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diff --git a/old/56077-8.txt b/old/56077-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2fa5947..0000000 --- a/old/56077-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9734 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Insurance, by Earl Derr Biggers - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Love Insurance - -Author: Earl Derr Biggers - -Release Date: November 29, 2017 [EBook #56077] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE INSURANCE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines - - - - - - - - - LOVE INSURANCE - - _By_ - - EARL DERR BIGGERS - - - _Author of_ - Seven Keys to Baldpate - - - - INDIANAPOLIS - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - Copyright 1914 - The Bobbs-Merrill Company - - - - PRESS OF - BRAUNWORTH & CO., - BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS - BROOKLYN, N.Y. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - I A Sporting Proposition - II An Evening in the River - III Journeys End in--Taxi Bills - IV Mr. Trimmer Limbers Up - V Mr. Trimmer Throws His Bomb - VI Ten Minutes of Agony - VII Chain Lightning's Collar - VIII After the Trained Seals - IX "Wanted! Board and Room" - X Two Birds of Passage - XI Tears From the Gaiety - XII Exit a Lady, Laughingly - XIII "And On the Ships at Sea" - XIV Jersey City Interferes - XV A Bit of a Blow - XVI Who's Who in England - XVII The Shortest Way Home - XVIII "A Rotten Bad Fit" - XIX Mr. Minot Goes Through Fire - XX "Please Kill" - XXI High Words at High Noon - XXII "Well, Hardly Ever--" - - - - -LOVE INSURANCE - - - -CHAPTER I - -A SPORTING PROPOSITION - -Outside a gilt-lettered door on the seventeenth floor of a New York -office building, a tall young man in a fur-lined coat stood shivering. - -Why did he shiver in that coat? He shivered because he was fussed, -poor chap. Because he was rattled, from the soles of his custom-made -boots to the apex of his Piccadilly hat. A painful, palpitating -spectacle, he stood. - -Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, the business of the American -branch of that famous marine insurance firm, Lloyds, of London--usually -termed in magazine articles "The Greatest Gambling Institution in the -World"--went on oblivious to the shiverer who approached. - -The shiverer, with a nervous movement shifted his walking-stick to his -left hand, and laid his right on the door-knob. Though he is not at -his best, let us take a look at him. Tall, as has been noted, -perfectly garbed after London's taste, mild and blue as to eye, blond -as to hair. A handsome, if somewhat weak face. Very -distinguished--even aristocratic--in appearance. Perhaps--the thrill -for us democrats here!--of the nobility. And at this moment sadly in -need of a generous dose of that courage that abounds--see any book of -familiar quotations--on the playing fields of Eton. - -Utterly destitute of the Eton or any other brand, he pushed open the -door. The click of two dozen American typewriters smote upon his -hearing. An office boy of the dominant New York race demanded in loud -indiscreet tones his business there. - -"My business," said the tall young man weakly, "is with Lloyds, of -London." - -The boy wandered off down that stenographer-bordered lane. In a moment -he was back. - -"Mr. Thacker'll see you," he announced. - -He followed the boy, did the tall young man. His courage began to -return. Why not? One of his ancestors, graduate of those playing -fields, had fought at Waterloo. - -Mr. Thacker sat in plump and genial prosperity before a polished -flat-top desk. Opposite him, at a desk equally polished, sat an even -more polished young American of capable bearing. For an embarrassed -moment the tall youth in fur stood looking from one to the other. Then -Mr. Thacker spoke: - -"You have business with Lloyds?" - -The tall young man blushed. - -"I--I hope to have--yes." There was in his speech that faint -suggestion of a lisp that marks many of the well-born of his race. -Perhaps it is the golden spoon in their mouths interfering a bit with -their diction. - -"What can we do for you?" Mr. Thacker was cold and matter-of-fact, -like a card index. Steadily through each week he grew more -businesslike--and this was Saturday morning. - -The visitor performed a shaky but remarkable juggling feat with his -walking-stick. - -"I--well--I--" he stammered. - -Oh, come, come, thought Mr. Thacker impatiently. - -"Well," said the tall young man desperately "perhaps it would be best -for me to make myself known at once. I am Allan, Lord Harrowby, son -and heir of James Nelson Harrowby, Earl of Raybrook. And I--I have -come here--" - -The younger of the Americans spoke, in more kindly fashion: - -"You have a proposition to make to Lloyds?" - -"Exactly," said Lord Harrowby, and sank with a sigh of relief into a -chair, as though that concluded his portion of the entertainment. - -"Let's hear it," boomed the relentless Thacker. - -Lord Harrowby writhed in his chair. - -"I am sure you will pardon me," he said, "if I preface -my--er--proposition with the statement that it is utterly--fantastic. -And if I add also that it should be known to the fewest possible -number." - -Mr. Thacker waved his hand across the gleaming surfaces of two desks. - -"This is my assistant manager, Mr. Richard Minot," he announced. "Mr. -Minot, you must know, is in on all the secrets of the firm. Now, let's -have it." - -"I am right, am I not," his lordship continued, "in the assumption that -Lloyds frequently takes rather unusual risks?" - -"Lloyds," answered Mr. Thacker, "is chiefly concerned with the fortunes -of those who go down to--and sometimes down into--the sea in ships. -However, there are a number of non-marine underwriters connected with -Lloyds, and these men have been known to risk their money on pretty -giddy chances. It's all done in the name of Lloyds, though the firm is -not financially responsible." - -Lord Harrowby got quickly to his feet - -"Then it would be better," he said, relieved, "for me to take my -proposition to one of these non-marine underwriters." - -Mr. Thacker frowned. Curiosity agitated his bosom. - -"You'd have to go to London to do that," he remarked. "Better give us -an inkling of what's on your mind." - -His lordship tapped uneasily at the base of Mr. Thacker's desk with his -stick. - -"If you will pardon me--I'd rather not," he said. - -"Oh, very well," sighed Mr. Thacker. - -"How about Owen Jephson?" asked Mr. Minot suddenly. - -Overjoyed, Mr. Thacker started up. - -"By gad--I forgot about Jephson. Sails at one o'clock, doesn't he?" -He turned to Lord Harrowby. "The very man--and in New York, too. -Jephson would insure T. Roosevelt against another cup of coffee." - -"Am I to understand," asked Harrowby, "that Jephson is the man for me -to see?" - -"Exactly," beamed Mr. Thacker. "I'll have him here in fifteen minutes. -Richard, will you please call up his hotel?" And as Mr. Minot reached -for the telephone, Mr. Thacker added pleadingly: "Of course, I don't -know the nature of your proposition--" - -"No," agreed Lord Harrowby politely. - -Discouraged, Mr. Thacker gave up. - -"However, Jephson seems to have a gambling streak in him that odd risks -appeal to," he went on. "Of course, he's scientific. All Lloyds' -risks are scientifically investigated. But--occasionally--well, -Jephson insured Sir Christopher Conway, K.C.B., against the arrival of -twins in his family. Perhaps you recall the litigation that resulted -when triplets put in their appearance?" - -"I'm sorry to say I do not," said Lord Harrowby. - -Mr. Minot set down the telephone. "Owen Jephson is on his way here in -a taxi," he announced. - -"Good old Jephson," mused Mr. Thacker, reminiscent. "Why, some of the -man's risks are famous. Take that shopkeeper in the Strand--every day -at noon the shadow of Nelson's Monument in Trafalgar Square falls -across his door. Twenty years ago he got to worrying for fear the -statue would fall some day and smash his shop. And every year since he -has taken out a policy with Jephson, insuring him against that dreadful -contingency." - -"I seem to have heard of that," admitted Harrowby, with the ghost of a -smile. - -"You must have. Only recently Jephson wrote a policy for the Dowager -Duchess of Tremayne, insuring her against the unhappy event of a -rainstorm spoiling the garden party she is shortly to give at her -Italian villa. I understand a small fortune is involved. Then there -is Courtney Giles, leading man at the West End Road Theater. He fears -obesity. Jephson has insured him. Should he become too plump for -Romeo roles, Lloyds--or rather Jephson--will owe him a large sum of -money." - -"I am encouraged to hope," remarked Lord Harrowby, "that Mr. Jephson -will listen to my proposition." - -"No doubt he will," replied Mr. Thacker. "I can't say definitely. -Now, if I knew the nature--" - -But when Mr. Jephson walked into the office fifteen minutes later Mr. -Thacker was still lamentably ignorant of the nature of his titled -visitor's business. Mr. Jephson was a small wiry man, crowned by a -vast acreage of bald head, and with the immobile countenance sometimes -lovingly known as a "poker face." One felt he could watch the rain -pour in torrents on the dowager duchess, Courtney Giles' waist expand -visibly before his eyes, the statue of Nelson totter and fall on his -shopkeeper, and never move a muscle of that face. - -"I am delighted to meet your lordship," said he to Harrowby. "Knew -your father, the earl, very well at one time. Had business dealings -with him--often. A man after my own heart. Always ready to take a -risk. I trust you left him well?" - -"Quite, thank you," Lord Harrowby answered. "Although he will insist -on playing polo. At his age--eighty-two--it is a dangerous sport." - -Mr. Jephson smiled. - -"Still taking chances," he said. "A splendid old gentleman. I -understand that you, Lord Harrowby, have a proposition to make to me as -an underwriter in Lloyds." - -They sat down. Alas, if Mr. Burke, who compiled the well-known -_Peerage_, could have seen Lord Harrowby then, what distress would have -been his! For a most unlordly flush again mantled that British cheek. -A nobleman was supremely rattled. - -"I will try and explain," said his lordship, gulping a plebeian gulp. -"My affairs have been for some time in rather a chaotic state. -Idleness--the life of the town--you gentlemen will understand. -Naturally, it has been suggested to me that I exchange my name and -title for the millions of some American heiress. I have always -violently objected to any such plan. I--I couldn't quite bring myself -to do any such low trick as that. And then--a few months ago on the -Continent--I met a girl--" - -He paused. - -"I'm not a clever chap--really," he went on. "I'm afraid I can not -describe her to you. Spirited--charming--" He looked toward the -youngest of the trio. "You, at least, understand," he finished. - -Mr. Minot leaned back in his chair and smiled a most engaging smile. - -"Perfectly," he said. - -"Thank you," went on Lord Harrowby in all seriousness. "It was only -incidental--quite irrelevant--that this young woman happened to be very -wealthy. I fell desperately in love! I am still in that--er--pleasing -state. The young lady's name, gentlemen, is Cynthia Meyrick. She is -the daughter of Spencer Meyrick, whose fortune has, I believe, been -accumulated in oil." - -Mr. Thacker's eyebrows rose respectfully. - -"A week from next Tuesday," said Lord Harrowby solemnly, "at San Marco, -on the east coast of Florida, this young woman and I are to be married." - -"And what," asked Owen Jephson, "is your proposition?" - -Lord Harrowby shifted nervously in his chair. - -"I say we are to be married," he continued. "But are we? That is the -nightmare that haunts me. A slip. My--er--creditors coming down on -me. And far more important, the dreadful agony of losing the dearest -woman in the world." - -"What could happen?" Mr. Jephson wanted to know. - -"Did I say the young woman was vivacious?" inquired Lord Harrowby. -"She is. A thousand girls in one. Some untoward happening, and she -might change her mind--in a flash." - -Silence within the room; outside the roar of New York and the clatter -of the inevitable riveting machine making its points relentlessly. - -"That," said Lord Harrowby slowly, "is what I wish you to insure me -against, Mr. Jephson." - -"You mean--" - -"I mean the awful possibility of Miss Cynthia Meyrick's changing her -mind." - -Again silence, save for the riveting machine outside. And three men -looking unbelievingly at one another. - -"Of course," his lordship went on hastily, "it is understood that I -personally am very eager for this wedding to take place. It is -understood that in the interval before the ceremony I shall do all in -my power to keep Miss Meyrick to her present intention. Should the -marriage be abandoned because of any act of mine, I would be ready to -forfeit all claims on Lloyds." - -Mr. Thacker recovered his breath and his voice at one and the same time. - -"Preposterous," he snorted. "Begging your lordship's pardon, you can -not expect hard-headed business men to listen seriously to any such -proposition as that. Tushery, sir, tushery! Speaking as the American -representative of Lloyds--" - -"One moment," interrupted Mr. Jephson. In his eyes shone a queer -light--a light such as one might expect to find in the eyes of Peter -Pan, the boy who never grew up. "One moment, please. What sum had you -in mind, Lord Harrowby?" - -"Well--say one hundred thousand pounds," suggested his lordship. "I -realize that my proposition is fantastic. I really admitted as much. -But--" - -"One hundred thousand pounds." Mr. Jephson repeated it thoughtfully. -"I should have to charge your lordship a rather high rate. As high as -ten per cent." - -Lord Harrowby seemed to be in the throes of mental arithmetic. - -"I am afraid," he said finally, "I could not afford one hundred -thousand at that rate. But I could afford--seventy-five thousand. -Would that be satisfactory, Mr. Jephson?" - -"Jephson," cried Mr. Thacker wildly. "Are you mad? Do you realize--" - -"I realize everything, Thacker," said Jephson calmly. "I have your -lordship's word that the young lady is at present determined on this -alliance? And that you will do all in your power to keep her to her -intention?" - -"You have my word," said Lord Harrowby. "If you should care to -telegraph--" - -"Your word is sufficient," said Jephson. "Mr. Minot, will you be kind -enough to bring me a policy blank?" - -"See here, Jephson," foamed Thacker. "What if this thing should get -into the newspapers? We'd be the laughing-stock of the business world." - -"It mustn't," said Jephson coolly. - -"It might," roared Thacker. - -Mr. Minot arrived with a blank policy, and Mr. Jephson sat down at the -young man's desk. - -"One minute," said Thacker. "The faith of you two gentlemen in each -other is touching, but I take it the millennium is still a few years -off." He drew toward him a blank sheet of paper, and wrote. "I want -this thing done in a businesslike way, if it's to be done in my -office." He handed the sheet of paper to Lord Harrowby. "Will you -read that, please?" he said. - -"Certainly." His lordship read: "I hereby agree that in the interval -until my wedding with Miss Cynthia Meyrick next Tuesday week I will do -all in my power to put through the match, and that should the wedding -be called off through any subsequent direct act of mine, I will forfeit -all claims on Lloyds." - -"Will you sign that, please?" requested Mr. Thacker. - -"With pleasure." His lordship reached for a pen. - -"You and I, Richard," said Mr. Thacker, "will sign as witnesses. Now, -Jephson, go ahead with your fool policy." - -Mr. Jephson looked up thoughtfully. - -"Shall I say, your lordship," he asked, "that if, two weeks from to-day -the wedding has not taken place, and has absolutely no prospect of -taking place, I owe you seventy-five thousand pounds?" - -"Yes." His lordship nodded. "Provided, of course, I have not -forfeited by reason of this agreement. I shall write you a check, Mr. -Jephson." - -For a time there was no sound in the room save the scratching of two -pens, while Mr. Thacker gazed open-mouthed at Mr. Minot, and Mr. Minot -light-heartedly smiled back. Then Mr. Jephson reached for a blotter. - -"I shall attend to the London end of this when I reach there five days -hence," he said. "Perhaps I can find another underwriter to share the -risk with me." - -The transaction was completed, and his lordship rose to go. - -"I am at the Plaza," he said, "if any difficulty should arise. But I -sail to-night for San Marco--on the yacht of a friend." He crossed -over and took Mr. Jephson's hand. "I can only hope, with all my -heart," he finished feelingly, "that you never have to pay this policy." - -"We're