, with a remark aboutlooking for the report of her yesterday's lecture at the Butterfly Club, directed her gaze at the front page, on which she hoped that an editorwith the best interests of the public at heart had decided to place her. 

Mr. McCall, jumping up and down behind his glasses, scrutinised her faceclosely as she began to read. He always did this on these occasions, fornone knew better than he that his comfort for the day dependedlargely on some unknown reporter whom he had never met. If this unseenindividual had done his work properly and as befitted the importance ofhis subject, Mrs. McCall's mood for the next twelve hours would beas uniformly sunny as it was possible for it to be. But sometimes thefellows scamped their job disgracefully; and once, on a day which livedin Mr. McCall's memory, they had failed to make a report at all. 

To-day, he noted with relief, all seemed to be well. The reportactually was on the front page, an honour rarely accorded to his wife'sutterances. Moreover, judging from the time it took her to read thething, she had evidently been reported at length. 

"Good, my dear?" he ventured. "Satisfactory?"

"Eh?" Mrs. McCall smiled meditatively. "Oh, yes, excellent. They haveused my photograph, too. Not at all badly reproduced. "

"Splendid!" said Mr. McCall. 

Mrs. McCall gave a sharp shriek, and the paper fluttered from her hand. 

"My dear!" said Mr. McCall, with concern. 

His wife had recovered the paper, and was reading with burning eyes. Abright wave of colour had flowed over her masterful features. She wasbreathing as stertorously as ever her son Washington had done on theprevious night. 

"Washington!"

A basilisk glare shot across the table and turned the long boy tostone--all except his mouth, which opened feebly. 

"Washington! Is this true?"

Washy closed his mouth, then let it slowly open again. 

"My dear!" Mr. McCall's voice was alarmed. "What is it?" His eyes hadclimbed up over his glasses and remained there. "What is the matter? Isanything wrong?"

"Wrong! Read for yourself!"

Mr. McCall was completely mystified. He could not even formulate aguess at the cause of the trouble. That it appeared to concern his sonWashington seemed to be the one solid fact at his disposal, and thatonly made the matter still more puzzling. Where, Mr. McCall askedhimself, did Washington come in?

He looked at the paper, and received immediate enlightenment. Headlinesmet his eyes:

 GOOD STUFF IN THIS BOY. ABOUT A TON OF IT. SON OF CORA BATES McCALL FAMOUS FOOD-REFORM LECTURER WINS PIE-EATING CHAMPIONSHIP OF WEST SIDE. 

There followed a lyrical outburst. So uplifted had the reporterevidently felt by the importance of his news that he had been unable toconfine himself to prose:--

 My children, if you fail to shine or triumph in your special line; if, let us say, your hopes are bent on some day being President, and folks ignore your proper worth, and say you've not a chance on earth--Cheer up! for in these stirring days Fame may be won in many ways. Consider, when your spirits fall, the case of Washington McCall. 

 Yes, cast your eye on Washy, please! He looks just like a piece of cheese: he's not a brilliant sort of chap: he has a dull and vacant map: his eyes are blank, his face is red, his ears stick out beside his head. In fact, to end these compliments, he would be dear at thirty cents. Yet Fame has welcomed to her Hall this self-same Washington McCall. 

 His mother (nee Miss Cora Bates) is one who frequently orates upon the proper kind of food which every menu should include. With eloquence the world she weans from chops and steaks and pork and beans. Such horrid things she'd like to crush, and make us live on milk and mush. But oh! the thing that makes her sigh is when she sees us eating pie. (We heard her lecture last July upon "The Nation's Menace--Pie. ") Alas, the hit it made was small with Master Washington McCall. 

 For yesterday we took a trip to see the great Pie Championship, where men with bulging cheeks and eyes consume vast quantities of pies. A fashionable West Side crowd beheld the champion, Spike O'Dowd, endeavour to defend his throne against an upstart, Blake's Unknown. He wasn't an Unknown at all. He was young Washington McCall. 

 We freely own we'd give a leg if we could borrow, steal, or beg the skill old Homer used to show. (He wrote the Iliad, you know. ) Old Homer swung a wicked pen, but we are ordinary men, and cannot even start to dream of doing justice to our theme. The subject of that great repast is too magnificent and vast. We can't describe (or even try) the way those rivals wolfed their pie. Enough to say that, when for hours each had extended all his pow'rs, toward the quiet evenfall O'Dowd succumbed to young McCall. 

 The champion was a willing lad. He gave the public all he had. His was a genuine fighting soul. He'd lots of speed and much control. No yellow streak did he evince. He tackled apple-pie and mince. This was the motto on his shield--"O'Dowds may burst. They never yield. " His eyes began to start and roll. He eased his belt another hole. Poor fellow! With a single glance one saw that he had not a chance. A python would have had to crawl and own defeat from young McCall. 

 At last, long last, the finish came. His features overcast with shame, O'Dowd, who'd faltered once or twice, declined to eat another slice. He tottered off, and kindly men rallied around with oxygen. But Washy, Cora Bates's son, seemed disappointed it was done. He somehow made those present feel he'd barely started on his meal. We ask him, "Aren't you feeling bad?" "Me!" said the lion-hearted lad. "Lead me"--he started for the street--"where I can get a bite to eat!" Oh, what a lesson does it teach to all of us, that splendid speech! How better can the curtain fall on Master Washington McCall!

Mr. McCall read this epic through, then he looked at his son. He firstlooked at him over his glasses, then through his glasses, then over hisglasses again, then through his glasses once more. A curious expressionwas in his eyes. If such a thing had not been so impossible, one wouldhave said that his gaze had in it something of respect, of admiration, even of reverence. 

"But how did they find out your name?" he asked, at length. 

Mrs. McCall exclaimed impatiently. 

"Is THAT all you have to say?"

"No, no, my dear, of course not, quite so. But the point struck me ascurious. "

"Wretched boy, " cried Mrs. McCall, "were you insane enough to revealyour name?"

Washington wriggled uneasily. Unable to endure the piercing stare ofhis mother, he had withdrawn to the window, and was looking out with hisback turned. But even there he could feel her eyes on the back of hisneck. 

"I didn't think it 'ud matter, " he mumbled. "A fellow withtortoiseshell-rimmed specs asked me, so I told him. How was I to know--"

His stumbling defence was cut short by the opening of the door. 

"Hallo-allo-allo! What ho! What ho!"

Archie was standing in the doorway, beaming ingratiatingly on thefamily. 

The apparition of an entire stranger served to divert the lightningof Mrs. McCall's gaze from the unfortunate Washy. Archie, catchingit between the eyes, blinked and held on to the wall. He had begunto regret that he had yielded so weakly to Lucille's entreaty that heshould look in on the McCalls and use the magnetism of his personalityupon them in the hope of inducing them to settle the lawsuit. He wished, too, if the visit had to be paid that he had postponed it till afterlunch, for he was never at his strongest in the morning. But Lucille hadurged him to go now and get it over, and here he was. 

"I think, " said Mrs. McCall, icily, "that you must have mistaken yourroom. "

Archie rallied his shaken forces. 

"Oh, no. Rather not. Better introduce myself, what? My name's Moffam, you know. I'm old Brewster's son-in-law, and all that sort of rot, ifyou know what I mean. " He gulped and continued. "I've come about thisjolly old lawsuit, don't you know. "

Mr. McCall seemed about to speak, but his wife anticipated him. 

"Mr. Brewster's attorneys are in communication with ours. We do not wishto discuss the matter. "

Archie took an uninvited seat, eyed the Health Bread on the breakfasttable for a moment with frank curiosity, and resumed his discourse. 

"No, but I say, you know! I'll tell you what happened. I hate to totterin where I'm not wanted and all that, but my wife made such a pointof it. Rightly or wrongly she regards me as a bit of a hound in thediplomacy line, and she begged me to look you up and see whether wecouldn't do something about settling the jolly old thing. I mean tosay, you know, the old bird--old Brewster, you know--is considerablyperturbed about the affair--hates the thought of being in a posish wherehe has either got to bite his old pal McCall in the neck or be bittenby him--and--well, and so forth, don't you know! How about it?" He brokeoff. "Great Scot! I say, what!"

So engrossed had he been in his appeal that he had not observed thepresence of the pie-eating champion, between whom and himself a largepotted plant intervened. But now Washington, hearing the familiar voice, had moved from the window and was confronting him with an accusingstare. 

"HE made me do it!" said Washy, with the stern joy a sixteen-year-oldboy feels when he sees somebody on to whose shoulders he can shifttrouble from his own. "That's the fellow who took me to the place!"

"What are you talking about, Washington?"

"I'm telling you! He got me into the thing. "

"Do you mean this--this--" Mrs. McCall shuddered. "Are you referring tothis pie-eating contest?"

"You bet I am!"