with your lordship there," said Mr. Thacker sharply. - -"Ah--you have been very kind," replied Lord Harrowby. "I wish you -all--good day." - -And shivering no longer, he went away in his fine fur coat. - -As the door closed upon the nobleman, Mr. Thacker turned explosively on -his friend from oversea. - -"Jephson," he thundered, "you're an idiot! A rank unmitigated idiot!" - -The Peter Pan light was bright in Jephson's eyes. - -"So new," he half-whispered. "So original! Bless the boy's heart. -I've been waiting forty years for a proposition like that." - -"Do you realize," Thacker cried, "that seventy-five thousand pounds of -your good money depends on the honor of Lord Harrowby?" - -"I do," returned Jephson. "And I would not be concerned if it were ten -times that sum. I know the breed. Why, once--and you, Thacker, would -have called me an idiot on that occasion, too--I insured his father -against the loss of a polo game by a team on which the earl was -playing. And he played like the devil--the earl did--won the game -himself. Ah, I know the breed." - -"Oh, well," sighed Thacker, "I won't argue. But one thing is certain, -Jephson. You can't go back to England now. Your place is in San Marco -with one hand on the rope that rings the wedding bells." - -Jephson shook his great bald head. - -"No," he said. "I must return to-day. It is absolutely necessary. My -interests in San Marco are in the hands of Providence." - -Mr. Thacker walked the floor wildly. - -"Providence needs help in handling a woman," he protested. "Miss -Meyrick must not change her mind. Some one must see that she doesn't. -If you can't go yourself--" He paused, reflecting. "Some young man, -active, capable--" - -Mr. Richard Minot had risen from his chair, and was moving softly -toward his overcoat. Looking over his shoulder, he beheld Mr. -Thacker's keen eyes upon him. - -"Just going out to lunch," he said guiltily. - -"Sit down, Richard," remarked Mr. Thacker with decision. - -Mr. Minot sat, the dread of something impending in his heart. - -"Jephson," said Mr. Thacker, "this boy here is the son of a man of whom -I was very fond. His father left him the means to squander his life on -clubs and cocktails if he had chosen--but he picked out a business -career instead. Five years ago I took him into this office, and he has -repaid me by faithful, even brilliant service. I would trust him -with--well, I'd trust him as far as you'd trust a member of your own -peerage." - -"Yes?" said Mr. Jephson. - -Mr. Thacker wheeled dramatically and faced his young assistant. - -"Richard," he ordered, "go to San Marco. Go to San Marco and see to it -that Miss Cynthia Meyrick does not change her mind." - -A gone feeling shot through Mr. Minot in the vicinity of his stomach. -It was possible that he really needed that lunch. - -"Yes, sir," he said faintly. "Of course, it's up to me to do anything -you say. If you insist, I'll go, but--" - -"But what, Richard?" - -"Isn't it a rather big order? Women--aren't they like an--er--April -afternoon--or something of that sort? It seems to me I've read they -were--in books." - -"Humph," snorted Mr. Thacker. "Is your knowledge of the ways of women -confined to books?" - -A close observer might have noted the ghost of a smile in Mr. Minot's -clear blue eyes. - -"In part, it is," he admitted. "And then again--in part, it isn't." - -"Well, put away your books, my boy," said Mr. Thacker. "A nice, -instructive little vacation has fallen on you from heaven. Mad old -Jephson here must be saved from himself. That wedding must take -place--positively, rain or shine. I trust you to see that it does, -Richard." - -Mr. Minot rose and stepped over to his hat and coat. - -"I'm off for San Marco," he announced blithely. His lips were firm but -smiling. "The land of sunshine and flowers--and orange blossoms or I -know the reason why." - -"Jephson trusts Harrowby," said Mr. Thacker. "All very well. But just -the same if I were you I'd be aboard that yacht to-night when it leaves -New York harbor. Invited or uninvited." - -"I must ask," put in Mr. Jephson hurriedly, "that you do nothing to -embarrass Lord Harrowby in any way." - -"No," said Thacker. "But keep an eye on him, my boy. A keen and busy -eye." - -"I will," agreed Mr. Minot. "Do I look like Cupid, gentlemen? No? -Ah--it's the overcoat. Well, I'll get rid of that in Florida. I'll -say good-by--" - -He shook hands with Jephson and with Thacker. - -"Good-by, Richard," said the latter. "I'm really fond of old Jephson -here. He's been my friend in need--he mustn't lose. I trust you, my -boy." - -"I won't disappoint you," Dick Minot promised. A look of seriousness -flashed across his face. "Miss Cynthia Meyrick changes her mind only -over my dead body." - -He paused for a second at the door, and his eyes grew suddenly -thoughtful. - -"I wonder what she's like?" he murmured. - -Then, with a smile toward the two men left behind, he went out and down -that stenographer-bordered land to San Marco. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -AN EVENING IN THE RIVER - -Though San Marco is a particularly gaudy tassel on the fringe of the -tourist's South, it was to the north that Mr. Richard Minot first -turned. One hour later he made his appearance amid the gold braid and -dignity of the Plaza lobby. - -The young man behind the desk--an exquisite creature done in Charles -Dana Gibson's best manner--knew when to be affable. He also knew when -not to be affable. Upon Mr. Minot he turned the cold fishy stare he -kept for such as were not guests under his charge. - -"What is your business with Lord Harrowby?" he inquired suspiciously. - -"Since when," asked Mr. Minot brightly, "have you been in his -lordship's confidence?" - -This was the young man's cue to wince. But hotel clerks are -notoriously poor wincers. - -"It is customary--" he began with perfect poise. - -"I know," said Mr. Minot. "But then, I'm a sort of a friend of his -lordship." - -"A sort of a friend?" How well he lifted his eyebrows! - -"Something like that. I believe I'm to be best man at his wedding." - -Ah, yes; that splendid young man knew when to be affable. Affability -swamped him now. - -"Boy!" he cried. "Take this gentleman's card to Lord Harrowby." - -A bell-boy in a Zenda uniform accepted the card, laid it upon a silver -tray, glued it down with a large New York thumb, and strayed off down -gilded corridors shouting, "Lord Harrowby." - -Whereat all the pretty little debutantes who happened to be decorating -the scene at the moment felt their pampered hearts go pit-a-pat and, -closing their eyes, saw visions and dreamed dreams. - -Lord Harrowby was at luncheon, and sent word for Mr. Minot to join him. -Entering the gay dining-room, Minot saw at the far end the blond and -noble head he sought. He threaded his way between the tables. -Although he was an unusually attractive young man, he had never -experienced anything like the array of stares turned upon him ere he -had gone ten feet. "What the devil's the matter?" he asked himself. -"I seem to be the cynosure of neighboring eyes, and then some." He did -not dream that it was because he was passing through a dining-room of -democrats to grasp the hand of a lord. - -"My dear fellow, I'm delighted, I assure you--" Really, Lord -Harrowby's face should have paid closer attention to his words. Just -now it failed ignominiously in the matter of backing them up. - -"Thank you," Mr. Minot replied. "Your lordship is no doubt surprised -at seeing me so soon--" - -"Well--er--not at all. Shall I order luncheon?" - -"No, thanks. I had a bite on the way up." And Mr. Minot dropped into -the chair which an eager waiter held ready. "Lord Harrowby, I trust -you are not going to be annoyed by what I have to tell you." - -His lordship's face clouded, and worry entered the mild blue eyes. - -"I hope there's nothing wrong about the policy." - -"Nothing whatever. Lord Harrowby, Mr. Jephson trusts you--implicitly." - -"So I perceived this morning. I was deeply touched." - -"It was--er--touching." Minot smiled a bit cynically. "Understanding -as you do how Mr. Jephson feels toward you, you will realize that it is -in no sense a reflection on you that our office, viewing this matter in -a purely business light, has decided that some one must go to San Marco -with you. Some one who will protect Mr. Jephson's interests." - -"Your office," said his lordship, reflecting. "You mean Mr. Thacker, -don't you?" - -Could it be that the fellow was not so slow as he seemed? - -"Mr. Thacker is the head of our office," smiled Mr. Minot. "It has -been thought best that some one go with you, Lord Harrowby. Some one -who will work night and day to see to it that Miss Meyrick does not -change her mind. I--I am the some one. I hope you are not annoyed." - -"My dear chap! Not in the least. When I said this morning that I was -quite set on this marriage, I was frightfully sincere." And now his -lordship's face, frank and boyish, in nowise belied his words. "I -shall be deeply grateful for any aid Lloyds can give me. And I am -already grateful that Lloyds has selected you to be my ally." - -Really, very decent of him. Dick Minot bowed. - -"You go south to-night?" he ventured. - -"Yes. On the yacht _Lileth_, belonging to my friend, Mr. Martin Wall. -You have heard of him?" - -"No. I can't say that I have." - -"Indeed! I understood he was very well-known here. A big, bluff, -hearty chap. We met on the steamer coming over and became very good -friends." - -A pause. - -"You will enjoy meeting Mr. Wall," said his lordship meaningly, "when I -introduce you to him--in San Marco." - -"Lord Harrowby," said Minot slowly, "my instructions are to go south -with you--on the yacht." - -For a moment the two men stared into each other's eyes. Then Lord -Harrowby pursed his thin lips and gazed out at Fifth Avenue, gay and -colorful in the February sun. - -"How extremely unfortunate," he drawled. "It is not my boat, Mr. -Minot. If it were, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to -extend an invitation to you." - -"I understand," said Minot. "But I am to go--invited or uninvited." - -"In my interests?" asked Harrowby sarcastically. - -"As the personal conductor of the bride-groom." - -"Mr. Minot--really--" - -"I have no wish to be rude, Lord Harrowby. But it is our turn to be a -little fantastic now. Could any thing be more fantastic than boarding -a yacht uninvited?" - -"But Miss Meyrick--on whom, after all, Mr. Jephson's fate depends--is -already in Florida." - -"With her lamp trimmed and burning. How sad, your lordship, if some -untoward event should interfere with the coming of the bridegroom." - -"I perceive," smiled Lord Harrowby, "that you do not share Mr. -Jephson's confidence in my motives." - -"This is New York, and a business proposition. Every man in New York -is considered guilty until he proves himself innocent--and then we move -for a new trial." - -"Nevertheless"--Lord Harrowby's mouth hardened--"I must refuse to ask -you to join me on the _Lileth_." - -"Would you mind telling me where the boat is anchored?" - -"Somewhere in the North River, I believe. I don't know, really." - -"You don't know? Won't it be a bit difficult--boarding a yacht when -you don't know where to find it?" - -"My dear chap--" began Harrowby angrily. - -"No matter." Mr. Minot stood up. "I'll say au revoir, Lord -Harrowby--until to-night." - -"Or until we meet in San Marco." Lord Harrowby regained his good -nature. "I'm extremely sorry to be so impolite. But I believe we're -going to be very good friends, none the less." - -"We're going to be very close to each other, at any rate," Minot -smiled. "Once more--au revoir, your lordship." - -"Pardon me--good-by," answered Lord Harrowby with decision. - -And Richard Minot was again threading his way between awed tables. - -Walking slowly down Fifth Avenue, Mr. Minot was forced to admit that he -had not made a very auspicious beginning in his new role. Why had Lord -Harrowby refused so determinedly to invite him aboard the yacht that -was to bear the eager bridegroom south? And what was he to do now? -Might he not discover where the yacht lay, board it at dusk, and -conceal himself in a vacant cabin until the party was well under way? -It sounded fairly simple. - -But it proved otherwise. He was balked from the outset. For two -hours, in the library of his club, in telephone booths and elsewhere, -he sought for some tangible evidence of the existence of a wealthy -American named Martin Wall and a yacht called the _Lileth_. City -directories and yacht club year books alike were silent. Myth, myth, -myth, ran through Dick Minot's mind. - -Was Lord Harrowby--as they say at the Gaiety--spoofing him? He mounted -to the top of a bus, and was churned up Riverside Drive. Along the -banks of the river lay dozens of yachts, dismantled, swathed in winter -coverings. Among the few that appeared ready to sail his keen eye -discerned no _Lileth_. - -Somewhat discouraged, he returned to his club and startled a waiter by -demanding dinner at four-thirty in the afternoon. Going then to his -rooms, he exchanged his overcoat for a sweater, his hat for a golf cap. -At five-thirty, a spy for the first time in his eventful young life, he -stood opposite the main entrance of the Plaza. Near by ticked a taxi, -engaged for the evening. - -An hour passed. Lights, laughter, limousines, the cold moon adding its -brilliance to that already brilliant square, the winter wind sighing -through the bare trees of the park--New York seemed a city of dreams. -Suddenly the chauffeur of Minot's taxi stood uneasily before him. - -"Say, you ain't going to shoot anybody, are you?" he asked. - -"Oh, no--you needn't be afraid of that." - -"I ain't afraid. I just thought I'd take off my license number if you -was." - -Ah, yes--New York! City of beautiful dreams! - -Another hour slipped by. And only the little taxi meter was busy, -winking mechanically at the unresponsive moon. - -At eight-fifteen a tall blond man, in a very expensive fur coat which -impressed even the cab starter, came down the steps of the hotel. He -ordered a limousine and was whirled away to the west. At eight-fifteen -and a half Mr. Minot followed. - -Lord Harrowby's car proceeded to the drive and, turning, sped north -between the moonlit river and the manlit apartment-houses. In the -neighborhood of One Hundred and Tenth Street it came to a stop, and as -Minot's car passed slowly by, he saw his lordship standing in the -moonlight paying his chauffeur. Hastily dismissing his own car, he ran -back in time to see Lord Harrowby disappear down one of the stone -stairways into the gloom of the park that skirts the Hudson. He -followed. - -On and on down the steps and bare wind-swept paths he hurried, until -finally the river, cold, silvery, serene, lay before him. Some thirty -yards from shore he beheld the lights of a yacht flashing against the -gloomy background of Jersey. The _Lileth_! - -He watched Lord Harrowby cross the railroad tracks to a small landing, -and leap from that into a boat in charge of a solitary rower. Then he -heard the soft swish of oars, and watched the boat draw away from -shore. He stood there in the shadow until he had seen his lordship run -up the accommodation ladder to the _Lileth's_ deck. - -He, too, must reach the _Lileth_, and at once. But how? He glanced -quickly up and down the bank. A small boat was tethered near by--he -ran to it, but a chain and padlock held it firmly. He must hurry. -Aboard the yacht, dancing impatiently on the bosom of Hendrick Hudson's -important discovery, he recognized the preparations for an early -departure. - -Minot stood for a moment looking at the wide wet river. It was -February, yes, but February of the mildest winter New York had -experienced in years. At the seashore he had always dashed boldly in -while others stood on the sands and shivered. He dashed in now. - -The water was cold, shockingly cold. He struck out swiftly for the -yacht. Fortunately the accommodation ladder had not yet been taken up; -in another moment he was clinging, a limp and dripping spectacle, to -the rail of the _Lileth_. - -Happily that side of the deck was just then deserted. A row of outside -cabin doors in the bow met Minot's eye. Stealthily he swished toward -them. - -And, in the last analysis, the only thing between him and them proved -to be a large commanding gentleman, whose silhouette was particularly -militant and whose whole bearing was unfavorable. - -"Mr. Wall, I presume," said Minot through noisy teeth. - -"Correct," said the gentleman. His voice was sharp, unfriendly. But -the moonlight, falling on his face, revealed it as soft, genial, -pudgy--the inviting sort of countenance to which, under the melting -influence of Scotch and soda, one feels like relating the sad story of -one's wasted life. - -Though soaked and quaking, Mr. Minot aimed at nonchalance. - -"Well," he