"Is this true?" Mrs. McCall glared stonily at Archie, "Was it you wholured my poor boy into that--that--"

"Oh, absolutely. The fact is, don't you know, a dear old pal of minewho runs a tobacco shop on Sixth Avenue was rather in the soup. He hadbacked a chappie against the champion, and the chappie was converted byone of your lectures and swore off pie at the eleventh hour. Dashed hardluck on the poor chap, don't you know! And then I got the idea that ourlittle friend here was the one to step in and save the situash, so Ibroached the matter to him. And I'll tell you one thing, " said Archie, handsomely, "I don't know what sort of a capacity the original chappiehad, but I'll bet he wasn't in your son's class. Your son has to be seento be believed! Absolutely! You ought to be proud of him!" He turned infriendly fashion to Washy. "Rummy we should meet again like this! Neverdreamed I should find you here. And, by Jove, it's absolutely marvelloushow fit you look after yesterday. I had a sort of idea you would begroaning on a bed of sickness and all that. "

There was a strange gurgling sound in the background. It resembledsomething getting up steam. And this, curiously enough, is preciselywhat it was. The thing that was getting up steam was Mr. Lindsay McCall. 

The first effect of the Washy revelations on Mr. McCall had been merelyto stun him. It was not until the arrival of Archie that he had hadleisure to think; but since Archie's entrance he had been thinkingrapidly and deeply. 

For many years Mr. McCall had been in a state of suppressed revolution. He had smouldered, but had not dared to blaze. But this startlingupheaval of his fellow-sufferer, Washy, had acted upon him like ahigh explosive. There was a strange gleam in his eye, a gleam ofdetermination. He was breathing hard. 

"Washy!"

His voice had lost its deprecating mildness. It rang strong and clear. 

"Yes, pop?"

"How many pies did you eat yesterday?"

Washy considered. 

"A good few. "

"How many? Twenty?"

"More than that. I lost count. A good few. "

"And you feel as well as ever?"

"I feel fine. "

Mr. McCall dropped his glasses. He glowered for a moment at thebreakfast table. His eye took in the Health Bread, the imitationcoffee-pot, the cereal, the nut-butter. Then with a swift movement heseized the cloth, jerked it forcibly, and brought the entire contentsrattling and crashing to the floor. 

"Lindsay!"

Mr. McCall met his wife's eye with quiet determination. It was plainthat something had happened in the hinterland of Mr. McCall's soul. 

"Cora, " he said, resolutely, "I have come to a decision. I've beenletting you run things your own way a little too long in this family. I'm going to assert myself. For one thing, I've had all I want of thisfood-reform foolery. Look at Washy! Yesterday that boy seems to haveconsumed anything from a couple of hundredweight to a ton of pie, andhe has thriven on it! Thriven! I don't want to hurt your feelings, Cora, but Washington and I have drunk our last cup of anti-caffeine! If youcare to go on with the stuff, that's your look-out. But Washy and I arethrough. "

He silenced his wife with a masterful gesture and turned to Archie. "Andthere's another thing. I never liked the idea of that lawsuit, but I letyou talk me into it. Now I'm going to do things my way. Mr. Moffam, I'mglad you looked in this morning. I'll do just what you want. Take me toDan Brewster now, and let's call the thing off, and shake hands on it. "

"Are you mad, Lindsay?"

It was Cora Bates McCall's last shot. Mr. McCall paid no attention toit. He was shaking hands with Archie. 

"I consider you, Mr. Moffam, " he said, "the most sensible young man Ihave ever met!"

Archie blushed modestly. 

"Awfully good of you, old bean, " he said. "I wonder if you'd mindtelling my jolly old father-in-law that? It'll be a bit of news forhim!"

CHAPTER XXIII. MOTHER'S KNEE

Archie Moffam's connection with that devastatingly popular ballad, "Mother's Knee, " was one to which he always looked back later with acertain pride. "Mother's Knee, " it will be remembered, went through theworld like a pestilence. Scots elders hummed it on their way to kirk;cannibals crooned it to their offspring in the jungles of Borneo; it wasa best-seller among the Bolshevists. In the United States alone threemillion copies were disposed of. For a man who has not accomplishedanything outstandingly great in his life, it is something to have beenin a sense responsible for a song like that; and, though there weremoments when Archie experienced some of the emotions of a man who haspunched a hole in the dam of one of the larger reservoirs, he neverreally regretted his share in the launching of the thing. 

It seems almost bizarre now to think that there was a time when even oneperson in the world had not heard "Mother's Knee"; but it came fresh toArchie one afternoon some weeks after the episode of Washy, in his suiteat the Hotel Cosmopolis, where he was cementing with cigarettes andpleasant conversation his renewed friendship with Wilson Hymack, whom hehad first met in the neighbourhood of Armentieres during the war. 

"What are you doing these days?" enquired Wilson Hymack. 

"Me?" said Archie. "Well, as a matter of fact, there is what you mightcall a sort of species of lull in my activities at the moment. But myjolly old father-in-law is bustling about, running up a new hotel abit farther down-town, and the scheme is for me to be manager when it'sfinished. From what I have seen in this place, it's a simple sort ofjob, and I fancy I shall be somewhat hot stuff. How are you filling inthe long hours?"

"I'm in my uncle's office, darn it!"

"Starting at the bottom and learning the business and all that? A noblepursuit, no doubt, but I'm bound to say it would give me the pip in nouncertain manner. "

"It gives me, " said Wilson Hymack, "a pain in the thorax. I want to be acomposer. "

"A composer, eh?"

Archie felt that he should have guessed this. The chappie had adistinctly artistic look. He wore a bow-tie and all that sort of thing. His trousers bagged at the knees, and his hair, which during the martialepoch of his career had been pruned to the roots, fell about his ears inluxuriant disarray. 

"Say! Do you want to hear the best thing I've ever done?"

"Indubitably, " said Archie, politely. "Carry on, old bird!"

"I wrote the lyric as well as the melody, " said Wilson Hymack, who hadalready seated himself at the piano. "It's got the greatest title youever heard. It's a lallapaloosa! It's called 'It's a Long Way Back toMother's Knee. ' How's that? Poor, eh?"

Archie expelled a smoke-ring doubtfully. 

"Isn't it a little stale?"

"Stale? What do you mean, stale? There's always room for another songboosting Mother. "

"Oh, is it boosting Mother?" Archie's face cleared. "I thought it was ahit at the short skirts. Why, of course, that makes all the difference. In that case, I see no reason why it should not be ripe, fruity, andpretty well all to the mustard. Let's have it. "

Wilson Hymack pushed as much of his hair out of his eyes as he couldreach with one hand, cleared his throat, looked dreamily over the topof the piano at a photograph of Archie's father-in-law, Mr. DanielBrewster, played a prelude, and began to sing in a weak, high, composer's voice. All composers sing exactly alike, and they have to beheard to be believed. 

"One night a young man wandered through the glitter of Broadway: Hismoney he had squandered. For a meal he couldn't pay. "

"Tough luck!" murmured Archie, sympathetically. 

 "He thought about the village where his boyhood he had spent, And yearned for all the simple joys with which he'd been content. "

"The right spirit!" said Archie, with approval. "I'm beginning to likethis chappie!"

"Don't interrupt!"

"Oh, right-o! Carried away and all that!"

 "He looked upon the city, so frivolous and gay; And, as he heaved a weary sigh, these words he then did say: It's a long way back to Mother's knee, Mother's knee, Mother's knee: It's a long way back to Mother's knee, Where I used to stand and prattle With my teddy-bear and rattle: Oh, those childhood days in Tennessee, They sure look good to me! It's a long, long way, but I'm gonna start to-day! I'm going back, Believe me, oh! I'm going back (I want to go!) I'm going back--back--on the seven-three To the dear old shack where I used to be! I'm going back to Mother's knee!"

Wilson Hymack's voice cracked on the final high note, which was of analtitude beyond his powers. He turned with a modest cough. 

"That'll give you an idea of it!"

"It has, old thing, it has!"

"Is it or is it not a ball of fire?"

"It has many of the earmarks of a sound egg, " admitted Archie. "Ofcourse--"

"Of course, it wants singing. "

"Just what I was going to suggest. "

"It wants a woman to sing it. A woman who could reach out for that lasthigh note and teach it to take a joke. The whole refrain is working upto that. You need Tetrazzini or someone who would just pick that noteoff the roof and hold it till the janitor came round to lock up thebuilding for the night. "

"I must buy a copy for my wife. Where can I get it?"

"You can't get it! It isn't published. Writing music's the darndestjob!" Wilson Hymack snorted fiercely. It was plain that the man waspouring out the pent-up emotion of many days. "You write the biggestthing in years and you go round trying to get someone to sing it, andthey say you're a genius and then shove the song away in a drawer andforget about it. "

Archie lit another cigarette. 

"I'm a jolly old child in these matters, old lad, " he said, "but whydon't you take it direct to a publisher? As a matter of fact, if itwould be any use to you, I was foregathering with a music-publisher onlythe other day. A bird of the name of Blumenthal. He was lunching in herewith a pal of mine, and we got tolerably matey. Why not let me tool youround to the office to-morrow and play it to him?"

"No, thanks. Much obliged, but I'm not going to play that melody inany publisher's office with his hired gang of Tin-Pan Alley composerslistening at the keyhole and taking notes. I'll have to wait till I canfind somebody to sing it. Well, I must be going along. Glad to have seenyou again. Sooner or later I'll take you to hear that high note sung bysomeone in a way that'll make your spine tie itself in knots round theback of your neck. "

"I'll count the days, " said Archie, courteously. "Pip-pip!"

Hardly had the door closed behind the composer when it opened again toadmit Lucille. 