said, "you might be good enough to tell Lord Harrowby that -I've arrived." - -"Who are you? What do you want?" - -"I'm a friend of his lordship. He'll be delighted, I'm sure. Just -tell him, if you'll be so kind." - -"Did he invite you aboard?" - -"Not exactly. But he'll be glad to see me. Especially if you mention -just one word to him." - -"What word?" - -Mr. Minot leaned airily against the rail. - -"Lloyds," he said - -An expression of mingled rage and dismay came into the pudgy face. It -purpled in the moonlight. Its huge owner came threateningly toward the -dripping Minot. - -"Back into the river for yours," he said savagely. - -Almost lovingly--so it might have seemed to the casual observer--he -wound his thick arms about the dripping Minot. Up and down the deck -they turkey-trotted. - -"Over the rail and into the river," breathed Mr. Wall on Minot's damp -neck. - -Two large and capable sailormen came at sound of the struggle. - -"Here, boys," Wall shouted. "Help me toss this guy over." - -Willing hands seized Minot at opposite poles. - -"One--two--" counted the sailormen. - -"Well, good night, Mr. Wall," remarked Minot. - -"Three!" - -A splash, and he was ingloriously in the cold river again. He turned -to the accommodation ladder, but quick hands drew it up. Evidently -there was nothing to do but return once more to little old New York. - -He rested for a moment, treading water, seeing dimly the tall homes of -the cave dwellers, and over them the yellow glare of Broadway. Then he -struck out. When he reached the shore, and turned, the _Lileth_ was -already under way, moving slowly down the silver path of the moon. An -old man was launching the padlocked rowboat. - -"Great night for a swim," he remarked sarcastically. - -"L-lovely," chattered Minot. "Say, do you know anything about the -yacht that's just steamed out?" - -"Not as much as I'd like ter. Used ter belong to a man in Chicago. -Yesterday the caretaker told me she'd been rented fer the winter. Seen -him to-night in a gin mill with money to throw to the birds. Looks -funny to me." - -"Thanks." - -"Man came this afternoon and painted out her old name. Changed it t' -_Lileth_. Mighty suspicious." - -"What was the old name?" - -"The _Lady Evelyn_. If I was you, I'd get outside a drink, and quick. -Good night." - -As Minot dashed up the bank, he heard the swish of the old man's oars -behind. He ran all the way to his rooms, and after a hot bath and the -liquid refreshment suggested by the waterman, called Mr. Thacker on the -telephone. - -"Well, Richard?" that gentleman inquired. - -"Sad news. Little Cupid's had a set-back. Tossed into the Hudson when -he tried to board the yacht that is taking Lord Harrowby south." - -"No? Is that so?" Mr. Thacker's tone was contemplative. "Well, -Richard, the Palm Beach Special leaves at midnight. Better be on it. -Better go down and help the bride with her trousseau." - -"Yes, sir. I'll do that. And I'll see to it that she has her lamp -trimmed and burning. Considering that her father's in the oil -business, that ought not to be--" - -"I can't hear you, Richard. What are you saying?" - -"Nothing--er--Mr. Thacker. Look up a yacht called the _Lady Evelyn_. -Chicago man, I think--find out if he's rented it, and to whom. It's -the boat Harrowby went south on." - -"All right, Richard. Good-by, my boy. Write me whenever you need -money." - -"Perhaps I can't write as often as that. But I'll send you bulletins -from time to time." - -"I depend on you, Richard. Jephson must not lose." - -"Leave it to me. The Palm Beach Special at midnight. And after -that--Miss Cynthia Meyrick!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -JOURNEYS END IN--TAXI BILLS - -No matter how swiftly your train has sped through the Carolinas and -Georgia, when it crosses the line into Florida a wasting languor -overtakes it. Then it hesitates, sighs and creeps across the fiat -yellow landscape like an aged alligator. Now and again it stops -completely in the midst of nothing, as who should say: "You came down -to see the South, didn't you? Well, look about you." - -The Palm Beach Special on which Mr. Minot rode was no exception to this -rule. It entered Florida and a state of innocuous desuetude at one and -the same time. After a tremendous struggle, it gasped its way into -Jacksonville about nine o'clock of the Monday morning following. -Reluctant as Romeo in his famous exit from Juliet's boudoir, it got out -of Jacksonville an hour later. And San Marco was just two hours away, -according to that excellent book of light fiction so widely read in the -South--the time-table. - -It seemed to Dick Minot that he had been looking out of a car window -for a couple of eternities. Save for the diversion at Jacksonville, -nothing had happened to brighten that long and wearisome journey. He -wanted, now, to glance across the car aisle toward the diversion at -Jacksonville. Yet it hardly seemed polite--so soon. Wherefore he -continued to gaze out at the monotonous landscape. - -For half a mile the train served its masters. Then, with a pathetic -groan, it paused. Still Mr. Minot gazed out the window. He gazed so -long that he saw a family of razor-backs, passed a quarter of a mile -back, catch up with the train and trot scornfully by. After that he -kept his eyes on the live oaks and evergreens, to whose topmost -branches hung gray moss like whiskers on a western senator. - -Then he could stand it no longer. He turned and looked upon the -diversion at Jacksonville. Gentlemen of the jury--she was beautiful. -The custodian of a library of books on sociology could have seen that -with half an astigmatic eye. Her copper-colored hair flashed -alluringly in that sunny car; the curve of her cheek would have created -a sensation in the neighborhood where burning Sappho loved and sang. -Dick Minot's heart beat faster, repeating the performance it had staged -when she boarded the train at Jacksonville. - -Beautiful, yes--but she fidgeted. She had fidgeted madly in the -station at Jacksonville during that hour's wait; now even more madly -she bounced about on that plush seat. She opened and shut magazines, -she straightened her pleasant little hat, she gazed in agony out the -window. Beauty such as hers should have been framed in a serene and -haughty dignity. Hers happened to be framed in a frenzy of fidget. - -In its infinite wisdom, the train saw fit to start again. With a sigh -of relief, the girl sank back upon her seat of torture. Mr. Minot -turned again to the uneventful landscape. More yellow sand, more -bearded oaks and evergreens. And in a moment, the family of -razor-backs, plodding along beside the track with a determined demeanor -that said as plainly as words: "You may go ahead--but we shall see what -we shall see." - -Excellent train, it seemed fairly to fly. For a little while. Then -another stop. Beauty wildly anxious on the seat of ancient plush. -Another start--a stop--and a worried but musical voice in Dick Minot's -ear: - -"I beg your pardon--but what should you say are this train's chances -for reaching San Marco by one o'clock?" - -Minot turned. Brown eyes and troubled ones looked into his. A dimple -twitched beside an adorable mouth. Fortunate Florida, peopled with -girls like this. - -"I should say," smiled Mr. Minot, "about the same as those of the -famous little snowball that strayed far from home." - -"Oh--you're right!" Why would she fidget so? "And I'm in a -frightfully uncomfortable position. I simply must reach San Marco for -luncheon at one. I must!" She clenched her small hands. "It's the -most important luncheon of my life. What shall I do?" - -Mr. Minot glanced at his watch. - -"It is now twenty minutes of twelve," he said. "My advice to you is to -order lunch on the train." - -"It was so foolish of me," cried the girl. "I ran up to Jacksonville -in a friend's motor to do a little shopping. I should have known -better. I'm always doing things like this." - -And she looked at Dick Minot accusingly, as though it were he who -always put her up to them. - -"I'm awfully sorry, really," Minot said. He felt quite uncomfortable -about it. - -"And can't you suggest anything?"--pleadingly, almost tearfully. - -"Not at this moment. I'll try, though. Look!" He pointed out the -window. "That family of razor-backs has caught up with us four times -already." - -"What abominable service," the girl cried. "But--aren't they cunning? -The little ones, I mean." - -And she stood looking out with a wonderful tenderness in her eyes, -which, considering the small creatures upon which it was lavished, was -almost ludicrous. - -"Off again," cried Minot. - -And they were. The girl sat nervously on the edge of her seat, with -the expression of one who meant to keep the train going by mental -suggestion. Five cheerful minutes passed in rapid transit. And -then--another abrupt stop. - -"Almost like a football game," said Minot blithely to the distressed -lady across the aisle. "Third down--five yards to go. Oh, by jove, -there's a town on my side." - -"Not a trace of a town on mine," she replied. - -"It's the dreariest, saddest town I ever saw," Minot remarked. "So of -course its name is Sunbeam. And look--what do you see--there beside -the station!" - -"An automobile!" the girl cried. - -"Well, an automobile's ancestor, at any rate," laughed Minot. "Vintage -of 1905. Say--I have a suggestion now. If the chauffeur thinks he can -get you--I mean, us--to San Marco by one o'clock, shall we--" - -But the girl was already on her way. - -"Come on!" Her eyes were bright with excitement. "We--oh, dear--the -old train's started again." - -"No matter--I'll stop it!" Minot reached for the bell cord. - -"But do you dare--can't you be arrested?" - -"Too late--I've done it. Let me help you with those magazines. Quick! -This way." - -On the platform they met an irate conductor, red and puffing. - -"Say--who stopped this train?" he bellowed. - -"I don't know--who usually stops it?" Minot replied, and he and the -girl slid by the uniform to the safety of Sunbeam. - -The lean, lank, weary native who lolled beside the passé automobile was -startled speechless for a moment by the sight of two such attractive -visitors in his unattractive town. Then he remembered. - -"Want a taxi, mister?" he inquired. "Take you up to the Sunbeam House -for a quarter apiece--" - -"Yes, we do want a taxi--" Minot began. - -"To San Marco," cried the girl breathlessly. "Can you get us there by -one o'clock?" - -"To--to--say, lady," stammered the rustic chauffeur. "That train you -just got off of is going to San Marco." - -"Oh, no, it isn't," Minot explained. "We know better. It's going out -into the country to lie down under a shade tree and rest." - -"The train is too slow," said the girl. "I must be in San Marco before -one o'clock. Can you get me--us--there by then? Speak quickly, -please." - -The effect of this request on the chauffeur was to induce even greater -confusion. - -"T--to--to San Marco," he stumbled. "W--well, say, that's a new one on -me. Never had this car out o' Sunbeam yet." - -"Please--please!" the girl pleaded. - -"Lady," said the chauffeur, "I'd do anything I could, within reason--" - -"Can you get us to San Marco by one o'clock?" she demanded. - -"I ain't no prophet, lady." A humorous gleam came into his eye. "But -ever since I got this car I been feelin' sort o' reckless. If you say -so, I'll bid all my family and friends good-by, and we'll take a chance -on San Marco together." - -"That's the spirit," laughed Minot. "But forget the family and -friends." - -He placed his baggage in the front of the car, and helped the girl into -the tonneau. With a show of speed, the countryman went around to the -front of the car and began to crank. - -He continued to crank with agonized face. In the course of a few -minutes, sounds of a terrific disturbance came from inside the car. -Still, like a hurdy-gurdy musician, the man cranked. - -"I say," Minot inquired, "has your machine got the Sextette from -_Lucia_?" - -"Well, there's been a lot of things wrong with it," the man replied, -"but I don't think it's had that yet." - -The girl laughed, and such a laugh, Dick Minot was sure, had never been -heard in Sunbeam before. At that moment the driver leaped to his seat, -breathing hard, and had it out with the wheel. - -"Exeunt, laughingly, from Sunbeam," said Minot in the girl's ear. - -The car rolled asthmatically from the little settlement, and out into -the sand and heat of a narrow road. - -"Eight miles to San Marco," said the driver out of the corner of his -mouth. "Sit tight. I'm going to let her out some." - -Again Dick Minot glanced at the girl beside him. Fate was in a jovial -mood to-day to grant him this odd ride in the company of one so -charming! He could not have told what she wore, but he knew she was -all in white, and he realized the wisdom of white on a girl who had, in -her hair and eyes, colors to delight the most exacting. About her -clung a perfume never captured in a bottle; her chin was the chin of a -girl with a sense of humor; her eyes sparkled with the thrill of their -adventure together. And the dimple, in repose now, became the champion -dimple of the world. - -Minot tried to think of some sprightly remark, but his usually agile -tongue remained silent. What was the matter with him? Why should this -girl seem different, somehow, from all the other girls he had ever met? -When he looked into her eyes a flood of memories--a little sad--of all -the happy times he had ever known overwhelmed him. Memories of a -starlit sea--the red and white awnings of a yacht--the wind whispering -through the trees on a hillside--an orchestra playing in the -distance--memories of old, and happy, far-off things--of times when he -was even younger, even more in love with life. Why should this be? He -wondered. - -And the girl, looking at him, wondered, too--was he suddenly bereft of -his tongue? - -"I haven't asked you the conventional question?" she said at last. -"How do you like Florida?" - -"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Minot replied, coming to with a start. "I -can speak of it even more enthusiastically than any of the railroad -folders do. And yet, it's only recent--my discovery of its charms." - -"Really?" - -"Yes. When I was surveying it on that stopwatch of a train, my -impression of it was quite unfavorable. It seemed so monotonous. I -told myself nothing exciting could ever happen here." - -"And--something has happened?" - -"Yes--something certainly has happened." - -She blushed a little at his tone. Young men usually proposed to her -the first time they saw her. Why shouldn't she blush--a little? - -"Something very fine," Minot went on. "And I am surely very grateful -to fate--" - -"Would you mind looking at your watch--please?" - -"Certainly. A quarter after twelve. As I was saying--" - -"Do you think we can make it?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"You see, it is so very important. I want so very much to be there by -one o'clock." - -"And I want you to." - -"I wonder--if you really knew--" - -"Knew what?" - -"Nothing. I wish you would, please--but you just did look at your -watch, didn't you?" - -They rattled on down that road that was so sandy, so uninteresting, so -lonely, with only a garage advertisement here and there to suggest a -world outside. Suddenly the driver ventured a word over his shoulder. - -"Don't worry, lady," he said. "We'll get there sure." - -And even as he spoke the car gave a roar of rage and came to a dead -stop. - -"Oh, dear--what is it now?" cried the girl. - -"Acts like the train," commented Minot. - -The driver got out and surveyed the car without enthusiasm. - -"I wonder what she's up to now?" he remarked. "Fifteen years I drove -horses, which are supposed to have brains, but this machine can think -of things to do to me that the meanest horse never could." - -"You promised, driver," pleaded the girl. "We must reach San Marco on -time. Mr.--er--your watch?" - -"Twenty-five past twelve," smiled Minot. - -The native descended to the dust and slid under the car. In a moment -he emerged, triumphant. - -"All O.K." he announced. "Don't you worry, lady. It's San Marco or -bust." - -"If only something doesn't bust," Minot said. - -Again they were plowing through the sand. The girl sat anxiously on -the edge of the seat, her cheeks flaming, her eyes alight. Minot -watched her. And suddenly all the happy, sad little memories melted -into a golden glow--the glow of being alive--on this lonesome -road--with her! Then suddenly he knew! This was the one girl, the -girl of all the world, the girl he should love while the memory of her -lasted, which would be until the eyes that looked upon her now were -dust. A great exultation swept through him-- - -"What did you mean," he asked, "when you said you were always doing -things like this?" - -"I meant," she answered, "that I'm a silly little fool. Oh, if you -could know me well--" and her eyes seemed to question the -future--"you'd see for yourself. Never looking ahead to calculate the -consequences. It's the old story of fools rushing in--" - -"You mean of angels rushing in, don't you? I never was good at old -saws, but--" - -"And once more, please--your watch?" - -"Twenty minutes of one." - -"Oh, dear--can we"-- - -A wild whoop from the driver interrupted. - -"San Marco," he cried, pointing to where red towers rose above the -green of the country. "It paid to take a chance with me. I sure did -let her out. Where do you want to go, lady?" - -"The Hotel de la Pax," said the girl, and with a sigh of deep relief, -sank back upon the cushions. - -"And Salvator won," quoted Mr. Minot with a laugh. - -"How can I ever thank you?" the girl asked. - -"Don't try," said Minot. "That is--I mean--try, if you will, please." - -"It meant so very much to me--" - -"No--you'd better not, after all. It makes me feel guilty. For I did -nothing that doesn't come under the head of glorious privilege. A -chance to serve you! Why, I'd travel to the ends of the earth for -that." - -"But--it was good of you. You can hardly realize all it meant to me to -reach this hotel by one o'clock. Perhaps I ought to tell you--" - -"It doesn't matter," Minot replied. "That you have reached here is my -reward." His cheeks burned; his heart sang. Here was the one girl, -and he built castles in Spain with lightening strokes. She should be -his. She must be. Before him life stretched, glorious, with her at -his side-- - -"I think I will tell you," the girl was saying. "This is to be the -most important luncheon of my life because--" - -"Yes?" smiled Mr. Minot - -"Because it is the one at which I am going to announce my engagement!" - -Minot's heart stopped beating. A hundred castles in Spain came -tumbling about his ears, and the roar of their falling deafened him. -He put out his hand blindly to open the door, for he realized that the -car had come to a stop. - -"Let me help you, please," he said dully. - -And even as he spoke a horrible possibility swept into his heart and -overwhelmed him. - -"I--I beg your pardon," he stammered, "but would you mind telling me -one thing?" - -"Of course not. But I really must fly--" - -"The name of--the happy man." - -"Why--Allan, Lord Harrowby. Thank you so much--and good-by." - -She was gone now--gone amid the palms of that gorgeous hotel courtyard. -And out of the roar that enveloped him Minot heard a voice: - -"Thirty-five dollars, mister." - -So promptly did he pay this grievous overcharge that the chauffeur -asked hopefully: - -"Now could I take you anywhere, sir?" - -"Yes," said Minot bitterly. "Take me back to New York." - -"Well--if I had a new front tire I might try it." - -Two eager black boys were moving inside with Minot's bags, and he -followed. As he passed the fountain tinkling gaily in the courtyard: - -"What was it I promised Thacker?" he said to himself. "'Miss Cynthia -Meyrick changes her mind only over my dead body.' Ah, well--the good -die young." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP - -At the desk of the De la Pax Mr. Minot learned that for fifteen dollars -a day he might board and lodge amid the splendors of that hotel. -Gratefully he signed his name. One of the negro boys--who had matched -coins for him with the other boy while he registered--led the way to -his room. - -It proved a long and devious journey. The Hotel de la Pax was a series -of afterthoughts on the part of its builders. Up hill and down dale -the boy led, through dark passageways, over narrow bridges, until at -length they arrived at the door of 389. - -"My boy," muttered Minot feelingly, "I congratulate you. Henry M. -Stanley in the flower of his youth couldn't have done any better." - -"Yes, suh." The boy threw open the door of a narrow cell, at the -farther end of which a solitary window admitted the well-known Florida -sunshine. Minot stepped over and glanced out. Where the gay courtyard -with its green palms waving, its fountain tinkling? Not visible from -389. Instead Minot saw a narrow street, its ancient cobblestones -partly obscured by flourishing grass, and bordered by quaint, top-heavy -Spanish houses, their plaster walls a hundred colors from the -indignities of the years. - -"We seem to have strayed over into Spain," he remarked. - -The bell-boy giggled. - -"Yes, suh. We one block and a half from de hotel office." - -"I didn't notice any taxis in the corridors," smiled Minot. -"Here--wait a minute." He tossed the boy a coin. "Your fare back -home. If you get stranded on the way, telegraph." - -The boy departed, and Minot continued to gaze out. Directly across -from his window, looking strangely out of place in that dead and buried -street, stood a great stone house that bore on its front the sign -"Manhattan Club and Grill." On the veranda, flush with the sidewalk -and barely fifteen feet away, a huge red-faced man sat deep in slumber. - -Many and strange pursuits had claimed the talents of old Tom Stacy, -manager of the Manhattan Club, ere his advent in San Marco. A too -active district attorney had forced the New York police to take a keen -interest in his life and works, hence Mr. Stacy's presence on that -Florida porch. But such troubles were forgot for the moment. He -slumbered peacefully, secure in the knowledge that the real business of -the club would not require his attention until darkness fell. His -great head fell gradually farther in the direction of his generous -waist, and while there is no authentic evidence to offer, it is safe to -assume that he dreamed of Broadway. - -Suddenly Mr. Stacy's head took another tilt downward, and his Panama -hat slipped off to the veranda floor. To the gaze of Mr. Minot, above, -there was revealed a bald pate extensive and gleaming. The habitual -smile fled from Minot's face. A feeling of impotent anger filled his -soul. For a bald head could recall but one thing--Jephson. - -He strode from the window, savagely kicking an innocent suit-case that -got in his way. What mean trick was this fate had played him as he -entered San Marco? To show to him the one girl in all her glory and -sweetness, to thrill him through and through with his discovery--and -then to send the girl scurrying off to announce her engagement to -another man! Scurvy, he called it. But scurvier still, that it should -be the very engagement he had hastened to San Marco to bring to its -proper close--"I do," and Mendelssohn. - -He sat gloomily down on the bed. What could he do? What save keep his -word, given on the seventeenth floor of an office building in New York? -No man had yet had reason to question the good faith of a Minot. His -dead father, at the beginning of his career, had sacrificed his fortune -to keep his word, and gone back with a smile to begin all over again. -What could he do? - -Nothing, save grit his teeth and see the thing through. He made up his -mind to this as he bathed and shaved, and prepared himself for his -debut in San Marco. So that, when he finally left the hotel and -stepped out into San Sebastian Avenue, he was cheerful with a dogged, -boy-stood-on-the-burning-deck cheerfulness. - -A dozen negroes, their smiles reminiscent of tooth powder -advertisements, vainly sought to cajole him into their shaky vehicles. -With difficulty he avoided their pleas, and strolled down San Marco's -main thoroughfare. On every side clever shopkeepers spread the net for -the eagle on the dollar. Jewelers' shops flashed, modistes hinted, -milliners begged to present their latest creations. - -He came presently to a narrow cross street, where humbler merchants -catered to the Coney instinct that lurks in even the most affluent of -tourists. There gaudy souvenir stores abounded. The ugly and -inevitable alligator, fallen from his proud estate to fireside slipper, -wallet, cigar case, umbrella stand, photograph album and -Lord-knows-what, was head-lined in this street. Picture post-cards -hung in flocks, tin-type galleries besought, news-stands, soda-water -fountains and cheap boarding-houses stood side by side. And, every few -feet, Mr. Minot came upon "The Oldest House in San Marco." - -On his way back to the hotel, in front of one of the more dazzling -modiste's shops, he saw a limousine drawn up to the curb, and in it -Jack Paddock, friend of his college days. Paddock leaped blithely from -the machine and grasped Dick Minot by the hand. - -"You here?" he cried. - -"Foolish question," commented Mr. Minot. - -"Yes, I know," said Mr. Paddock. "Been here so long my brain's a -little flabby. But I'm glad to see you, old man." - -"Same here." Mr. Minot stared at the car. "I say, Jack, did you earn -that writing fiction?" - -Paddock laughed. - -"I'm not writing much fiction now," he replied. "The car belongs to -Mrs. Helen Bruce, the wittiest hostess in San Marco." He came closer. -"My boy," he confided, "I have struck something essentially soft. Some -time soon, in a room with all the doors and windows closed and the -weather-strips in place, I'll whisper it to you. I've been dying to -tell somebody." - -"And the car--" - -"Part of the graft, Dick. Here comes Mrs. Bruce now. Did I mention -she was the wittiest--of course I did. Want to meet her? Well, later -then. You're at the Pax, I suppose. See you there." - -Mr. Minot moved on from the imminence of Mrs. Bruce. A moment later -the limousine sped by him. One seat was generously filled by the -wittiest hostess in San Marco. Seated opposite her, Mr. Paddock waved -an airy hand. Life had always been the gayest of jokes to Mr. Paddock. - -Life was at the moment quite the opposite to Dick Minot. He devoted -the next hour to sad introspection in the lobby. It was not until he -was on his way in to dinner that he again saw Cynthia Meyrick. Then, -just outside the dining-room door, he encountered her, still all in -white, lovelier than ever, in her cheek a flush of excitement no doubt -put there by the most important luncheon of her life. He waited for -her to recognize him--and he did not wait in vain. - -"Ah, Mr.--" - -"Minot." - -"Of course. In the hurry of this noon I quite overlooked an -introduction. I am--" - -"Miss Cynthia Meyrick. I happen to know because I met his lordship in -New York. May I ask--was the luncheon--" - -"Quite without a flaw. So you know Lord Harrowby?" - -"Er--slightly. May I offer my very best wishes?" - -"So good of you." - -Formal, formal, formal. Was that how it must be between them -hereafter? Well, it was better so. Miss Meyrick presented her father -and her aunt, and that did not tend to lighten the formality. Icicles, -both of them, though stocky puffing icicles. Aunt inquired if Mr. -Minot was related to the Minots of Detroit, and when he failed to -qualify, at once lost all interest in him. Old Spencer Meyrick did not -accord him even that much attention. - -Yet--all was not formal, as it happened. For as Cynthia Meyrick moved -away, she whispered: "I must see you after dinner--on important -business." And her smile as she said it made Minot's own lonely dinner -quite cheery. - -At seven in the evening the hotel orchestra gathered in the lobby for -its nightly concert, and after the way of orchestras, it was almost -ready to begin when Minot left the dining-room at eight. Sitting -primly in straight backed chairs, an audience gathered for the most -part from the more inexpensive hostelries waited patiently. Presumably -these people were there for an hour with music, lovely maid. But it -was the gowns of more material maids that interested the greater number -of them, and many drab little women sat making furtive mental notes -that should while away the hours conversationally when they got back to -Akron or Terre Haute. - -Minot sat down in a veranda chair and looked out at the courtyard. In -the splendor of its evening colors, it was indeed the setting for -romance. In the midst of the green palms and blooming things splashed -a fountain which might well have been the one old Ponce de Leon sought. -On three sides the lighted towers and turrets of that huge hotel -climbed toward the bright, warm southern sky. A dazzling moon shamed -Mr. Edison's lamps, the breeze came tepid from the sea, the very latest -in waltzes drifted out from the gorgeous lobby. Here romance, Minot -thought, must have been born. - -"Mr. Minot--I've been looking everywhere--" - -She was beside him now, a slim white figure in the dusk--the one thing -lacking in that glittering picture. He leaped to meet her. - -"Sitting here dreaming, I reckon," she whispered, "of somebody far -away." - -"No." He shook his head. "I leave that to the newly engaged." - -She made no answer. He gave her his chair, and drew up another for -himself. - -"Mr. Minot," she said, "I was terribly thoughtless this noon. But you -must forgive me--I was so excited. Mr. Minot--I owe you--" - -She hesitated. Minot bit his lip savagely. Must he hear all that -again? How much she owed him for his service--for getting her to that -luncheon in time--that wonderful luncheon-- - -"I owe you," finished the girl softly, "the charges on that taxi." - -It was something of a shock to Minot. Was she making game of him? - -"Don't," he answered. "Here in the moonlight, with that waltz playing, -and the old palms whispering--is this a time to talk of taxi bills?" - -"But--we must talk of something--oh, I mean--I insist. Won't you -please tell me the figure?" - -"All the time we were together this morning, I talked figures--the -figures on the face of a watch. Let us find some pleasanter topic. I -believe Lord Harrowby said you were to be married soon?" - -"Next Tuesday. A week from to-morrow." - -"In San Marco?" - -"Yes. It breaks auntie's heart that it can't be in Detroit. Cord -Harrowby is her triumph, you see. But father can't go north in the -winter--Allan wishes to be married at once." - -Minot was thinking hard. So Harrowby was auntie's triumph? And was he -not Cynthia Meyrick's as well? He would have given much to be able to -inquire. - -Suddenly, with the engaging frankness of a child, the girl asked: - -"Has your engagement ever been announced, Mr. Minot?" - -"Why--er--not to my knowledge," Minot laughed. "Why?" - -"I was just wondering--if it made everybody feel queer. The way it -makes me feel. Ever since one o'clock--I ought never to say it--I've -felt as though everything was over. I've seemed old! Old!" She -clenched her fists, and spoke almost in terror. "I don't want to grow -old. I'd hate it." - -"It was here," said Minot softly, "Ponce de Leon sought the fountain of -youth. When you came up I was pretending the one splashing out there -was that very fountain itself--" - -"If it only were," the girl cried. "Oh--you could never drag me away -from it. But it isn't. It's supplied by the San Marco Water Works, -and there's a meter ticking somewhere, I'm sure. And now--Mr. Minot--" - -"I know. You mean the thirty-five dollars I paid our driver. I wish -you would write me a check. I've a reason." - -"Thank you. I wanted to--so much. I'll bring it to you soon." - -She was gone, and Minot sat staring into the palms, his lips firm, his -hands gripping the arms of his chair. Suddenly, with a determined -leap, he was on his feet. - -A moment later he stood at the telegraph counter in the lobby, writing -in bold flowing characters a message for Mr. John Thacker, on a certain -seventeenth floor, New York. - - -"I resign. Will stay on the job until a substitute arrives, but start -him when you get this. - -"RICHARD MINOT." - - -The telegram sent, he returned to his veranda chair to think. Thacker -would be upset, of course. But after all, Thacker's claim on him was -not such that he must wreck his life's happiness to serve him. Even -Thacker must see that. And the girl--was she madly in love with the -lean and aristocratic Harrowby? Not by any means, to judge from her -manner. Next Tuesday--a week. What couldn't happen in a--Minot -stopped. No, that wouldn't do, either. Even if a substitute arrived, -he could hardly with honor turn about and himself wreck the hopes of -Thacker and Jephson. He lost, either way. It was a horrible mix-up. -He cursed beneath his breath. - -The red glow of a cigar near by drew closer as the smoker dragged his -chair across the veranda floor. Minot saw behind the glow the keen -face of a man eager for talk. - -"Some scene, isn't it?" said the stranger. "Sort of makes the musical -comedies look cheap. All it needs is seven stately chorus ladies -walking out from behind that palm down to the left, and it would have -Broadway lashed to the mast." - -"Yes," replied Minot absently. "This is the real thing." - -"I've been sitting here thinking," the other went on. "It doesn't seem -to me this place has been advertised right. Why, there are hundreds of -people up north whose windows look out on sunset over