"Hallo, light of my soul!" said Archie, rising and embracing his wife. "Where have you been all the afternoon? I was expecting you this many anhour past. I wanted you to meet--"

"I've been having tea with a girl down in Greenwich Village. I couldn'tget away before. Who was that who went out just as I came along thepassage?"

"Chappie of the name of Hymack. I met him in France. A composer and whatnot. "

"We seem to have been moving in artistic circles this afternoon. Thegirl I went to see is a singer. At least, she wants to sing, but gets noencouragement. "

"Precisely the same with my bird. He wants to get his music sung butnobody'll sing it. But I didn't know you knew any Greenwich Villagewarblers, sunshine of my home. How did you meet this female?"

Lucille sat down and gazed forlornly at him with her big grey eyes. Shewas registering something, but Archie could not gather what it was. 

"Archie, darling, when you married me you undertook to share my sorrows, didn't you?"

"Absolutely! It's all in the book of words. For better or for worse, insickness and in health, all-down-set-'em-up-in-the-other-alley. Regulariron-clad contract!"

"Then share 'em!" said Lucille. "Bill's in love again!"

Archie blinked. 

"Bill? When you say Bill, do you mean Bill? Your brother Bill? Mybrother-in-law Bill? Jolly old William, the son and heir of theBrewsters?"

"I do. "

"You say he's in love? Cupid's dart?"

"Even so!"

"But, I say! Isn't this rather--What I mean to say is, the lad's anabsolute scourge! The Great Lover, what! Also ran, Brigham Young, andall that sort of thing! Why, it's only a few weeks ago that he wasmoaning brokenly about that vermilion-haired female who subsequentlyhooked on to old Reggie van Tuyl!"

"She's a little better than that girl, thank goodness. All the same, Idon't think Father will approve. "

"Of what calibre is the latest exhibit?"

"Well, she comes from the Middle West, and seems to be trying to betwice as Bohemian as the rest of the girls down in Greenwich Village. She wears her hair bobbed and goes about in a kimono. She's probablyread magazine stories about Greenwich Village, and has modelled herselfon them. It's so silly, when you can see Hicks Corners sticking out ofher all the time. "

"That one got past me before I could grab it. What did you say she hadsticking out of her?"

"I meant that anybody could see that she came from somewhere out in thewilds. As a matter of fact, Bill tells me that she was brought up inSnake Bite, Michigan. "

"Snake Bite? What rummy names you have in America! Still, I'll admitthere's a village in England called Nether Wallop, so who am I to castthe first stone? How is old Bill? Pretty feverish?"

"He says this time it is the real thing. "

"That's what they all say! I wish I had a dollar for everytime--Forgotten what I was going to say!" broke off Archie, prudently. "So you think, " he went on, after a pause, "that William's latest isgoing to be one more shock for the old dad?"

"I can't imagine Father approving of her. "

"I've studied your merry old progenitor pretty closely, " said Archie, "and, between you and me, I can't imagine him approving of anybody!"

"I can't understand why it is that Bill goes out of his way to pickthese horrors. I know at least twenty delightful girls, all pretty andwith lots of money, who would be just the thing for him; but he sneaksaway and goes falling in love with someone impossible. And the worstof it is that one always feels one's got to do one's best to see himthrough. "

"Absolutely! One doesn't want to throw a spanner into the works ofLove's young dream. It behoves us to rally round. Have you heard thisgirl sing?"

"Yes. She sang this afternoon. "

"What sort of a voice has she got?"

"Well, it's--loud!"

"Could she pick a high note off the roof and hold it till the janitorcame round to lock up the building for the night?"

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Answer me this, woman, frankly. How is her high note? Pretty lofty?"

"Why, yes. "

"Then say no more, " said Archie. "Leave this to me, my dear old betterfour-fifths! Hand the whole thing over to Archibald, the man who neverlets you down. I have a scheme!"

 As Archie approached his suite on the following afternoon he heardthrough the closed door the drone of a gruff male voice; and, going in, discovered Lucille in the company of his brother-in-law. Lucille, Archiethought, was looking a trifle fatigued. Bill, on the other hand, was ingreat shape. His eyes were shining, and his face looked so like that ofa stuffed frog that Archie had no difficulty in gathering that he hadbeen lecturing on the subject of his latest enslaver. 

"Hallo, Bill, old crumpet!" he said. 

"Hallo, Archie!"

"I'm so glad you've come, " said Lucille. "Bill is telling me all aboutSpectatia. "

"Who?"

"Spectatia. The girl, you know. Her name is Spectatia Huskisson. "

"It can't be!" said Archie, incredulously. 

"Why not?" growled Bill. 

"Well, how could it?" said Archie, appealing to him as a reasonable man. "I mean to say! Spectatia Huskisson! I gravely doubt whether there issuch a name. "

"What's wrong with it?" demanded the incensed Bill. "It's a darned sightbetter name than Archibald Moffam. "

"Don't fight, you two children!" intervened Lucille, firmly. "It's agood old Middle West name. Everybody knows the Huskissons of Snake Bite, Michigan. Besides, Bill calls her Tootles. "

"Pootles, " corrected Bill, austerely. 

"Oh, yes, Pootles. He calls her Pootles. "

"Young blood! Young blood!" sighed Archie. 

"I wish you wouldn't talk as if you were my grandfather. "

"I look on you as a son, laddie, a favourite son!"

"If I had a father like you--!"-"Ah, but you haven't, young-feller-me-lad, and that's the trouble. If you had, everythingwould be simple. But as your actual father, if you'll allow me tosay so, is one of the finest specimens of the human vampire-bat incaptivity, something has got to be done about it, and you're dashedlucky to have me in your corner, a guide, philosopher, and friend, full of the fruitiest ideas. Now, if you'll kindly listen to me for amoment--"

"I've been listening to you ever since you came in. "

"You wouldn't speak in that harsh tone of voice if you knew all!William, I have a scheme!"

"Well?"

"The scheme to which I allude is what Maeterlinck would call alallapaloosa!"

"What a little marvel he is!" said Lucille, regarding her husbandaffectionately. "He eats a lot of fish, Bill. That's what makes him soclever!"

"Shrimps!" diagnosed Bill, churlishly. 

"Do you know the leader of the orchestra in the restaurant downstairs?"asked Archie, ignoring the slur. 

"I know there IS a leader of the orchestra. What about him?"

"A sound fellow. Great pal of mine. I've forgotten his name--"

"Call him Pootles!" suggested Lucille. 

"Desist!" said Archie, as a wordless growl proceeded from his strickenbrother-in-law. "Temper your hilarity with a modicum of reserve. Thisgirlish frivolity is unseemly. Well, I'm going to have a chat with thischappie and fix it all up. "

"Fix what up?"

"The whole jolly business. I'm going to kill two birds with one stone. I've a composer chappie popping about in the background whose oneambish. Is to have his pet song sung before a discriminating audience. You have a singer straining at the leash. I'm going to arrange with thisegg who leads the orchestra that your female shall sing my chappie'ssong downstairs one night during dinner. How about it? Is it or is itnot a ball of fire?"

"It's not a bad idea, " admitted Bill, brightening visibly. "I wouldn'thave thought you had it in you. "

"Why not?"

"Well--"

"It's a capital idea, " said Lucille. "Quite out of the question, ofcourse. "

"How do you mean?"

"Don't you know that the one thing Father hates more than anything elsein the world is anything like a cabaret? People are always coming tohim, suggesting that it would brighten up the dinner hour if he hadsingers and things, and he crushes them into little bits. He thinksthere's nothing that lowers the tone of a place more. He'll bite you inthree places when you suggest it to him!"

"Ah! But has it escaped your notice, lighting system of my soul, thatthe dear old dad is not at present in residence? He went off to fish atLake What's-its-name this morning. "

"You aren't dreaming of doing this without asking him?"

"That was the general idea. "

"But he'll be furious when he finds out. "

"But will he find out? I ask you, will he?"

"Of course he will. "

"I don't see why he should, " said Bill, on whose plastic mind the planhad made a deep impression. 

"He won't, " said Archie, confidently. "This wheeze is for one nightonly. By the time the jolly old guv'nor returns, bitten to the bone bymosquitoes, with one small stuffed trout in his suit-case, everythingwill be over and all quiet once more along the Potomac. The scheme isthis. My chappie wants his song heard by a publisher. Your girl wantsher voice heard by one of the blighters who get up concerts and all thatsort of thing. No doubt you know such a bird, whom you could invite tothe hotel for a bit of dinner?"

"I know Carl Steinburg. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of writingto him about Spectatia. "

"You're absolutely sure that IS her name?" said Archie, his voice stilltinged with incredulity. "Oh, well, I suppose she told you so herself, and no doubt she knows best. That will be topping. Rope in your paland hold him down at the table till the finish. Lucille, the beautifulvision on the sky-line yonder, and I will be at another tableentertaining Maxie Blumenthal"

"Who on earth is Maxie Blumenthal?" asked Lucille. 

"One of my boyhood chums. A music-publisher. I'll get him to come along, and then we'll all be set. At the conclusion of the performance Miss--"Archie winced--"Miss Spectatia Huskisson will be signed up for a fortyweeks' tour, and jovial old Blumenthal will be making all arrangementsfor publishing the song. Two birds, as I indicated before, with onestone! How about it?"

"It's a winner, " said Bill. 