the -brewery--people with money, too--who'd take the first train for here if -they realized the picture we're looking at now. Get some good hustler -to tell 'em about it--" He paused. "I hate to talk about myself, but -say--ever hear of Cotrell's Ink Eraser? Nothing ever written Cotrell -can't erase. Will not soil or scratch the paper. If the words Cotrell -has erased were put side by side--" - -"Selling it?" Minot inquired wearily. - -"No. But I made that eraser. Put it on every desk between New York -and the rolling Oregon. After that I landed Helot's Bottled Sauces. -And then Patterson's Lime Juice. Puckered every mouth in America. -Advertising is my specialty." - -"So I gather." - -"Sure as you sit here. Have a cigar. Trimmer is my name--never mind -the jokes. Henry Trimmer. Advertising specialist. Is your business -flabby? Does it need a tonic? Try Trimmer. Quoting from my -letter-head." He leaned closer. "Excuse a personal question, but -didn't I see you talking with Miss Cynthia Meyrick a while back?" - -"Possibly." - -Mr. Trimmer came even closer. - -"Engaged to Lord Harrowby, I understand." - -"I believe so--" - -"Young fellow," Mr. Trimmer's tone was exultant, "I can't keep in any -longer. I got a proposition in tow so big it's bursting my brain -cells--and it takes some strain to do that. No, I can't tell you the -exact nature of it--but I will say this--to-morrow night this time I'll -throw a bomb in this hotel so loud it'll be heard round the world." - -"An anarchist?" - -"Not on your life. Advertiser. And I've got something to advertise -this hot February, take it from me. Maybe you're a friend of Miss -Meyrick. Well, I'm sorry. For when I spring my little surprise I -reckon this Harrowby wedding is going to shrivel up and fade away." - -"You mean to say you--you're going to stop the wedding?" - -"I mean to say nothing. Watch me. Watch Henry Trimmer. Just a tip, -young fellow. Well, I guess I'll turn in. Get some of my best ideas -in bed. See you later." - -And Mr. Trimmer strode into the circle of light, a fine upstanding -figure of a man, to pass triumphantly out of sight among the palms. -Dazed, Dick Minot stared after him. - -A voice spoke his name. He turned. The slim white presence again, -holding toward him a slip of paper. - -"The check, Mr. Minot. Thirty-five dollars. Is that correct?" - -"Correct. It's splendid. Because I'm never going to cash it--I'm -going to keep it--" - -"Really, Mr. Minot, I must say good--" - -He came closer. Thacker and Jephson faded. New York was far away. He -was young, and the moon was shining-- - -"--going to keep it--always. The first letter you ever wrote me--" - -"And the last, Mr. Minot. Really--I must go. Good night." - -He stood alone, with the absurd check in his trembling fingers. Slowly -the memory of Trimmer came back. A bomb? What sort of a bomb? - -Well, he had given his word. There was no way out--he must protect old -Jephson's interests. But might he not wish the enemy--success? He -stared off in the direction the advertising wizard had gone. - -"Trimmer, old boy," he muttered, "here's to your pitching arm!" - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB - -Miss Cynthia Meyrick was a good many girls in one. So many, indeed, -that it might truthfully be added that while most people are never so -much alone as when in a crowd, Miss Meyrick was never so much in a -crowd as when alone. Most of these girls were admirable, a few were -more mischievous than admirable, but rely upon it that every single one -of them was nice. - -It happened to be as a very serious-minded girl that Miss Meyrick -opened her eyes on Tuesday morning. She lay for a long time watching -the Florida sunshine, spoken of so tenderly in the railroad's come-on -books, as it danced across the foot of her bed. To-day the _Lileth_ -was to steam into San Marco harbor! To-day her bridegroom was to smile -his slow British smile on her once more! She recalled these facts -without the semblance of a thrill. - -Where, she wondered, was the thrill? The frivolous girl who had met -Lord Harrowby abroad, and dazzled by dreams of social triumphs to come -had allowed her aunt to urge her into this betrothal, was not present -at the moment. Had she been, she would have declared this Cynthia -Meyrick a silly, and laughed her into gaiety again. - -Into the room toddled the aunt who had stood so faithfully on the -coaching line abroad. With heavy wit, she spoke of the coming of Lord -Harrowby. Miss Cynthia did not smile. She turned grave eyes on her -aunt. - -"I'm wondering," she confessed. "Was it the thing to do, after all? -Shall I be so very happy?" - -"Nonsense. Ninety-nine out of a hundred engaged girls have doubts. -It's natural." Aunt Mary sat down on the bed, which groaned in agony. -"Of course you'll be happy. You'll take precedence over Marion -Bishop--didn't we look that up? And after the airs she's put on when -she's come back to Detroit--well, you ought to be the happiest of -girls." - -"I know--but--" Miss Meyrick continued to gaze solemnly at her aunt. -She was accustomed to the apparition. To any one who knew Aunt Mary -only in her public appearances, a view of her now would have been -startling. Not to go too deeply into the matter, she had not yet been -poured into the steel girders that determined her public form. Her -washed-out eyes were puffy, and her gray hair was not so luxurious as -it would be when she appeared in the hotel dining-room for lunch. -There she sat, a fat little lump of a woman who had all her life chased -will-o'-the-wisps. - -"But what?" she demanded firmly. - -"It seems as if all my fun were over. Didn't you feel that way when -you became engaged?" - -"Hardly. But then--I hadn't enjoyed everything money will buy, as you -have. I've always said you had too much. There, dear--cheer up. You -don't seem to realize. Why, I can remember when you were born--in the -flat down on Second Street--and your father wearing his old overcoat -another year to pay the doctor's bill. And now that little fluffy baby -is to marry into the peerage! Bless you, how proud your mother would -be had she lived--" - -"Are you sure, Aunt Mary?" - -"Positive." Aunt Mary's eyes filled, and with a show of real, if -clumsy affection, she leaned over and kissed her niece. "Come, dear, -get up. I've ordered breakfast in the rooms." - -Miss Cynthia sat up. And as if banished by that act, the serious -little mouse of a girl scampered into oblivion, and in her place -appeared a gay young rogue who sees the future lying bright ahead. - -"After all," she smiled, "I'm not married--yet." And humming brightly -from a current musical comedy--"Not just yet--just yet--just yet--" she -stretched forth one slim white arm to throw aside the coverlet. At -which point it is best discreetly to withdraw. - -Mr. Minot, after a lonesome if abundant breakfast, was at this moment -strolling across the hotel courtyard toward yesterday morning's New -York papers. As he walked, the pert promises of Mr. Trimmer filled his -mind. What was the proposition Mr. Trimmer had in tow? How would it -affect the approaching wedding? And what course of action should the -representative of Jephson pursue when it was revealed? For in the -sensible light of morning Dick Minot realized that while he remained in -San Marco as the guardian of Jephson's interests, he must do his duty. -Adorable Miss Meyrick might be, but any change of mind on her part must -be over his dead body. A promise was a promise. - -With this resolve firm, he proceeded along the hot sidewalk of San -Sebastian Avenue. On his right the rich shops again, a dignified -Spanish church as old as the town, a rambling lackadaisical -"opera-house." On his left the green and sand colored plaza, with the -old Spanish governor's house in the center, now serving Uncle Sam as -post-office. A city of the past was this; "other times, other manners" -breathed in the air. - -At the news-stand Minot met Jack Paddock, jaunty, with a gardenia in -his buttonhole and the atmosphere of prosperity that goes with it. - -"Come for a stroll," Paddock suggested. "I presume you want the giddy -story of my life I promised you yesterday? Been down to the old -Spanish fort yet? No? Come ahead, and there on the ramparts I'll -impart." - -They went down the narrow and very modern street of the souvenir -venders. Suddenly the street ended, and they walked again in the past. -The remnants of the old city gates restored, loomed in the sunlight. -They stepped through the portals, and Minot gave a gasp. - -There in the quiet morning stood the great gray fort that the early -settlers had built to protect themselves from the gay dogs who roamed -the seas. Its massive walls spoke clearly of romance, of bloody days -of cutlass and spike, of bandaged heads and ready arms. Such things -still stood! Still stood in the United States--land of steam radiators -and men who marched in suffrage parades! - -The old caretaker let them in, and they went up the stone steps to -stand at last on the parapet looking down on the shimmering sea. To -Minot, fresh from Broadway, it all seemed like a colorful dream. They -climbed to the highest point and sat, swinging their legs over the -edge. Far below the bright blue waters broke on the lower walls. - -"It's a funny country down here," Paddock said slowly. "A sort of -too-good-to-be-true, who-believes-it place. Bright and gay and full of -green palms, and so much like a musical comedy you keep waiting all the -time for the curtain to go down and the male population to begin its -march up the aisle. I've been here three months, and I don't yet think -it's really true." - -He shifted on the cold stones. - -"Ever since white men hit on it," he went on, "it's sort of kept luring -them here on fool dream hunts--like a woman. Along about the time old -Ponce de Leon came over here prospecting for the fountain that nobody -but Lillian Russell has located yet, another Spaniard--I forget his -name--had a pipe dream, too. He came over hot-foot looking for a -mountain of gold he dreamed was here. I'm sorry for that old boy." - -"Sorry for him?" repeated Minot. - -"Yes--sorry. He had the right idea, but he arrived several hundred -years too soon. He should have waited until the yellow rich from the -North showed up here. Then he'd have found his mountain--he'd have -found a whole range of them." - -"I suppose I'm to infer," Mr. Minot said, "that where he failed, you've -landed." - -"Yes, Dick. I am right on the mountain with my little alpenstock in -hand." - -"I'm sorry," replied Minot frankly. "You might have amounted to -something if you'd been separated from money long enough." - -"So I've heard," Paddock said with a yawn. "But it wasn't to be. I -haven't seen you since we left college, have I? Well, Dick, for a -couple of years I tried to make good doing fiction. I turned them out -by the yard--nice quiet little tea-table yarns with snappy dialogue. -Once I got eighty dollars for a story. It was hard work--and I always -did yearn for the purple, you know." - -"I know," said Minot gravely. - -"Well, I've struck it, Dick. I've struck the deep purple with a loud -if sickening thud. Hist! The graft I mentioned yesterday." He -glanced over his shoulder. "Remember Mrs. Bruce, the wittiest hostess -in San Marco?" - -"Of course I do." - -"Well, I write her repartee for her." - -"Her--what?" - -"Her repartee--her dialogue--the bright talk she convulses dinner -tables with. Instead of putting my smart stuff into stories at eighty -per, I sell it to Mrs. Bruce at--I'd be ashamed to tell you, old man. -I remarked that it was essentially soft. It is." - -"This is a new one on me," said Minot, dazed. - -A delighted smile spread over Mr. Paddock's handsome face. - -"Thanks. That's the beauty of it I'm a pioneer. There'll be others, -but I was the first. Consider the situation. Here's Mrs. Bruce, -loaded with diamonds and money, but tongue-tied in company, with a wit -developed in Zanesville, Ohio. Bright, but struggling, young author -comes to her--offers to make her conversation the sensation of the -place for a few pesos." - -"You did that?" - -"Yes--I ask posterity to remember it was I who invented the graft. -Mrs. Bruce fell on my fair young neck. Now, she gives me in advance a -list of her engagements, and for the important ones I devise her line -of talk. Then, as I'm usually present at the occasion, I swing things -round for her and give her her cues. If I'm not there, she has to -manage it herself. It's a great life--only a bit of a strain on me. I -have to remember not to be clever in company. If I forget and spring a -good one, she jumps on me proper afterward for not giving it to her." - -"Jack," said Minot slowly, "come way from here with me. Come north. -This place will finish you sure." - -"Sorry, old man," laughed Paddock, "but I've had a nip of the lotus. -This lazy old land suits me. I like to sit on a veranda while a dusky -menial in a white coat hands me the tinkle-tinkle in a tall cool glass. -Come away? Oh, no--I couldn't do that." - -"You'll marry down here," sighed Minot "Some girl with money. And the -career we all hoped you'd make for yourself will go up in a golden -cloud." - -"I met a girl," Paddock replied, half closing his eyes and smiling -cynically at the sea--"little thing from the Middle West, stopping at a -back street boarding-house--father in the hardware business, nobody at -all--but eyes like the sea there, hands like butterflies--sort of--got -me-- That's how I happen to know I'll never marry. For if I married -anybody it would have to be her--and I let her go home without saying a -word because I was selfish and like this easy game and intend to stick -to it until I'm smothered in rose-leaves. Shall we wander back?" - -"See here, Jack--I don't want to preach"--Minot tried to conceal his -seriousness with a smile--"but if I were you I'd stick to this girl, -and make good--" - -"And leave this?" Paddock laughed. "Dick, you old idiot, this is meat -and drink to me. This nice old land of loiter in the sun. Nay, nay. -Now, I've really got to get back. Mrs. Bruce is giving a tango tea -this afternoon--informal, but something has to be said-- These fellows -who write a daily humorous column must lead a devil of a life." - -With a laugh, Minot followed his irresponsible friend down the steps. -They crossed the bridge over the empty moat and came through the city -gates again to the street of the alligator. - -"By the way," Paddock said as they went up the hotel steps, "you -haven't told me what brought you south?" - -"Business, Jack," said Minot. "It's a secret--perhaps I can tell you -later." - -"Business? I thought, of course, you came for pleasure." - -"There'll be no pleasure in this trip for me," said Minot bitterly. - -"Oh, won't there?" Paddock laughed. "Wait till you hear Mrs. Bruce -talk. See you later, old man." - -At luncheon they brought Mr. Minot a telegram from a certain -seventeenth floor in New York. An explosive telegram. It read: - - -"Nonsense nobody here to take your place, see it through, you've given -your word. - -"THACKER." - - -Gloomily Mr. Minot considered. What was there to do but see it -through? Even though Thacker should send another to take his place, -could he stay to woo the lady he adored? Hardly. In that event he -would have to go away--never see her again--never hear her voice-- If -he stayed as Jephson's representative he might know the glory of her -nearness for a week, might thrill at her smile--even while he worked to -wed her to Lord Harrowby. And perhaps-- Who could say? Hard as he -might work, might he not be thwarted? It was possible. - -So after lunch he sent Thacker a reassuring message, promising to stay. -And at the end of a dull hour in the lobby, he set out to explore the -town. - -The Mermaid Tea House stood on the waterfront, with a small -second-floor balcony that looked out on the harbor. Passing that way -at four-thirty that afternoon, Minot heard a voice call to him. He -glanced up. - -"Oh, Mr. Minot--won't you come into my parlor?" Cynthia Meyrick smiled -down on him. - -"Splendid," Minot laughed. "I walk forlorn through this old Spanish -town--suddenly a lattice is thrown wide, a fair hand beckons. I dash -within." - -"Thanks for dashing," Miss Meyrick greeted him, on the balcony. "I was -finding it dreadfully dull. But I'm afraid the Spanish romance is a -little lacking. There is no moonlight, no lattice, no mantilla, no -Spanish beauty." - -"No matter," Minot answered. "I never did care for Spanish types. -They flash like a sky-rocket--then tumble in the dark. Now, the -home-grown girls--" - -"And nothing but tea," she interrupted. "Will you have a cup?" - -"Thanks. Was it really very dull?" - -"Yes. This book was to blame." She held up a novel. - -"What's the matter with it?" - -"Oh--it's one of those books in which the hero and heroine are forever -'gazing into each other's eyes.' And they understand perfectly. But -the reader doesn't. I've reached one of those gazing matches now." - -"But isn't it so in real life--when people gaze into each other's eyes, -don't they usually understand?" - -"Do they?" - -"Don't they? You surely have had more experience than I." - -"What makes you think so?" she smiled. - -"Because your eyes are so very easy to gaze into." - -"Mr. Minot--you're gazing into them--brazenly. And--neither of us -'understand,' do we?" - -"Oh, no--we're both completely at sea." - -"There," she cried triumphantly. "I told you these authors were all -wrong." - -Minot, having begun to gaze, found difficulty in stopping. She was -near, she was beautiful--and a promise made in New York was a dim and -distant thing. - -"The railroad folders try to make you believe Florida is an annex to -Heaven," he said. "I used to think they were lying. But--" - -She blushed. - -"But what, Mr. Minot?" - -He leaned close, a strange light in his eyes. He opened his mouth to -speak. - -Suddenly he glanced over her shoulder, and the light died from his -eyes. His lips set in a bitter curve. - -"Nothing," he said. A silence. - -"Mr. Minot--you've grown awfully dull." - -"Have I? I'm sorry." - -"Must I go back to my book--" - -She was interrupted by the shrill triumphant cry of a yacht's siren at -her back. She turned her head. - -"The _Lileth_," she said. - -"Exactly," said Minot. "The bridegroom cometh." - -Another silence. - -"You'll want to go to meet him," Minot said, rising. He stood looking -at the boat, flashing gaily in the sunshine. "I'll go with you as far -as the street." - -"But--you know Lord Harrowby. Meet him with me." - -"It seems hardly the thing--" - -"But I'm not sentimental. And surely Allan's not." - -"Then I must be," said Minot. "Really--I'd rather not--" - -They went together to the street. At the parting of the ways, Minot -turned to her. - -"I promised Lord Harrowby in New York," he told her, "that you would -have your lamp trimmed and burning." - -She looked up at him. A mischievous light came into her eyes. - -"Please--have you a match?" she asked. - -It was too much. Minot turned and fled down the street. He did not -once look back, though it seemed to him that he felt every step the -girl took across that narrow pier to her fiancé's side. - -As he dressed for dinner that night his telephone rang, and Miss -Meyrick's voice sounded over the wire. - -"Harrowby remembers you very pleasantly. Won't you join us at dinner?" - -"Are you sure an outsider--" he began. - -"Nonsense. Mr. Martin Wall is to be there." - -"Ah--thank you--I'll be delighted," Minot replied. - -In the lobby Harrowby seized his hand. - -"My dear chap--you're looking fit. Great to see you again. By the -way--do you know Martin Wall?" - -"Yes--Mr. Wall and I met just before the splash," Minot smiled. He -shook hands with Wall, unaccountably genial and beaming. "The Hudson, -Mr. Wall, is a bit chilly in February." - -"My dear fellow," said Wall, "can you ever forgive me? A thousand -apologies. It was all a mistake--a horrible mistake." - -"I felt like a rotter when I heard about it," Harrowby put in. "Martin -mistook you for some one else. You must forgive us both." - -"Freely," said Minot. "And I want to apologize for my suspicions of -you, Lord Harrowby." - -"Thanks, old chap." - -"I never doubted you would come--after I saw Miss Meyrick." - -"She is a ripper, isn't she?" said Harrowby enthusiastically. - -Martin Wall shot a quick, almost hostile glance at Minot. - -"You've noticed that yourself, haven't you?" he said in Minot's ear. - -At which point the Meyrick family arrived, and they all went in to -dinner. - -That function could hardly be described as hilarious. Aunt Mary -fluttered and gasped in her triumph, and spoke often of her horror of -the new. The recent admission of automobiles to the sacred precincts -of Bar Harbor seemed to be the great and disturbing fact in life for -her. Spencer Meyrick said little; his thoughts were far away. The -rush and scramble of a business office, the click of typewriters, the -excitement of the dollar chase--these things had been his life. -Deprived of them, like many another exile in the South, he moved in a -dim world of unrealities and wished that he were home. Minot, too, had -little to say. On Martin Wall fell the burden of entertainment, and he -bore it as one trained for the work. Blithely he gossiped of queer -corners that had known him and amid the flow of his oratory the dinner -progressed. - -It was after dinner, when they all stood together in the lobby a moment -before separating, that Mr. Henry Trimmer made good his promise out of -a clear sky. - -Cynthia Meyrick stood facing the others, talking brightly, when -suddenly her face paled and the flippant words died on her lips. They -all turned instantly. - -Through the lobby, in a buzz of excited comment, a man walked slowly, -his eyes on the ground. He was a tall blond Englishman, not unlike -Lord Harrowby in appearance. His gray eyes, when he raised them for a -moment, were listless, his shoulders stooped and weary, and he had a -long drooping mustache that hung like a weeping willow above a -particularly cheerless stream. - -However, it was not his appearance that excited comment and caused Miss -Meyrick to pale. Hung over his shoulders was a pair of sandwich boards -such as the outcasts of a great city carry up and down the streets. -And on the front board, turned full toward Miss Meyrick's dinner party, -was printed in bold black letters: - - I - AM - THE - REAL - LORD - HARROWBY - -With a little gasp and a murmured apology, Miss Meyrick turned quickly -and entered the elevator. Lord Harrowby stood like a man of stone, -gazing at the sandwich boards. - -It was at this point that the hotel detective sufficiently recovered -himself to lay eager hands on the audacious sandwich man and propel him -violently from the scene. - -In the background Mr. Minot perceived Henry Trimmer, puffing excitedly -on a big black cigar, a triumphant look on his face. - -Mr. Trimmer's bomb was thrown. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -TEN MINUTES OF AGONY - -"All I ask, Mister Harrowby, is that you consent to a short interview -with your brother." - -Mr. Trimmer was speaking. The time was noon of the following day, and -Trimmer faced Lord Harrowby in the sitting-room of his lordship's hotel -suite. Also present--at Harrowby's invitation--were Martin Wall and -Mr. Minot. - -His lordship turned his gray eyes on Trimmer's eager face. He could -make those eyes fishy when he liked--he made them so now. - -"He is not my brother," he said coldly, "and I shall not see him. May -I ask you not to call me Mr. Harrowby?" - -"You may ask till you're red in your noble face," replied Trimmer, firm -in his disrespect. "But I shall go on calling you 'Mister' just the -same. I call you that because I know the facts. Just as I call your -poor cheated brother, who was in this hotel last night between sandwich -boards, Lord Harrowby." - -"Really," said his lordship, "I see no occasion for prolonging this -interview." - -Mr. Trimmer leaned forward. He was a big man, but his face was -incongruously thin--almost ax-like. The very best sort of face to -thrust in anywhere--and Trimmer was the very man to do the thrusting -without batting an eye. - -"Do you deny," he demanded with the air of a prosecutor, "that you had -an older brother by the name of George?" - -"I certainly do not," answered Lord Harrowby. "George ran off to -America some twenty-two years ago. He died in a mining camp in Arizona -twelve years back. There is no question whatever about that. We had -it on the most reliable authority." - -"A lot of lies," said Trimmer, "can be had on good authority. This -situation illustrates that. Do you think, Mr. Harrowby, that I'd be -wasting my time on this proposition if I wasn't dead sure of my facts. -Why, poor old George has the evidence in his possession. -Incontrovertible proofs. It wouldn't hurt you to see him and look over -what he has to offer." - -"Your lordship," Minot suggested, "you know that I am your friend and -that my great desire is to see you happily married next week. In order -that nothing may happen to prevent, I think you ought to see--" - -"This impostor," cut in his lordship haughtily. "No, I can not. This -is not the first time adventurers have questioned the Harrowby title. -The dignity of our family demands that I refuse to take any notice -whatsoever." - -"Go on," sneered Trimmer. "Hide behind your dignity. When I get -through with you you won't have enough left to conceal your stick-pin." - -"Trimmer," said Martin Wall, speaking for the first time, "how much -money do you want?" - -Mr. Trimmer kept his temper admirably. - -"Your society has not corrupted me, Mr. Wall," he said sweetly. "I am -not a blackmailer. I am simply a publicity man. I'm working on a -salary which Lord Harrowby--the real Lord Harrowby--is to pay me when -he comes into his own. I've handled successfully in publicity -campaigns prima donnas, pills, erasers, perfumes, holding companies, -race horses, soups and society leaders. It isn't likely that I shall -fall down on this proposition. For the last time, Mr. Allan Harrowby, -will you see your brother?" - -"Lord Harrowby, if I were you--" Minot began. - -"My dear fellow." His lordship raised one slim hand. "It is quite -impossible. Which, I take it, terminates our talk with Mr. Trimmer." - -"Yes," said Mr. Trimmer, rising. "Except for one thing. Our young -friend here, when he urges you to grant my request, is giving a correct -imitation of a wise head on youthful shoulders. He's an American, and -he knows about me--about Henry Trimmer. I guess you never heard, Mr. -Harrowby, what I did for Cotrell's Ink Eraser--" - -"Come on," said Mr. Wall militantly, "erase yourself." - -"For the moment, I will," smiled Mr. Trimmer. "But I warn you, Mr. -Harrowby, you are going to be sorry. You aren't up against any piker -in publicity--no siree. That little sandwich-board stunt of mine last -night was just a starter. I'm going to take the public into -partnership. Put it up to the people--that's my motto." - -"Good day, sir," snapped Lord Harrowby. - -"Put it up to the people. And when I pull off the little trick I -thought of this morning, you're going to get down before me on your -noble knees, and beg off. I warn you. Good day, gentlemen. And may I -add one simple request on parting? Watch Trimmer!" - -He went out, slamming the door behind him. Mr. Wall rose and walked -rapidly toward a decanter. - -"Rather tough on you, Lord Harrowby," he remarked, pouring himself a -drink. "Especially just now. The fresh bounder! Ought to have been -kicked out of the room." - -"An impostor," snorted Harrowby. "A rank impostor." - -"Of course." Mr. Wall set down his glass. "But don't worry. If -Trimmer gets too obstreperous, I'll take care of him myself. I guess -I'll be going back to the yacht." - -After Wall's departure, Minot and Harrowby sat staring at each other -for a long moment. - -"See here, your lordship," said Minot at last. "You know why I'm in -San Marco. That wedding next Tuesday must take place without fail. -And I can't say that I approve of your action just now--" - -"My dear boy," Harrowby interrupted soothingly, "I appreciate your -position. But there was nothing to be gained by seeing Mr. Trimmer's -friend. The Meyricks were distressed, naturally, by that ridiculous -sandwich-board affair last evening, but they have made no move to call -off the wedding on account of it. The best thing to do, I'm sure, is -to let matters take their course. I might be able to prove that chap's -claims false--and then again I mightn't, even if I knew they were -false. And--there is a third possibility." - -"What is that?" - -"He might really be--George." - -"But you said your brother died, twelve years ago." - -"That is what we heard. But--one can not be sure. And, delighted as I -should be to know that George is alive, naturally I should prefer to -know it after next Tuesday." - -Anger surged into Minot's heart. - -"Is that fair to the young lady who--" - -"Who is to become my wife?" Lord Harrowby waved his hand. "It is. -Miss Meyrick is not marrying me for my title. As for her father and -aunt, I can not be so sure. I want no disturbance. You want none. I -am sure it is better to let things take their course." - -"All right," said Minot. "Only I intend to do every thing in my power -to put this wedding through." - -"My dear chap--your cause is mine," answered his lordship. - -Minot returned to the narrow confines of his room. On the bureau, -where he had thrown it earlier in the day, lay an invitation to dine -that night with Mrs. Bruce. Thus was Jack Paddock's hand shown. The -dinner was to be in Miss Meyrick's honor, and Mr. Minot was not sorry -he was to go. He took up the invitation and reread it smilingly. So -he was to hear Mrs. Bruce at her own table--the wittiest hostess in San -Marco--bar none. - -The drowsiness of a Florida midday was in the air. Mr. Minot lay down -on his bed. A hundred thoughts were his: the brown of Miss Meyrick's -eyes, the sincerity of Mr. Trimmer's voice when he spoke of his -proposition, the fishy look of Lord Harrowby refusing to meet his long -lost brother. Things grew hazy. Mr. Minot slept. - -On leaving Lord Harrowby's rooms, Mr. Martin Wall did not immediately -set out for the _Lileth_, on which he lived in preference to the hotel. -Instead he took a brisk turn about the spacious lobby of the De la Pax. - -People turned to look at him as he passed. They noted that his large, -placid, rather jovial face was lighted by an eye sharp and queer, and a -bit out of place amid its surroundings. Mr. Wall considered himself -the true cosmopolite, and his history rather bore out the boast. Many -and odd were the lands that had known him. He had loaned money to a -prince of Algiers (on excellent security), broken bread with a sultan, -organized a baseball nine in Cuba, and coming home from the East via -the Indian ports, had flirted on shipboard with the wife of a Russian -grand duke. As he passed through that cool lobby it was not to be -wondered at that middle west merchants and their wives found him worthy -of a second glance. - -The courtyard of the Hotel de la Pax was fringed by a series of modish -shops, with doors opening both on the courtyard and on the narrow -street outside. Among these, occupying a corner room was the very -smart jewel shop of Ostby and Blake. Occasionally in the winter -resorts of the South one may find jewelry shops whose stock would bear -favorably competition with Fifth Avenue. Ostby and Blake conducted -such an establishment. - -For a moment before the show-window of this shop Mr. Wall paused, and -with the eye of a connoisseur studied the brilliant display within. -His whole manner changed. The air of boredom with which he had -surveyed his fellow travelers of the lobby disappeared; on the instant -he was alert, alive, almost eager. Jauntily he strolled into the store. - -One clerk only--a tall thin man with a sallow complexion and hair the -color of a lemon--was in charge. Mr. Wall asked to be shown the stock -of unset diamonds. - -The trays that the man set before him caused the eyes of Mr. Wall to -brighten still more. With a manner almost reverent he stooped over and -passed his fingers lovingly over the stones. For an instant the tall -man glanced outside, and smiled a sallow smile. A little girl in a -pink dress was crossing the street, and it was at her that he smiled. - -"There's a flaw in that stone," said Mr. Wall, in a voice of sorrow. -"See--" - -From outside came the shrill scream of a child, interrupting. The tall -man turned quickly to the window. - -"My God--" he moaned. - -"What is it?" Mr. Wall sought to look over his shoulder. -"Automobile--" - -"My little girl," cried the clerk in agony. He turned to Martin Wall, -hesitating. His sallow face was white now, his lips trembled. -Doubtfully he gazed into the frank open countenance of Martin Wall. -And then-- - -"I leave you in charge," he shouted, and fled past Mr. Wall to the -street. - -For a moment Martin Wall stood, frozen to the spot. His eyes were -unbelieving; his little Cupid's bow mouth was wide open. - -"Here--come back--" he shouted, when he could find his voice. - -No one heeded. No one heard. Outside in the street a crowd had -gathered. Martin Wall wet his dry lips with his tongue. An -unaccountable shudder swept his huge frame. - -"My God--" he cried in a voice of terror, "I'm alone!" - -For the first time he dared to move. His elbow bumped a hundred -thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds. Frightened, he drew back. -He collided with a show-case rich in emeralds, rubies and aquamarines. -He put out a plump hand to steady himself. It rested on a display case -of