"Of course, " said Archie, "I'm not urging you. I merely make thesuggestion. If you know a better 'ole go to it!"

"It's terrific!" said Bill. 

"It's absurd!" said Lucille. 

"My dear old partner of joys and sorrows, " said Archie, wounded, "we court criticism, but this is mere abuse. What seems to be thedifficulty?"

"The leader of the orchestra would be afraid to do it. "

"Ten dollars--supplied by William here--push it over, Bill, oldman--will remove his tremors. "

"And Father's certain to find out. "

"Am I afraid of Father?" cried Archie, manfully. "Well, yes, I am!" headded, after a moment's reflection. "But I don't see how he can possiblyget to know. "

"Of course he can't, " said Bill, decidedly. "Fix it up as soon as youcan, Archie. This is what the doctor ordered. "

CHAPTER XXIV. THE MELTING OF MR. CONNOLLY

The main dining-room of the Hotel Cosmopolis is a decorous place. Thelighting is artistically dim, and the genuine old tapestries on thewalls seem, with their mediaeval calm, to discourage any essay in theriotous. Soft-footed waiters shimmer to and fro over thick, expensivecarpets to the music of an orchestra which abstains wholly from thenoisy modernity of jazz. To Archie, who during the past few days hadbeen privileged to hear Miss Huskisson rehearsing, the place had a sortof brooding quiet, like the ocean just before the arrival of a cyclone. As Lucille had said, Miss Huskisson's voice was loud. It was a powerfulorgan, and there was no doubt that it would take the cloisteredstillness of the Cosmopolis dining-room and stand it on one ear. Almostunconsciously, Archie found himself bracing his muscles and holding hisbreath as he had done in France at the approach of the zero hour, whenawaiting the first roar of a barrage. He listened mechanically to theconversation of Mr. Blumenthal. 

The music-publisher was talking with some vehemence on the subjectof Labour. A recent printers' strike had bitten deeply into Mr. Blumenthal's soul. The working man, he considered, was rapidly landingGod's Country in the soup, and he had twice upset his glass with thevehemence of his gesticulation. He was an energetic right-and-left-handtalker. 

"The more you give 'em the more they want!" he complained. "There's nopleasing 'em! It isn't only in my business. There's your father, Mrs. Moffam!"

"Good God! Where?" said Archie, starting. 

"I say, take your father's case. He's doing all he knows to get this newhotel of his finished, and what happens? A man gets fired for loafingon his job, and Connolly calls a strike. And the building operations areheld up till the thing's settled! It isn't right!"

"It's a great shame, " agreed Lucille. "I was reading about it in thepaper this morning. "

"That man Connolly's a tough guy. You'd think, being a personal friendof your father, he would--"

"I didn't know they were friends. "

"Been friends for years. But a lot of difference that makes. Out comethe men just the same. It isn't right! I was saying it wasn't right!"repeated Mr. Blumenthal to Archie, for he was a man who liked theattention of every member of his audience. 

Archie did not reply. He was staring glassily across the room at twomen who had just come in. One was a large, stout, square-faced man ofcommanding personality. The other was Mr. Daniel Brewster. 

Mr. Blumenthal followed his gaze. 

"Why, there is Connolly coming in now!"

"Father!" gasped Lucille. 

Her eyes met Archie's. Archie took a hasty drink of ice-water. 

"This, " he murmured, "has torn it!"

"Archie, you must do something!"

"I know! But what?"

"What's the trouble?" enquired Mr. Blumenthal, mystified. 

"Go over to their table and talk to them, " said Lucille. 

"Me!" Archie quivered. "No, I say, old thing, really!"

"Get them away!"

"How do you mean?"

"I know!" cried Lucille, inspired, "Father promised that you shouldbe manager of the new hotel when it was built. Well, then, this strikeaffects you just as much as anybody else. You have a perfect right totalk it over with them. Go and ask them to have dinner up in our suitewhere you can discuss it quietly. Say that up there they won't bedisturbed by the--the music. "

At this moment, while Archie wavered, hesitating like a diver on theedge of a spring-board who is trying to summon up the necessary nerve toproject himself into the deep, a bell-boy approached the table wherethe Messrs. Brewster and Connolly had seated themselves. He murmuredsomething in Mr. Brewster's ear, and the proprietor of the Cosmopolisrose and followed him out of the room. 

"Quick! Now's your chance!" said Lucille, eagerly. "Father's been calledto the telephone. Hurry!"

Archie took another drink of ice-water to steady his shakingnerve-centers, pulled down his waistcoat, straightened his tie, andthen, with something of the air of a Roman gladiator entering the arena, tottered across the room. Lucille turned to entertain the perplexedmusic-publisher. 

The nearer Archie got to Mr. Aloysius Connolly the less did he like thelooks of him. Even at a distance the Labour leader had had a formidableaspect. Seen close to, he looked even more uninviting. His face hadthe appearance of having been carved out of granite, and the eye whichcollided with Archie's as the latter, with an attempt at an ingratiatingsmile, pulled up a chair and sat down at the table was hard and frosty. Mr. Connolly gave the impression that he would be a good man to have onyour side during a rough-and-tumble fight down on the water-front or insome lumber-camp, but he did not look chummy. 

"Hallo-allo-allo!" said Archie. 

"Who the devil, " inquired Mr. Connolly, "are you?"

"My name's Archibald Moffam. "

"That's not my fault. "

"I'm jolly old Brewster's son-in-law. "

"Glad to meet you. "

"Glad to meet YOU, " said Archie, handsomely. 

"Well, good-bye!" said Mr. Connolly. 

"Eh?"

"Run along and sell your papers. Your father-in-law and I have businessto discuss. "

"Yes, I know. "

"Private, " added Mr. Connolly. 

"Oh, but I'm in on this binge, you know. I'm going to be the manager ofthe new hotel. "

"You!"

"Absolutely!"

"Well, well!" said Mr. Connolly, noncommittally. 

Archie, pleased with the smoothness with which matters had opened, bentforward winsomely. 

"I say, you know! It won't do, you know! Absolutely no! Not a bit likeit! No, no, far from it! Well, how about it? How do we go? What? Yes?No?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Call it off, old thing!"

"Call what off?"

"This festive old strike. "

"Not on your--hallo, Dan! Back again?"

Mr. Brewster, looming over the table like a thundercloud, regardedArchie with more than his customary hostility. Life was no pleasantthing for the proprietor of the Cosmopolis just now. Once a man startsbuilding hotels, the thing becomes like dram-drinking. Any hitch, anysudden cutting-off of the daily dose, has the worst effects; and thestrike which was holding up the construction of his latest effort hadplunged Mr. Brewster into a restless gloom. In addition to having thisstrike on his hands, he had had to abandon his annual fishing-trip justwhen he had begun to enjoy it; and, as if all this were not enough, herewas his son-in-law sitting at his table. Mr. Brewster had a feeling thatthis was more than man was meant to bear. 

"What do you want?" he demanded. 

"Hallo, old thing!" said Archie. "Come and join the party!"

"Don't call me old thing!"

"Right-o, old companion, just as you say. I say, I was just going tosuggest to Mr. Connolly that we should all go up to my suite and talkthis business over quietly. "

"He says he's the manager of your new hotel, " said Mr. Connolly. "Isthat right?"

"I suppose so, " said Mr. Brewster, gloomily. 

"Then I'm doing you a kindness, " said Mr. Connolly, "in not letting itbe built. "

Archie dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. The moments wereflying, and it began to seem impossible to shift these two men. Mr. Connolly was as firmly settled in his chair as some primeval rock. Asfor Mr. Brewster, he, too, had seated himself, and was gazing at Archiewith a weary repulsion. Mr. Brewster's glance always made Archie feel asthough there were soup on his shirt-front. 

And suddenly from the orchestra at the other end of the room there camea familiar sound, the prelude of "Mother's Knee. "

"So you've started a cabaret, Dan?" said Mr. Connolly, in a satisfiedvoice. "I always told you you were behind the times here!"

Mr. Brewster jumped. 

"Cabaret!"

He stared unbelievingly at the white-robed figure which had just mountedthe orchestra dais, and then concentrated his gaze on Archie. 

Archie would not have looked at his father-in-law at this juncture if hehad had a free and untrammelled choice; but Mr. Brewster's eye drew hiswith something of the fascination which a snake's has for a rabbit. Mr. Brewster's eye was fiery and intimidating. A basilisk might have gone tohim with advantage for a course of lessons. His gaze went right throughArchie till the latter seemed to feel his back-hair curling crisply inthe flames. 

"Is this one of your fool-tricks?"

Even in this tense moment Archie found time almost unconsciously toadmire his father-in-law's penetration and intuition. He seemed to havea sort of sixth sense. No doubt this was how great fortunes were made. 

"Well, as a matter of fact--to be absolutely accurate--it was likethis--"

"Say, cut it out!" said Mr. Connolly. "Can the chatter! I want tolisten. "

Archie was only too ready to oblige him. Conversation at the moment wasthe last thing he himself desired. He managed with a strong effort todisengage himself from Mr. Brewster's eye, and turned to the orchestradais, where Miss Spectatia Huskisson was now beginning the first verseof Wilson Hymack's masterpiece. 