French, Russian and Dutch silver. - -Mr. Wall's knees grew weak. He felt a strange prickly sensation all -over him. He took a step--and was staring at the finest display of -black pearls south of Maiden Lane, New York. - -Quickly he turned away. His eyes fell upon the door of a huge safety -vault. It was swinging open! - -Little beads of perspiration began to pop out on the forehead of Martin -Wall. His heart was hammering like that of a youth who sees after a -long separation his lady love. His eyes grew glassy. - -He took out a silk handkerchief and passed it slowly across his damp -forehead. - -Staggering slightly, he stepped again to the trays of unset stones. -The glassy eyes had grown greedy now. He put out one huge hand as the -lover aforesaid might reach toward his lady's hair. - -Then Mr. Wall shut his lips firmly, and thrust both of his hands deep -into his trousers pockets. He stood there in the middle of that -gorgeous room--a fat figure of a man suffering a cruel inhuman agony. - -He was still standing thus when the tall man came running back. -Apprehension clouded that sallow face. - -"It was very kind of you." The small eyes of the clerk darted -everywhere; then came back to Martin Wall. "I'm obliged--why, what's -the matter, sir?" - -Martin Wall passed his hand across his eyes, as a man banishing a -terrible dream. - -"The little girl?" he asked. - -"Hardly a scratch," said the clerk, pointing to the smiling child at -his side. "It was lucky, wasn't it?" He was behind the counter now, -studying the trays unprotected on the show-case. - -"Very lucky." Martin Wall still had to steady himself. "Perhaps you'd -like to look about a bit before I go--" - -"Oh, no, sir. Everything's all right, I'm sure. You were looking at -these stones--" - -"Some other time," said Wall weakly. "I only wanted an idea of what -you had." - -"Good day, sir. And thank you very much." - -"Not at all." And the limp ex-guardian passed unsteadily from the -store into the glare of the street. - -Mr. Tom Stacy, of the Manhattan Club, half dozing on the veranda of his -establishment, was rejoiced to see his old friend Martin Wall crossing -the pavement toward him. - -"Well, Martin--" he began. And then a look of concern came into his -face. "Good lord, man--what ails you?" - -Mr. Wall sank like a wet rag to the steps. - -"Tom," he said, "a terrible thing has just happened. I was left alone -in Ostby and Blake's jewelry shop." - -"Alone?" cried Mr. Stacy. "You--alone?" - -"Absolutely alone." - -Mr. Stacy leaned over. - -"Are you leaving town--in a hurry?" he asked. - -Gloomily Mr. Wall shook his head. - -"He put me on my honor," he complained. "Left me in charge of the -shop. Can you beat it? Of course after that, I--well--you know, -somehow I couldn't do it. I tried, but I couldn't." - -Mr. Stacy threw back his head, and his raucous laughter smote the lazy -summer afternoon. - -"I can't help it," he gasped. "The funniest thing I ever--you--the -best stone thief in America alone in charge of three million dollars' -worth of the stuff!" - -"Good heavens, man," whispered Wall. "Not so loud!" And well might he -protest, for Mr. Stacy's indiscreet and mirthful tone carried far. It -carried, for example, to Mr. Richard Minot, standing hidden behind the -curtains of his little room overhead. - -"Come inside, Martin," said Stacy. "Come inside and have a bracer. -You sure must need it, after that." - -"I do," replied Mr. Wall, in heartfelt tones. He rose and followed Tom -Stacy. - -Cheeks burning, eyes popping, Mr. Minot watched them disappear into the -Manhattan Club. - -Here was news indeed. Lord Harrowby's boon companion the ablest jewel -thief in America! Just what did that mean? - -Putting on coat and hat, he hurried to the hotel office and there wrote -a cablegram: - - -"Situation suspicious are you dead certain H. is on the level?" - - -An hour later, in his London office, Mr. Jephson read this message -carefully three times. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR - -The Villa Jasmine, Mrs. Bruce's winter home, stood in a park of palms -and shrubbery some two blocks from the Hotel de la Pax. Mr. Minot -walked thither that evening in the resplendent company of Jack Paddock. - -"You'll enjoy Mrs. Bruce to-night," Paddock confided. "I've done her -some rather good lines, if I do say it as shouldn't." - -"On what topics?" asked Minot, with a smile. - -"International marriage--jewels--by the way, I don't suppose you know -that Miss Cynthia Meyrick is to appear for the first time wearing the -famous Harrowby necklace?" - -"I didn't even know there was a necklace," Minot returned. - -"Ah, such ignorance. But then, you don't wander much in feminine -society, do you? Mrs. Bruce told me about it this morning. Chain -Lightning's Collar." - -"Chain Lightning's what?" - -"Ah, my boy--" Mr. Paddock lighted a cigarette. "You should go round -more in royal circles. List, commoner, while I relate. It seems that -the Earl of Raybrook is a giddy old sport with a gambling streak a yard -wide. In his young days he loved the Lady Evelyn Hollowway. Lady -Evelyn had a horse entered in a derby about that time--name, Chain -Lightning. And the Earl of Raybrook wagered a diamond necklace against -a kiss that Chain Lightning would lose." - -"Wasn't that giving big odds?" inquired Minot. - -"Not if you believe the stories of Lady Evelyn's beauty. Well, it -happened before Tammany politicians began avenging Ireland on Derby -Day. Chain Lightning won. And the earl came across with the necklace. -Afterward he married Lady Evelyn--" - -"To get back the necklace?" - -"Cynic. And being a rather racy old boy, he referred to the necklace -thereafter as Chain Lightning's Collar. It got to be pretty well known -in England by that name. I believe it is considered a rather neat -piece of jewelry among the English nobility--whose sparklers aren't -what they were before the steel business in Pittsburgh turned out a -good thing." - -"Chain Lightning's Collar," mused Minot. "I presume Lady Evelyn was -the mother of the present Lord Harrowby?" - -"So 'tis rumored," smiled Paddock. "Though I take it his lordship -favors his father in looks." - -They walked along for a moment in silence. The story of this necklace -of diamonds could bring but one thing to Minot's thoughts--Martin Wall -drooping on the steps of the Manhattan Club while old Stacy roared with -joy. He considered. Should he tell Mr. Paddock? No, he decided he -would wait. - -"As I said," Paddock ran on, "you'll enjoy Mrs. Bruce to-night. Her -lines are good, but somehow--it's really a great problem to me--she -doesn't sound human and natural when she gets them off. I looked up -her beauty doctor and asked him if he couldn't put a witty gleam in her -eye, but he told me he didn't care to go that far in correcting Mrs. -Bruce's Maker." - -They had reached the Villa Jasmine now, a great white palace in a -flowery setting more like a dream than a reality. The evening breeze -murmured whisperingly through the palms, a hundred gorgeous colors -shone in the moonlight, fountains splashed coolly amid the greenery. - -"Act Two," muttered Minot. "The grounds surrounding the castle of the -fairy princess." - -"You have to come down here, don't you," replied Paddock, "to realize -that old Mother Nature has a little on Belasco, after all?" - -The whir of a motor behind them caused the two young men to turn. Then -Mr. Minot saw her coming up the path toward him--coming up that -fantastic avenue of palms--tall, fair, white, a lovely figure in a -lovely setting-- - -Ah, yes--Lord Harrowby! He walked at her side, nonchalant, -distinguished, almost as tall as a popular illustrator thinks a man in -evening clothes should be. Truly, they made a handsome couple. They -were to wed. Mr. Minot himself had sworn they were to wed. - -He kept the bitterness from his tone as he greeted them there amid the -soft magic of the Florida night. Together they went inside. In the -center of a magnificent hallway they found Mrs. Bruce standing, like -stout Cortez on his Darien peak, triumphant amid the glory of her gold. - -Mr. Minot thought Mrs. Bruce's manner of greeting somewhat harried and -oppressed. Poor lady, every function was a first night for her. Would -the glare of the footlights frighten her? Would she falter in her -lines--forget them completely? Only her sisters of the stage could -sympathize with her understandingly now. - -"So you are to carry Cynthia away?" Minot heard her saying to Lord -Harrowby. "Such a lot of my friends have married into the peerage. -Indeed, I have sometimes thought you English have no other pastime save -that of slipping engagement rings on hands across the sea." - -A soft voice spoke in Minot's ear. - -"Mine," Mr. Paddock was saying. "Not bad, eh? But look at that -Englishman. Why should I have sat up all last night writing lines to -try on him? Can you tell me that?" - -Lord Harrowby, indeed, seemed oblivious of Mrs. Bruce's little bon mot. -He hemmed and hawed, and said he was a lucky man. But he did not mean -that he was a lucky man because he had the privilege of hearing Mrs. -Bruce. - -Mr. Bruce slipped out of the shadows into the weariness of another -formal dinner. Mrs. Bruce glittered, and he wrote the checks. He was -a scraggly little man who sometimes sat for hours at a time in silence. -There were those unkind enough to say that he sought back, trying to -recall the reason that had led him to marry Mrs. Bruce. - -When he beheld Miss Cynthia Meyrick, and knew that he was to take her -in to dinner, Mr. Bruce brightened perceptibly. None save a blind and -deaf man could have failed to. Cocktails consumed, the party turned -toward the dining-room. Except for the Meyricks, Martin Wall, Lord -Harrowby and Paddock, Dick Minot knew none of them. There were a -couple of colorless men from New York who, when they died, would be -referred to as "prominent club men," a horsy girl from Westchester, an -ex-ambassador's wife and daughter, a number of names from Boston and -Philadelphia with their respective bearers. And last but not least the -two Bond girls from Omaha--blond, lovely, but inclined to be snobbish -even in that company, for their mother was a Van Reypan, and Van -Reypans are rare birds in Omaha and elsewhere. - -Mr. Minot took in the elder of the Bond girls, and found that Cynthia -Meyrick sat on his left. He glanced at her throat as they sat down. -It was bare of ornament. And then he beheld, sparkling in her lovely -hair, the perfect diamonds of Chain Lightning's Collar. As he turned -back to the table he caught the eye of Mr. Martin Wall. Mr. Wall's eye -happened to be coming away from the same locality. - -The girl from Omaha gossiped of plays and players, like a dramatic page -from some old Sunday newspaper. - -"I'm mad about the stage," she confided. "Of course, we get all the -best shows in Omaha. Why, Maxine Elliott and Nat Goodwin come there -every year." - -Mr. Minot, New Yorker, shuddered. Should he tell her of the many and -active years in the lives of these two since they visited any town -together? No. What use? On the other side of him a sweet voice spoke: - -"I presume you know, Mr. Minot, that Mrs. Bruce has the reputation of -being the wittiest hostess in San Marco?" - -"I have heard as much." Minot smiled into Cynthia Meyrick's eyes. -"When does her act go on?" - -Mrs. Bruce was wondering the same thing. She knew her lines; she was -ready. True, she understood few of those lines. Wit was not her -specialty. Until Mr. Paddock took charge of her, she had thought -colored newspaper supplements humorous in the extreme. However, the -lines Mr. Paddock taught her seemed to go well, and she continued to -patronize the old stand. - -She looked up now from her conversation with her dinner partner, and -silence fell as at a curtain ascending. - -"I was just saying to Lord Harrowby," Mrs. Bruce began, smiling about -her, "how picturesque our business streets are here. What with the -Greek merchants in their native costumes--" - -"Bandits, every one of them," growled Mr. Bruce, bravely interrupting. -His wife frowned. - -"Only the other day," she continued, "I bought a rug from a man who -claimed to be a Persian prince. He said it was a prayer-rug, and I -think it must have been, for ever since I got it I've been praying it's -genuine." - -A little ripple of amusement ran about the table. The redoubtable Mrs. -Bruce was under way. People spoke to one another in undertones--little -conversational nudges of anticipation. - -"By the way, Cynthia," the hostess inquired, "have you heard from Helen -Arden lately?" - -"Not for some time," responded Miss Meyrick, "although I have her -promise that she and the duke will be here--next Tuesday." - -"Splendid." Mrs. Bruce turned to his lordship. "I think of Helen, -Lord Harrowby, because she, too, married into your nobility. Her -father made his money in sausage in the Middle West. In his youth he'd -had trouble in finding a pair of ready-made trousers, but as soon as -the money began to roll in, Helen started to look him up a coat of -arms. And a family motto. I remember suggesting at the time, in view -of the sausage: 'A family is no stronger than its weakest link.'" - -Mrs. Bruce knew when to pause. She paused now. The ripple became an -outright laugh. Mr. Paddock sipped languorously from his wine-glass. -He saw that his lines "got over." - -"Went into society head foremost, Helen did," Mrs. Bruce continued. -"Thought herself a clever amateur actress. Used to act often for -charity--though I don't recall that she ever got it." - -"The beauty of Mrs. Bruce's wit," said Miss Meyrick in Mr. Minot's ear, -"is that it is so unconscious. She doesn't appear to realize when she -has said a good thing." - -"There's just a chance that she doesn't realize it," suggested Minot. - -"Then Helen met the Duke of Lismore," Mrs. Bruce was speaking once -more. "Perhaps you know him, Lord Harrowby?" - -"No--er--sorry to say I don't--" - -"A charming chap. In some ways. Helen was a Shavian in considering -marriage the chief pursuit of women. She pursued. Followed Lismore to -Italy, where he proposed. I presume he thought that being in Rome, he -must do as the Romeos do." - -"But, my dear lady," said Harrowby in a daze, "isn't it the Romans?" - -"Isn't what the Romans?" asked Mrs. Bruce blankly. - -"Your lordship is correct," said Mr. Paddock hastily. "Mrs. Bruce -misquoted purposely--in jest, you know. Jibe--japery." - -"Oh--er--pardon me," returned his lordship. - -"I saw Helen in London last spring," Mrs. Bruce went on. "She confided -to me that she considers her husband a genius. And if genius really be -nothing but an infinite capacity for taking champagnes, I am sure the -poor child is right." - -Little murmurs of joy, and the dinner proceeded. The guests bent over -their food, shipped to Mrs. Bruce in a refrigerating car from New York, -and very little wearied by its long trip. Here and there two talked -together. It was like an intermission between the acts. - -Mr. Minot turned to the Omaha girl. Even though she was two wives -behind on Mr. Nat Goodwin's career, one must be polite. - -It was at the close of the dinner that Mrs. Bruce scored her most -telling point. She and Lord Harrowby were conversing about a famous -English author, and when she was sure she had the attention of the -table, she remarked: - -"Yes, we met his wife at the Masonbys'. But I have always felt that -the wife of a celebrity is like the coupon on one's railway ticket." - -"How's that, Mrs. Bruce?" Minot inquired. After all, Paddock had been -kind to him. - -"Not good if detached," said Mrs. Bruce. - -She stood. Her guests followed suit. It was by this bon mot that she -chose to have her dinner live in the gossip of San Marco. Hence with -it she closed the ceremony. - -"Witty woman, your wife," said one of the colorless New Yorkers to Mr. -Bruce, when the men were left alone. - -Mr. Bruce only grunted, but Mr. Paddock answered brightly: - -"Do you really think so?" - -"Yes. Don't you?" - -"Why--er--really--" Mr. Paddock blushed. Modest author, he. - -A servant appeared to say that Lord Harrowby was wanted at once -outside, and excusing himself, Harrowby departed. He found his valet, -a plump, round-faced, serious man, waiting in the shadows on the -veranda. For a time they talked together in low tones. When Harrowby -returned to the dining-room, his never cheerful face was even gloomier -than usual. - -Spencer Meyrick and Bruce, exiles both of them, talked joyously of -business and the rush of the day's work for which both longed. The New -York man and a sapling from Boston conversed of chamber music. Martin -Wall sat silent, contemplative. Perhaps had he spoken his thoughts -they would have been of a rich jewel shop at noon--deserted. - -A half-hour later Mrs. Bruce's dinner-party was scattered among the -palms and flowers of her gorgeous