Miss Huskisson, like so many of the female denizens of the Middle West, was tall and blonde and constructed on substantial lines. She was a girlwhose appearance suggested the old homestead and fried pancakes and popcoming home to dinner after the morning's ploughing. Even her bobbedhair did not altogether destroy this impression. She looked big andstrong and healthy, and her lungs were obviously good. She attacked theverse of the song with something of the vigour and breadth of treatmentwith which in other days she had reasoned with refractory mules. Herdiction was the diction of one trained to call the cattle home in theteeth of Western hurricanes. Whether you wanted to or not, you heardevery word. 

The subdued clatter of knives and forks had ceased. The diners, unusedto this sort of thing at the Cosmopolis, were trying to adjust theirfaculties to cope with the outburst. Waiters stood transfixed, frozen, in attitudes of service. In the momentary lull between verse and refrainArchie could hear the deep breathing of Mr. Brewster. Involuntarilyhe turned to gaze at him once more, as refugees from Pompeii may haveturned to gaze upon Vesuvius; and, as he did so, he caught sight of Mr. Connolly, and paused in astonishment. 

Mr. Connolly was an altered man. His whole personality had undergonea subtle change. His face still looked as though hewn from the livingrock, but into his eyes had crept an expression which in another manmight almost have been called sentimental. Incredible as it seemedto Archie, Mr. Connolly's eyes were dreamy. There was even in them asuggestion of unshed tears. And when with a vast culmination of soundMiss Huskisson reached the high note at the end of the refrain and, after holding it as some storming-party, spent but victorious, holds thesummit of a hard-won redoubt, broke off suddenly, in the stillness whichfollowed there proceeded from Mr. Connolly a deep sigh. 

Miss Huskisson began the second verse. And Mr. Brewster, seeming torecover from some kind of a trance, leaped to his feet. 

"Great Godfrey!"

"Sit down!" said Mr. Connolly, in a broken voice. "Sit down, Dan!"

 "He went back to his mother on the train that very day: He knew there was no other who could make him bright and gay: He kissed her on the forehead and he whispered, 'I've come home!' He told her he was never going any more to roam. And onward through the happy years, till he grew old and grey, He never once regretted those brave words he once did say: It's a long way back to mother's knee--"

The last high note screeched across the room like a shell, and theapplause that followed was like a shell's bursting. One could hardlyhave recognised the refined interior of the Cosmopolis dining-room. Fairwomen were waving napkins; brave men were hammering on the tables withthe butt-end of knives, for all the world as if they imagined themselvesto be in one of those distressing midnight-revue places. Miss Huskissonbowed, retired, returned, bowed, and retired again, the tearsstreaming down her ample face. Over in a corner Archie could see hisbrother-in-law clapping strenuously. A waiter, with a display of manlyemotion that did him credit, dropped an order of new peas. 

"Thirty years ago last October, " said Mr. Connolly, in a shaking voice, "I--"

Mr. Brewster interrupted him violently. 

"I'll fire that orchestra-leader! He goes to-morrow! I'll fire--" Heturned on Archie. "What the devil do you mean by it, you--you--"

"Thirty years ago, " said Mr. Connolly, wiping away a tear with hisnapkin, "I left me dear old home in the old country--"

"MY hotel a bear-garden!"

"Frightfully sorry and all that, old companion--"

"Thirty years ago last October! 'Twas a fine autumn evening the finestye'd ever wish to see. Me old mother, she came to the station to see meoff. "

Mr. Brewster, who was not deeply interested in Mr. Connolly's oldmother, continued to splutter inarticulately, like a firework trying togo off. 

"'Ye'll always be a good boy, Aloysius?' she said to me, " said Mr. Connolly, proceeding with, his autobiography. "And I said: 'Yes, Mother, I will!'" Mr. Connolly sighed and applied the napkin again. "'Twas aliar I was!" he observed, remorsefully. "Many's the dirty I've playedsince then. 'It's a long way back to Mother's knee. ' 'Tis a true word!"He turned impulsively to Mr. Brewster. "Dan, there's a deal of troublein this world without me going out of me way to make more. The strike isover! I'll send the men back tomorrow! There's me hand on it!"

Mr. Brewster, who had just managed to co-ordinate his views on thesituation and was about to express them with the generous strength whichwas ever his custom when dealing with his son-in-law, checked himselfabruptly. He stared at his old friend and business enemy, wondering ifhe could have heard aright. Hope began to creep back into Mr. Brewster'sheart, like a shamefaced dog that has been away from home hunting for aday or two. 

"You'll what!"

"I'll send the men back to-morrow! That song was sent to guide me, Dan!It was meant! Thirty years ago last October me dear old mother--"

Mr. Brewster bent forward attentively. His views on Mr. Connolly's dearold mother had changed. He wanted to hear all about her. 

"'Twas that last note that girl sang brought it all back to me as if'twas yesterday. As we waited on the platform, me old mother and I, outcomes the train from the tunnel, and the engine lets off a screech theway ye'd hear it ten miles away. 'Twas thirty years ago--"

Archie stole softly from the table. He felt that his presence, if it hadever been required, was required no longer. Looking back, he could seehis father-in-law patting Mr. Connolly affectionately on the shoulder. 

Archie and Lucille lingered over their coffee. Mr. Blumenthal was outin the telephone-box settling the business end with Wilson Hymack. Themusic-publisher had been unstinted in his praise of "Mother's Knee. "It was sure-fire, he said. The words, stated Mr. Blumenthal, were gooeyenough to hurt, and the tune reminded him of every other song-hit he hadever heard. There was, in Mr. Blumenthal's opinion, nothing to stop thisthing selling a million copies. 

Archie smoked contentedly. 

"Not a bad evening's work, old thing, " he said. "Talk about birds withone stone!" He looked at Lucille reproachfully. "You don't seem bubblingover with joy. "

"Oh, I am, precious!" Lucille sighed. "I was only thinking about Bill. "

"What about Bill?"

"Well, it's rather awful to think of him tied for life to that-thatsteam-siren. "

"Oh, we mustn't look on the jolly old dark side. Perhaps--Hallo, Bill, old top! We were just talking about you. "

"Were you?" said Bill Brewster, in a dispirited voice. 

"I take it that you want congratulations, what?"

"I want sympathy!"

"Sympathy?"

"Sympathy! And lots of it! She's gone!"

"Gone! Who?"

"Spectatia!"

"How do you mean, gone?"

Bill glowered at the tablecloth. 

"Gone home. I've just seen her off in a cab. She's gone back toWashington Square to pack. She's catching the ten o'clock train backto Snake Bite. It was that damned song!" muttered Bill, in a strickenvoice. "She says she never realised before she sang it to-night howhollow New York was. She said it suddenly came over her. She says she'sgoing to give up her career and go back to her mother. What the deuceare you twiddling your fingers for?" he broke off, irritably. 

"Sorry, old man. I was just counting. "

"Counting? Counting what?"

"Birds, old thing. Only birds!" said Archie. 

CHAPTER XXV. THE WIGMORE VENUS

The morning was so brilliantly fine; the populace popped to and froin so active and cheery a manner; and everybody appeared to be soabsolutely in the pink, that a casual observer of the city of New Yorkwould have said that it was one of those happy days. Yet Archie Moffam, as he turned out of the sun-bathed street into the ramshackle buildingon the third floor of which was the studio belonging to his artistfriend, James B. Wheeler, was faintly oppressed with a sort of a kindof feeling that something was wrong. He would not have gone so far as tosay that he had the pip--it was more a vague sense of discomfort. And, searching for first causes as he made his way upstairs, he came to theconclusion that the person responsible for this nebulous depression washis wife, Lucille. It seemed to Archie that at breakfast that morningLucille's manner had been subtly rummy. Nothing you could put yourfinger on, still--rummy. 

Musing thus, he reached the studio, and found the door open and the roomempty. It had the air of a room whose owner has dashed in to fetchhis golf-clubs and biffed off, after the casual fashion of the artisttemperament, without bothering to close up behind him. And such, indeed, was the case. The studio had seen the last of J. B. Wheeler for thatday: but Archie, not realising this and feeling that a chat with Mr. Wheeler, who was a light-hearted bird, was what he needed this morning, sat down to wait. After a few moments, his gaze, straying over the room, encountered a handsomely framed picture, and he went across to take alook at it. 

J. B. Wheeler was an artist who made a large annual income as anillustrator for the magazines, and it was a surprise to Archie to findthat he also went in for this kind of thing. For the picture, dashinglypainted in oils, represented a comfortably plump young woman who, fromher rather weak-minded simper and the fact that she wore absolutelynothing except a small dove on her left shoulder, was plainly intendedto be the goddess Venus. Archie was not much of a lad around thepicture-galleries, but he knew enough about Art to recognise Venus whenhe saw her; though once or twice, it is true, artists had double-crossedhim by ringing in some such title as "Day Dreams, " or "When the Heart isYoung. "

He inspected this picture for awhile, then, returning to his seat, lita cigarette and began to meditate on Lucille once more. "Yes, the deargirl had been rummy at breakfast. She had not exactly said anything ordone anything out of the ordinary; but--well, you know how it is. Wehusbands, we lads of the for-better-or-for-worse brigade, we learnto pierce the mask. There had been in Lucille's manner that curious, strained sweetness which comes to women whose husbands have failed tomatch the piece of silk or forgotten to post an important letter. If hisconscience had not been as clear as crystal, Archie would have saidthat that was what must have been the matter. But, when Lucille wroteletters, she just stepped out of the suite and dropped them in themail-chute attached to the elevator. It couldn't be that. And hecouldn't have forgotten anything else, because--"

"Oh my sainted aunt!"

Archie's cigarette smouldered, neglected, between his fingers. Hisjaw had fallen and his eyes were staring glassily before him. He wasappalled. His memory was weak, he knew; but never before had it let himdown, so scurvily as this. This was a record. It stood in a class byitself, printed in red ink and marked with a star, as the bloomer of alifetime. For a man may forget many things: he may forget his name, hisumbrella, his nationality, his spats, and the friends of hisyouth: but there is one thing which your married man, yourin-sickness-and-in-health lizard must not forget: and that is theanniversary of his wedding-day. 

Remorse swept over Archie like a wave. His heart bled for Lucille. Nowonder the poor girl had been rummy at breakfast. What girl wouldn't berummy at breakfast, tied for life to a ghastly outsider like himself? Hegroaned hollowly, and sagged forlornly in his chair: and, as he did so, the Venus caught his eye. For it was an eye-catching picture. You mightlike it or dislike it, but you could not ignore it. 

As a strong swimmer shoots to the surface after a high dive, Archie'ssoul rose suddenly from the depths to which it had descended. He did notoften get inspirations, but he got one now. Hope dawned with a jerk. Theone way out had presented itself to him. A rich present! That was thewheeze. If he returned to her bearing a rich present, he might, with thehelp of Heaven and a face of brass, succeed in making her believe thathe had merely pretended to forget the vital date in order to enhance thesurprise. 

It was a scheme. Like some great general forming his plan of campaign onthe eve of battle, Archie had the whole binge neatly worked out inside aminute. He scribbled a note to Mr. Wheeler, explaining the situation andpromising reasonable payment on the instalment system; then, placing thenote in a conspicuous position on the easel, he leaped to the telephone:and presently found himself connected with Lucille's room at theCosmopolis. 

"Hullo, darling, " he cooed. 

There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire. 

"Oh, hullo, Archie!"

Lucille's voice was dull and listless, and Archie's experienced earcould detect that she had been crying. He raised his right foot, andkicked himself indignantly on the left ankle. 

"Many happy returns of the day, old thing!"

A muffled sob floated over the wire. 

"Have you only just remembered?" said Lucille in a small voice. 

Archie, bracing himself up, cackled gleefully into the receiver. 

"Did I take you in, light of my home? Do you mean to say you reallythought I had forgotten? For Heaven's sake!"

"You didn't say a word at breakfast. "

"Ah, but that was all part of the devilish cunning. I hadn't got apresent for you then. At least, I didn't know whether it was ready. "

"Oh, Archie, you darling!" Lucille's voice had lost its crushedmelancholy. She trilled like a thrush, or a linnet, or any bird thatgoes in largely for trilling. "Have you really got me a present?"

"It's here now. The dickens of a fruity picture. One of J. B. Wheeler'sthings. You'll like it. "

"Oh, I know I shall. I love his work. You are an angel. We'll hang itover the piano. "

"I'll be round with it in something under three ticks, star of my soul. I'll take a taxi. "

"Yes, do hurry! I want to hug you!"

"Right-o!" said Archie. "I'll take two taxis. "

It is not far from Washington Square to the Hotel Cosmopolis, and Archiemade the journey without mishap. There was a little unpleasantnesswith the cabman before starting--he, on the prudish plea that he was amarried man with a local reputation to keep up, declining at first to beseen in company with the masterpiece. But, on Archie giving a promise tokeep the front of the picture away from the public gaze, he consentedto take the job on; and, some ten minutes later, having made his wayblushfully through the hotel lobby and endured the frank curiosity ofthe boy who worked the elevator, Archie entered his suite, the pictureunder his arm. 

He placed it carefully against the wall in order to leave himself morescope for embracing Lucille, and when the joyful reunion--or the sacredscene, if you prefer so to call it, was concluded, he stepped forward toturn it round and exhibit it. 

"Why, it's enormous, " said Lucille. "I didn't know Mr. Wheeler everpainted pictures that size. When you said it was one of his, I thoughtit must be the original of a magazine drawing or something like--Oh!"

Archie had moved back and given her an uninterrupted view of the work ofart, and she had started as if some unkindly disposed person had drivena bradawl into her. 

"Pretty ripe, what?" said Archie enthusiastically. 

Lucille did not speak for a moment. It may have been sudden joy thatkept her silent. Or, on the other hand, it may not. She stood looking atthe picture with wide eyes and parted lips. 

"A bird, eh?" said Archie. 

"Y--yes, " said Lucille. 

"I knew you'd like it, " proceeded Archie with animation, "You see?you're by way of being a picture-hound--know all about the things, and what not--inherit it from the dear old dad, I shouldn't wonder. Personally, I can't tell one picture from another as a rule, but I'mbound to say, the moment I set eyes on this, I said to myself 'Whatho!' or words to that effect, I rather think this will add a touch ofdistinction to the home, yes, no? I'll hang it up, shall I? 'Phone downto the office, light of my soul, and tell them to send up a nail, a bitof string, and the hotel hammer. "

"One moment, darling. I'm not quite sure. "

"Eh?"

"Where it ought to hang, I mean. You see--"

"Over the piano, you said. The jolly old piano. "

"Yes, but I hadn't seen it then. "

A monstrous suspicion flitted for an instant into Archie's mind. 

"I say, you do like it, don't you?" he said anxiously. 

"Oh, Archie, darling! Of course I do!-And it was so sweet of you to giveit to me. But, what I was trying to say was that this picture is so--sostriking that I feel that we ought to wait a little while and decidewhere it would have the best effect. The light over the piano is ratherstrong. "

"You think it ought to hang in a dimmish light, what?"

"Yes, yes. The dimmer the--I mean, yes, in a dim light. Suppose we leaveit in the corner for the moment--over there--behind the sofa, and--andI'll think it over. It wants a lot of thought, you know. "

"Right-o! Here?"

"Yes, that will do splendidly. Oh, and, Archie. "

"Hullo?"

"I think perhaps... Just turn its face to the wall, will you?" Lucillegave a little gulp. "It will prevent it getting dusty. "

It perplexed Archie a little during the next few days to notice inLucille, whom he had always looked on as pre-eminently a girl who knewher own mind, a curious streak of vacillation. Quite half a dozen timeshe suggested various spots on the wall as suitable for the Venus, butLucille seemed unable to decide. Archie wished that she would settle onsomething definite, for he wanted to invite J. B. Wheeler to the suiteto see the thing. He had heard nothing from the artist since the day hehad removed the picture, and one morning, encountering him on Broadway, he expressed his appreciation of the very decent manner in which theother had taken the whole affair. 

"Oh, that!" said J. B. Wheeler. "My dear fellow, you're welcome. " Hepaused for a moment. "More than welcome, " he added. "You aren't much ofan expert on pictures, are you?"

"Well, " said Archie, "I don't know that you'd call me an absolute nib, don't you know, but of course I know enough to see that this particularexhibit is not a little fruity. Absolutely one of the best things you'veever done, laddie. "

A slight purple tinge manifested itself in Mr. Wheeler's round and rosyface. His eyes bulged. 

"What are you talking about, you Tishbite? You misguided son of Belial, are you under the impression that _I_ painted that thing?"

"Didn't you?"

Mr. Wheeler swallowed a little convulsively. 

"My fiancee painted it, " he said shortly. 

"Your fiancee? My dear old lad, I didn't know you were engaged. Who isshe? Do I know her?"

"Her name is Alice Wigmore. You don't know her. "

"And she painted that picture?" Archie was perturbed. "But, I say! Won'tshe be apt to wonder where the thing has got to?"

"I told her it had been stolen. She thought it a great compliment, andwas tickled to death. So that's all right. "

"And, of course, she'll paint you another. "

"Not while I have my strength she won't, " said J. B. Wheeler firmly. "She's given up painting since I taught her golf, thank goodness, andmy best efforts shall be employed in seeing that she doesn't have arelapse. "

"But, laddie, " said Archie, puzzled, "you talk as though there weresomething wrong with the picture. I thought it dashed hot stuff. "

"God bless you!" said J. B. Wheeler. 

Archie proceeded on his way, still mystified. Then he reflected thatartists as a class were all pretty weird and rummy and talked more orless consistently through their hats. You couldn't ever take an artist'sopinion on a picture. Nine out of ten of them had views on Art whichwould have admitted them to any looney-bin, and no questions asked. Hehad met several of the species who absolutely raved over things whichany reasonable chappie would decline to be found dead in a ditch with. His admiration for the Wigmore Venus, which had faltered for a momentduring his conversation with J. B. Wheeler, returned in all its pristinevigour. Absolute rot, he meant to say, to try to make out that it wasn'tone of the ones and just like mother used to make. Look how Lucille hadliked it!

At breakfast next morning, Archie once more brought up the question ofthe hanging of the picture. It was absurd to let a thing like that go onwasting its sweetness behind a sofa with its face to the wall. 

"Touching the jolly old masterpiece, " he said, "how about it? I thinkit's time we hoisted it up somewhere. "

Lucille fiddled pensively with her coffee-spoon. 

"Archie, dear, " she said, "I've been thinking. "

"And a very good thing to do, " said Archie. "I've often meant to do itmyself when I got a bit of time. "

"About that picture, I mean. Did you know it was father's birthdayto-morrow?"

"Why no, old thing, I didn't, to be absolutely honest. Your reveredparent doesn't confide in me much these days, as a matter of fact. "

"Well, it is. And I think we ought to give him a present. "

"Absolutely. But how? I'm all for spreading sweetness and light, andcheering up the jolly old pater's sorrowful existence, but I haven't abean. And, what is more, things have come to such a pass that I scan thehorizon without seeing a single soul I can touch. I suppose I could getinto Reggie van Tuyl's ribs for a bit, but--I don't know--touching poorold Reggie always seems to me rather like potting a pitting bird. "

"Of course, I don't want you to do anything like that. I wasthinking--Archie, darling, would you be very hurt if I gave father thepicture?"

"Oh, I say!"

"Well, I can't think of anything else. "

"But wouldn't you miss it most frightfully?"

"Oh, of course I should. But you see--father's birthday--"

Archie had always thought Lucille the dearest and most unselfish angelin the world, but never had the fact come home to him so forcibly asnow. He kissed her fondly. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "You really are, you know! This is the biggestthing since jolly old Sir Philip What's-his-name gave the drink of waterto the poor blighter whose need was greater than his, if you recall theincident. I had to sweat it up at school, I remember. Sir Philip, poorold bean, had a most ghastly thirst on, and he was just going tohave one on the house, so to speak, when... But it's all in thehistory-books. This is the sort of thing Boy Scouts do! Well, of course, it's up to you, queen of my soul. If you feel like making the sacrifice, right-o! Shall I bring the pater up here and show him the picture?"

"No, I shouldn't do that. Do you think you could get into his suiteto-morrow morning and hang it up somewhere? You see, if he had thechance of--what I mean is, if--yes, I think it would be best to hang itup and let him discover it there. "

"It would give him a surprise, you mean, what?"

"Yes. "

Lucille sighed inaudibly. She was a girl with a conscience, and thatconscience was troubling her a little. She agreed with Archie that thediscovery of the Wigmore Venus in his artistically furnished suitewould give Mr. Brewster a surprise. Surprise, indeed, was perhaps aninadequate word. She was sorry for her father, but the instinct ofself-preservation is stronger than any other emotion. 

Archie whistled merrily on the following morning as, having driven anail into his father-in-law's wallpaper, he adjusted the cord from whichthe Wigmore Venus was suspended. He was a kind-hearted young man, and, though Mr. Daniel Brewster had on many occasions treated him with a gooddeal of austerity, his simple soul was pleased at the thought ofdoing him a good turn, He had just completed his work and wasstepping cautiously down, when a voice behind him nearly caused him tooverbalance. 

"What the devil?"

Archie turned beamingly. 

"Hullo, old thing! Many happy returns of the day!"

Mr. Brewster was standing in a frozen attitude. His strong face wasslightly flushed. 

"What--what--?" he gurgled. 

Mr. Brewster was not in one of his sunniest moods that morning. Theproprietor of a large hotel has many things to disturb him, and to-daythings had been going wrong. He had come up to his suite with the ideaof restoring his shaken nerve system with a quiet cigar, and the sightof his son-in-law had, as so frequently happened, made him feel worsethan ever. But, when Archie had descended from the chair and moved asideto allow him an uninterrupted view of the picture, Mr. Brewster realisedthat a worse thing had befallen him than a mere visit from one whoalways made him feel that the world was a bleak place. 

He stared at the Venus dumbly. Unlike most hotel-proprietors, DanielBrewster was a connoisseur of Art. Connoisseuring was, in fact, hishobby. Even the public rooms of the Cosmopolis were decorated withtaste, and his own private suite was a shrine of all that was best andmost artistic. His tastes were quiet and restrained, and it is not toomuch to say that the Wigmore Venus hit him behind the ear like a stuffedeel-skin. 

So great was the shock that for some moments it kept him silent, andbefore he could recover speech Archie had explained. 

"It's a birthday present from Lucille, don't you know. "

Mr. Brewster crushed down the breezy speech he had intended to utter. 

"Lucille gave me--that?" he muttered. 

He swallowed pathetically. He was suffering, but the iron courage of theBrewsters stood him in good stead. This man was no weakling. Presentlythe rigidity of his face relaxed. He was himself again. Of all thingsin the world he loved his daughter most, and if, in whoever mood oftemporary insanity, she had brought herself to suppose that this beastlydaub was the sort of thing he would like for a birthday present, he mustaccept the situation like a man. He would on the whole have preferreddeath to a life lived in the society of the Wigmore Venus, but even thattorment must be endured if the alternative was the hurting of Lucille'sfeelings. 

"I think I've chosen a pretty likely spot to hang the thing, what?" saidArchie cheerfully. "It looks well alongside those Japanese prints, don'tyou think? Sort of stands out. "

Mr. Brewster licked his dry lips and grinned a ghastly grin. 

"It does stand out!" he agreed. 

CHAPTER XXVI. A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER

Archie was not a man who readily allowed himself to become worried, especially about people who were not in his own immediate circle offriends, but in the course of the next week he was bound to admit thathe was not altogether easy in his mind about his father-in-law's mentalcondition. He had read all sorts of things in the Sunday papers andelsewhere about the constant strain to which captains of industry aresubjected, a strain which sooner or later is only too apt to makethe victim go all blooey, and it seemed to him that Mr. Brewsterwas beginning to find the going a trifle too tough for his stamina. Undeniably he was behaving in an odd manner, and Archie, thoughno physician, was aware that, when the American business-man, thatrestless, ever-active human machine, starts behaving in an odd manner, the next thing you know is that two strong men, one attached to eacharm, are hurrying him into the cab bound for Bloomingdale. 

He did not confide his misgivings to Lucille, not wishing to cause heranxiety. He hunted up Reggie van Tuyl at the club, and sought advicefrom him. 

"I say, Reggie, old thing--present company excepted--have there been anyloonies in your family?"

Reggie stirred in the slumber which always gripped him in the earlyafternoon. 

"Loonies?" he mumbled, sleepily. "Rather! My uncle Edgar thought he wastwins. "

"Twins, eh?"

"Yes. Silly idea! I mean, you'd have thought one of my uncle Edgar wouldhave been enough for any man. "

"How did the thing start?" asked Archie. 

"Start? Well, the first thing we noticed was when he began wanting twoof everything. Had to set two places for him at dinner and so on. Alwayswanted two seats at the theatre. Ran into money, I can tell you. "

"He didn't behave rummily up till then? I mean to say, wasn't sort ofjumpy and all that?"

"Not that I remember. Why?"

Archie's tone became grave. 

"Well, I'll tell you, old man, though I don't want it to go any farther, that I'm a bit worried about my jolly old father-in-law. I believe he'sabout to go in off the deep-end. I think he's cracking under the strain. Dashed weird his behaviour has been the last few days. "

"Such as?" murmured Mr. Van Tuyl. 

"Well, the other morning I happened to be in his suite--incidentally hewouldn't go above ten dollars, and I wanted twenty-five-and he suddenlypicked up a whacking big paper-weight and bunged it for all he wasworth. "

"At you?"

"Not at me. That was the rummy part of it. At a mosquito on the wall, hesaid. Well, I mean to say, do chappies bung paper-weights at mosquitoes?I mean, is it done?"

"Smash anything?"

"Curiously enough, no. But he only just missed a rather decent picturewhich Lucille had given him for his birthday. Another foot to the leftand it would have been a goner. "

"Sounds queer. "

"And, talking of that picture, I looked in on him about a couple ofafternoons later, and he'd taken it down from the wall and laid it onthe floor and was staring at it in a dashed marked sort of manner. Thatwas peculiar, what?"

"On the floor?"

"On the jolly old carpet. When I came in, he was goggling at it in asort of glassy way. Absolutely rapt, don't you know. My coming in gavehim a start--seemed to rouse him from a kind of trance, you know--and hejumped like an antelope; and, if I hadn't happened to grab him, he wouldhave trampled bang on the thing. It was deuced unpleasant, you know. Hismanner was rummy. He seemed to be brooding on something. What ought I todo about it, do you think? It's not my affair, of course, but itseams to me that, if he goes on like this, one of these days he'll bestabbing, someone with a pickle-fork. "

To Archie's relief, his father-in-law's symptoms showed no signs ofdevelopment. In fact, his manner reverted to the normal once more, anda few days later, meeting Archie in the lobby of the hotel, he seemedquite cheerful. It was not often that he wasted his time talking to hisson-in-law, but on this occasion he chatted with him for several minutesabout the big picture-robbery which had formed the chief item of newson the front pages of the morning papers that day. It was Mr. Brewster'sopinion that the outrage had been the work of a gang and that nobody wassafe. 

Daniel Brewster had spoken of this matter with strange earnestness, buthis words had slipped from Archie's mind when he made his way that nightto his father-in-law's suite. Archie was in an exalted mood. In thecourse of dinner he had had a bit of good news which was occupying histhoughts to the exclusion of all other matters. It had left him in acomfortable, if rather dizzy, condition of benevolence to all createdthings. He had smiled at the room-clerk as he crossed the lobby, and ifhe had had a dollar, he would have given it to the boy who took him upin the elevator. 

He found the door of the Brewster suite unlocked which at any other timewould have struck him as unusual; but to-night he was in no frame ofmind to notice these trivialities. He went in, and, finding the roomdark and no one at home, sat down, too absorbed in his thoughts toswitch on the lights, and gave himself up to dreamy meditation. 

There are certain moods in which one loses count of time, and Archiecould not have said how long he had been sitting in the deep arm-chairnear the window when he first became aware that he was not alone in theroom. He had closed his eyes, the better to meditate, so had not seenanyone enter. Nor had he heard the door open. The first intimationhe had that somebody had come in was when some hard substance knockedagainst some other hard object, producing a sharp sound which broughthim back to earth with a jerk. 

He sat up silently. The fact that the room was still in darkness made itobvious that something nefarious was afoot. Plainly there was dirty workin preparation at the cross-roads. He stared into the blackness, and, ashis eyes grew accustomed to it, was presently able to see an indistinctform bending over something on the floor. The sound of rather stertorousbreathing came to him. 

Archie had many defects which prevented him being the perfect man, but lack of courage was not one of them. His somewhat rudimentaryintelligence had occasionally led his superior officers during the warto thank God that Great Britain had a Navy, but even these stern criticshad found nothing to complain of in the manner in which he bounded overthe top. Some of us are thinkers, others men of action. Archie was a manof action, and he was out of his chair and sailing in the direction ofthe back of the intruder's neck before a wiser man would have completedhis plan of campaign. The miscreant collapsed under him with a squashysound, like the wind going out of a pair of bellows, and Archie, takinga firm seat on his spine, rubbed the other's face in the carpet andawaited the progress of events. 

At the end of half a minute it became apparent that there was goingto be no counter-attack. The dashing swiftness of the assault hadapparently had the effect of depriving the marauder of his entire stockof breath. He was gurgling to himself in a pained sort of way and makingno effort to rise. Archie, feeling that it would be safe to get upand switch on the light, did so, and, turning after completing thismanoeuvre, was greeted by the spectacle of his father-in-law, seatedon the floor in a breathless and dishevelled condition, blinking at thesudden illumination. On the carpet beside Mr. Brewster lay a long knife, and beside the knife lay the handsomely framed masterpiece of J. B. Wheeler's fiancee, Miss Alice Wigmore. Archie stared at this collectiondumbly. 

"Oh, what-ho!" he observed at length, feebly. 

A distinct chill manifested itself in the region of Archie's spine. Thiscould mean only one thing. His fears had been realised. The strain ofmodern life, with all its hustle and excitement, had at last proved toomuch for Mr. Brewster. Crushed by the thousand and one anxieties andworries of a millionaire's existence, Daniel Brewster had gone off hisonion. 

Archie was nonplussed. This was his first experience of this kind ofthing. What, he asked himself, was the proper procedure in a situationof this sort? What was the local rule? Where, in a word, did he go fromhere? He was still musing in an embarrassed and baffled way, havingtaken the precaution of kicking the knife under the sofa, when Mr. Brewster spoke. And there was in, both the words and the method oftheir delivery so much of his old familiar self that Archie felt quiterelieved. 

"So it's you, is it, you wretched blight, you miserable weed!" saidMr. Brewster, having recovered enough breath to be going on with. Heglowered at his son-in-law despondently. "I might have, expected it! IfI was at the North Pole, I could count on you butting in!"

"Shall I get you a drink of water?" said Archie. 

"What the devil, " demanded Mr. Brewster, "do you imagine I want with adrink of water?"

"Well--" Archie hesitated delicately. "I had a sort of idea that you hadbeen feeling the strain a bit. I mean to say, rush of modern life andall that sort of thing--"

"What are you doing in my room?" said Mr. Brewster, changing thesubject. 

"Well, I came to tell you something, and I came in here and was waitingfor you, and I saw some chappie biffing about in the dark, and I thoughtit was a burglar or something after some of your things, so, thinking itover, I got the idea that it would be a fairly juicy scheme to land onhim with both feet. No idea it was you, old thing! Frightfully sorry andall that. Meant well!"

Mr. Brewster sighed deeply. He was a just man, and he could not butrealise that, in the circumstances, Archie had behaved not unnaturally. 

"Oh, well!" he said. "I might have known something would go wrong. "

"Awfully sorry!"

"It can't be helped. What was it you wanted to tell me?" He eyed hisson-in-law piercingly. "Not a cent over twenty dollars!" he said coldly. 

Archie hastened to dispel the pardonable error. 

"Oh, it wasn't anything like that, " he said. "As a matter of fact, Ithink it's a good egg. It has bucked me up to no inconsiderabledegree. I was dining with Lucille just now, and, as we dallied with thefood-stuffs, she told me something which--well, I'm bound to say, itmade me feel considerably braced. She told me to trot along and ask youif you would mind--"

"I gave Lucille a hundred dollars only last Tuesday. "

Archie was pained. 

"Adjust this sordid outlook, old thing!" he urged. "You simply aren'tanywhere near it. Right off the target, absolutely! What Lucille told meto ask you was if you would mind--at some tolerably near date--beinga grandfather! Rotten thing to be, of course, " proceeded Archiecommiseratingly, "for a chappie of your age, but there it is!"

Mr. Brewster gulped. 

"Do you mean to say--?"

"I mean, apt to make a fellow feel a bit of a patriarch. Snowy hair andwhat not. And, of course, for a chappie in the prime of life like you--"

"Do you mean to tell me--? Is this true?"

"Absolutely! Of course, speaking for myself, I'm all for it. I don'tknow when I've felt more bucked. I sang as I came up here--absolutelywarbled in the elevator. But you--"

A curious change had come over Mr. Brewster. He was one of those men whohave the appearance of having been hewn out of the solid rock, but nowin some indescribable way he seemed to have melted. For a moment hegazed at Archie, then, moving quickly forward, he grasped his hand in aniron grip. 

"This is the best news I've ever had!" he mumbled. 

"Awfully good of you to take it like this, " said Archie cordially. "Imean, being a grandfather--"

Mr. Brewster smiled. Of a man of his appearance one could hardly saythat he smiled playfully; but there was something in his expression thatremotely suggested playfulness. 

"My dear old bean, " he said. 

Archie started. 

"My dear old bean, " repeated Mr. Brewster firmly, "I'm the happiest manin America!" His eye fell on the picture which lay on the floor. He gavea slight shudder, but recovered himself immediately. "After this, " hesaid, "I can reconcile myself to living with that thing for the rest ofmy life. I feel it doesn't matter. "

"I say, " said Archie, "how about that? Wouldn't have brought the thingup if you hadn't introduced the topic, but, speaking as man to man, whatthe dickens WERE you up to when I landed on your spine just now?"

"I suppose you thought I had gone off my head?"

"Well, I'm bound to say--"

Mr. Brewster cast an unfriendly glance at the picture. 

"Well, I had every excuse, after living with that infernal thing for aweek!"

Archie looked at him, astonished. 

"I say, old thing, I don't know if I have got your meaning exactly, butyou somehow give me the impression that you don't like that jolly oldwork of Art. "

"Like it!" cried Mr. Brewster. "It's nearly driven me mad! Every timeit caught my eye, it gave me a pain in the neck. To-night I felt as if Icouldn't stand it any longer. I didn't want to hurt Lucille's feelings, by telling her, so I made up my mind I would cut the damned thing out ofits frame and tell her it had been stolen. "

"What an extraordinary thing! Why, that's exactly what old Wheeler did. "

"Who is old Wheeler?"

"Artist chappie. Pal of mine. His fiancee painted the thing, and, whenI lifted it off him, he told her it had been stolen. HE didn't seemfrightfully keen on it, either. "

"Your friend Wheeler has evidently good taste. "

Archie was thinking. 

"Well, all this rather gets past me, " he said. "Personally, I've alwaysadmired the thing. Dashed ripe bit of work, I've always considered. Still, of course, if you feel that way--"

"You may take it from me that I do!"

"Well, then, in that case--You know what a clumsy devil I am--You cantell Lucille it was all my fault--"

The Wigmore Venus smiled up at Archie--it seemed to Archie with apathetic, pleading smile. For a moment he was conscious of a feeling ofguilt; then, closing his eyes and hardening his heart, he sprang lightlyin the air and descended with both feet on the picture. There was asound of rending canvas, and the Venus ceased to smile. 

"Golly!" said Archie, regarding the wreckage remorsefully. 

Mr. Brewster did not share his remorse. For the second time that nighthe gripped him by the hand. 

"My boy!" he quavered. He stared at Archie as if he were seeing him withnew eyes. "My dear boy, you were through the war, were you not?"

"Eh? Oh yes! Right through the jolly old war. "

"What was your rank?"

"Oh, second lieutenant. "

"You ought to have been a general!" Mr. Brewster clasped his hand oncemore in a vigorous embrace. "I only hope, " he added "that your son willbe like you!"

There are certain compliments, or compliments coming from certainsources, before which modesty reels, stunned. Archie's did. 

He swallowed convulsively. He had never thought to hear these words fromDaniel Brewster. 

"How would it be, old thing, " he said almost brokenly, "if you and Itrickled down to the bar and had a spot of sherbet?"

THE END