lawn. Mr. Minot had fallen again to -the elder girl from Omaha, and blithely for her he was displaying his -Broadway ignorance of horticulture. Suddenly out of the night came a -scream. Instantly when he heard it, Mr. Minot knew who had uttered it. - -Unceremoniously he parted from the Omaha beauty and sped over the lawn. -But quick as he was, Lord Harrowby was quicker. For when Minot came -up, he saw Harrowby bending over Miss Meyrick, who sat upon a wicker -bench. - -"Cynthia--what is it?" Harrowby was saying. - -Cynthia Meyrick felt wildly of her shining hair. - -"Your necklace," she gasped. "Chain Lightning's Collar. He took it! -He took it!" - -"Who?" - -"I don't know. A man!" - -"A man!" Reverent repetition by feminine voices out of the excited -group. - -"He leaped out at me there--by that tree--pinioned my arms--snatched -the necklace. I couldn't see his face. It happened in the shadow." - -"No matter," Harrowby replied. "Don't give it another thought, my -child." - -"But how can I help--" - -"I shall telephone the police at once," announced Spencer Meyrick. - -"I beg you'll do nothing of the sort," expostulated Lord Harrowby. "It -would be a great inconvenience--the thing wasn't worth the publicity -that would result. I insist that the police be kept out of this." - -Argument--loud on Mr. Meyrick's part--ensued. Suggestions galore were -offered by the guests. But in the end Lord Harrowby had his way. It -was agreed not to call in the police. - -Mr. Minot, looking up, saw a sneering smile on the face of Martin Wall. -In a flash he knew the truth. - -With Aunt Mary calling loudly for smelling salts, and the whole party -more or less in confusion, the return to the house started. Mr. -Paddock walked at Minot's side. - -"Rather looks as though Chain Lightning's Collar had choked off our -gaiety," he mumbled. "Serves her right for wearing the thing in her -hair. She spoiled two corking lines for me by not wearing it where -you'd naturally expect a necklace to be worn." - -Minot maneuvered so as to intercept Lord Harrowby under the portico. - -"May I speak with you a moment?" he inquired. Harrowby bowed, and they -stepped into the shadows of the drive. - -"Lord Harrowby," said Minot, trying to keep the excitement from his -voice, "I have certain information about one of the guests here this -evening that I believe would interest you. Your lordship has been -badly buffaloed. One of our fellow diners at Mrs. Bruce's table holds -the title of the ablest jewel thief in America!" - -He watched keenly to catch Lord Harrowby's start of surprise. Alas, he -caught nothing of the sort. - -"Nonsense," said his lordship nonchalantly. "You mustn't let your -imagination carry you away, dear chap." - -"Imagination nothing! I know what I'm talking about." And then Minot -added sarcastically: "Sorry to bore you with this." - -His lordship laughed. - -"Right-o, old fellow. I'm not interested." - -"But haven't you just lost--" - -"A diamond necklace? Yes." They had reached a particularly dark and -secluded spot beneath the canopy of palm leaves. Harrowby turned -suddenly and put his hands on Minot's shoulders. "Mr. Minot," he said, -"you are here to see that nothing interferes with my marriage to Miss -Meyrick. I trust you are determined to do your duty to your employers?" - -"Absolutely. That is why--" - -"Then," replied Harrowby quickly, "I am going to ask you to take charge -of this for me." - -Suddenly Minot felt something cold and glassy in his hand. Startled, -he looked down. Even in the dark, Chain Lightning's Collar sparkled -like the famous toy that it was. - -"Your lordship!--" - -"I can not explain now. I can only tell you it is quite necessary that -you help me at this time. If you wish to do your full duty by Mr. -Jephson." - -"Who took this necklace from Miss Meyrick's hair?" asked Minot hotly. - -"I did. I assure you it was the only way to prevent our plans from -going awry. Please keep it until I ask you for it." - -And turning, Lord Harrowby walked rapidly toward the house. - -"The brute!" Angrily Mr. Minot stood turning the necklace over in his -hand. "So he frightened the girl he is to marry--the girl he is -supposed to love--" - -What should he do? Go to her, and tell her of Harrowby's amiable -eccentricities? He could hardly do that--Harrowby had taken him into -his confidence--and besides there was Jephson of the great bald head, -the Peter Pan eyes. Nothing to do but wait. - -Returning to the hotel from Mrs. Bruce's villa, he found awaiting him a -cable from Jephson. The cable assured him that beyond any question the -man in San Marco was Allan Harrowby and, like Cæsar's wife, above -suspicion. - -Yet even as he read, Lord Harrowby walked through the lobby, and at his -side was Mr. James O'Malley, house detective of the Hotel de la Pax. -They came from the manager's office, where they had evidently been -closeted. - -With the cablegram in his hand, Minot entered the elevator and ascended -to his room. The other hand was in the pocket of his top coat, closed -tightly upon Chain Lightning's Collar--the bauble that the Earl of -Raybrook had once wagered against a kiss. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS - -Mr. Minot opened his eyes on Thursday morning with the uncomfortable -feeling that he was far from his beloved New York. For a moment he lay -dazed, wandering in that dim borderland between sleep and waking. -Then, suddenly, he remembered. - -"Oh, yes, by jove," he muttered, "I've been knighted. Groom of the -Back-Stairs Scandals and Keeper of the Royal Jewels--that's me." - -He lifted his pillow. There on the white sheet sparkled the necklace -of which the whole British nobility was proud--Chain Lightning's -Collar. Some seventy-five blue-white diamonds, pear-shaped, perfectly -graduated. His for the moment! - -"What's Harrowby up to, I wonder?" he reflected "The dear old top! -Nice, pleasant little party if a policeman should find this in my -pocket." - -Another perfect day shone in that narrow Spanish street. Up in -Manhattan theatrical press agents were crowning huge piles of snow with -posters announcing their attractions. Ferries were held up by ice in -the river. A breeze from the Arctic swept round the Flatiron building. -Here lazy summer lolled on the bosom of the town. - -In the hotel dining-room Mr. Minot encountered Jack Paddock, superb in -white flannels above his grapefruit. He accepted Paddock's invitation -to join him. - -"By the way," said Mrs. Bruce's jester, holding up a small, badly -printed newspaper, "have you made the acquaintance of the _San Marco -Mail_ yet?" - -"No--what's that?" - -"A morning newspaper--by courtesy. Started here a few weeks back by a -noiseless little Spaniard from Havana named Manuel Gonzale. Slipped in -here on his rubber soles, Gonzale did--dressed all in white--lovely -lemon face--shifty, can't-catch-me eyes. And his newspaper--hot stuff, -my boy. It has Town Topics looking like a consular report from -Greenland." - -"Scandals?" asked Mr. Minot, also attacking a grapefruit. - -"Scandals and rumors of scandals. Mostly hints, you know. Several -references this morning to our proud and haughty friend, Lord Harrowby. -For example, Madame On Dit, writing in her column, on page one, has -this to say: 'The impecunious but titled Englishman who has arrived in -our midst recently with the idea of connecting with certain American -dollars has an interesting time ahead of him, if rumor speaks true. -The little incident in the lobby of a local hotel the other -evening--which was duly reported in this column at the time--was but a -mild beginning. The gentleman in charge of the claimant to the title -held so jealously by our British friend promises immediate developments -which will be rich, rare and racy.'" - -"Rich, rare and racy," repeated Minot thoughtfully. "Ah, yes--we were -to watch Mr. Trimmer. I had almost forgot him in the excitement of -last evening. By the way, does the _Mail_ know anything about the -disappearance of Chain Lightning's Collar?" - -"Not as yet," smiled Mr. Paddock, "although Madame On Dit claims to -have been a guest at the dinner. By the way, what do you make of last -night's melodramatic farce?" - -"I don't know what to make of it," answered Minot truthfully. He was -suddenly conscious of the necklace in his inside coat pocket. - -"Then all I can say, my dear Watson," replied Mr. Paddock with -burlesque seriousness, "is that you are unmistakably lacking in my -powers of deduction. Give me a cigarette, and I'll tell you the name -of the man who is gloating over those diamonds to-day." - -"All right," smiled Minot. "Go ahead." - -Mr. Paddock, reaching for a match tray, spoke in a low tone in Minot's -ear. - -"Martin Wall," he said. He leaned back. "You ask how I arrived at my -conclusion. Simple enough. I went through the list of guests for -possible crooks, and eliminated them one by one. The man I have -mentioned alone was left. Ever notice his eyes--remind me of Manuel -Gonzale's. He's too polished, too slick, too good to be true. He's -traveled too much--nobody travels as much as he has except for the very -good reason that a detective is on the trail. And he made friends with -simple old Harrowby on an Atlantic liner--that, if you read popular -fiction, is alone enough to condemn him. Believe me, Dick, Martin Wall -should be watched." - -"All right," laughed Minot, "you watch him." - -"I've a notion to. Harrowby makes me weary. Won't call in a solitary -detective. Any one might think he doesn't want the necklace back." - -After breakfast Minot and Paddock played five sets of tennis on the -hotel courts. And Mr. Minot won, despite the Harrowby diamonds in his -trousers pocket, weighing him down. Luncheon over, Mr. Paddock -suggested a drive to Tarragona Island. - -"A little bit of nowhere a mile off-shore," he said. "No man can ever -know the true inwardness of the word lonesome until he's seen -Tarragona." - -Minot hesitated. Ought he to leave the scene of action? Of action? -He glanced about him. There was less action here than in a Henry James -novel. The tangle of events in which he was involved rested for a -siesta. - -So he and Mr. Paddock drove along the narrow neck of land that led from -the mainland to Tarragona Island. They entered the kingdom of the -lonely. Sandy beach with the ocean on one side, swamps on the other. -Scrubby palms, disreputable foliage, here and there a cluster of -seemingly deserted cottages--the world and its works apparently a -million miles away. Yet out on one corner of that bleak forgotten acre -stood the slim outline of a wireless, and in a little white house lived -a man who, amid the sea-gulls and the sand-dunes, talked daily with -great ships and cities far away. - -"I told you it was lonesome," said Mr. Paddock. - -"Lonesome," shivered Minot. "Even God has forgot this place. Only -Marconi has remembered." - -And even as they wandered there amid the swamps, where alligators and -rattlesnakes alone saw fit to dwell, back in San Marco the capable Mr. -Trimmer was busy. By poster and by hand-bill he was spreading word of -his newest coup, so that by evening no one in town--save the few who -were most concerned--was unaware of a development rich, rare and racy. - -Minot and Paddock returned late, and their dinner was correspondingly -delayed. It was eight-thirty o'clock when they at last strolled into -the lobby of the De la Pax. There they encountered Miss Meyrick, her -father and Lord Harrowby. - -"We're taking Harrowby to the movies," said Miss Meyrick. "He -confesses he's never been. Won't you come along?" - -She was one of her gay selves to-night, white, slim, laughing, -irresistible. Minot, looking at her, thought that she could make even -Tarragona Island bearable. He knew of no greater tribute to her charm. - -The girl and Harrowby led the way, and Minot and Paddock followed with -Spencer Meyrick. The old man was an imposing figure in his white serge, -which accentuated the floridness of his face. He talked of an -administration that did not please him, of a railroad fallen on evil -days. Now and again he paused and seemed to lose the thread of what he -was saying, while his eyes dwelt on his daughter, walking ahead. - -They arrived shortly at the San Marco Opera-House, devoted each evening -to three acts of "refined vaudeville" and six of the newest film -releases. It was here that the rich loitering in San Marco found their -only theatrical amusement, and forgetting Broadway, laughed and were -thrilled with simpler folk. A large crowd was fairly fighting to get -in and Mr. Paddock, who volunteered to buy the tickets, was forced to -take his place at the end of a long line. - -Finally they reached the dim interior of the opera-house, and were -shown to seats far down in front. By hanging back in the dusk Minot -managed to secure the end seat, with Miss Meyrick at his side. Beyond -her sat Lord Harrowby, gazing with rapt British seriousness at the -humorous film that was being flashed on the screen. - -Between pictures Harrowby offered an opinion. - -"You in America are a jolly lot," he said. "Just fancy our best people -in England attending a cinematograph exhibition." - -They tried to fancy it, but with his lordship there, they couldn't. -Two more pictures ran their filmy lengths, while Mr. Minot sat -entranced there in the half dark. It was not the pictures that -entranced him. Rather, was it a lady's nearness, the flash of her -smile, the hundred and one tones of her voice--all, all again as it had -been in that ridiculous automobile--just before the awakening. - -After the third picture the lights of the auditorium were turned up, -and the hour of vaudeville arrived. On to the stage strolled a pert -confident youth garbed in shabby grandeur, who attempted sidewalk -repartee. He clipped his jests from barber-shop periodicals, bought -his songs from an ex-barroom song writer, and would have gone to the -mat with any one who denied that his act was "refined." Mr. Minot, -listening to his gibes, thought of the Paddock jest factory and Mrs. -Bruce. - -When the young man had wrung the last encore from a kindly audience, -the drop-curtain was raised and revealed on the stage in gleaming -splendor Captain Ponsonby's troupe of trained seals. An intelligent -aggregation they proved, balancing balls on their small heads, juggling -flaming torches, and taking as their just due lumps of sugar from the -captain's hand as they finished each feat. The audience recalled them -again and again, and even the peerage was captivated. - -"Clever beasts, aren't they?" Lord Harrowby remarked. And as Captain -Ponsonby took his final curtain, his lordship added: - -"Er--what follows the trained seals?" - -The answer to Harrowby's query came almost immediately, and a startling -answer it proved to be. - -Into the glare of the footlights stepped Mr. Henry Trimmer. His manner -was that of the conquering hero. For a moment he stood smiling and -bowing before the approving multitude. Then he raised a hand -commanding silence. - -"My dear friends," he said, "I appreciate this reception. As I said in -my handbill of this afternoon, I am working in the interests of -justice. The gentleman who accompanies me to your delightful little -city is beyond any question whatsoever George Harrowby, the eldest son -of the Earl of Raybrook, and as such he is entitled to call himself -Lord Harrowby. I know the American people well enough to feel sure -that when they realize the facts they will demand that justice be done. -That is why I have prevailed upon Lord Harrowby to meet you here in -this, your temple of amusement, and put his case before you. His -lordship will talk to you for a time with a view to getting acquainted. -He has chosen for the subject of his discourse The Old Days at Rakedale -Hall. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to introduce--the real -Lord Harrowby." - -Out of the wings shuffled the lean and gloomy Englishman whom Mr. -Trimmer had snatched from the unknown to cloud a certain wedding-day. -The applause burst forth. It shook the building. From the gallery -descended a shrill penetrating whistle of acclaim. - -Mr. Minot glanced at the face of the girl beside him. She was looking -straight ahead, her cheeks bright red, her eyes flashing with anger. -Beyond, the face of Harrowby loomed, frozen, terrible. - -"Shall we--go?" Minot whispered. - -"By no means," the girl answered. "We should only call attention to -our presence here. I know at least fifty people in this audience. We -must see it through." - -The applause was stilled at last and, supremely fussed, the "real Lord -Harrowby" faced that friendly throng. - -"Dear--er--people," he said. "As Mr. Trimmer has told you, we seek -only justice. I am not here to argue my right to the title I -claim--that I can do at the proper time and place. I am simply -proposing to go back--back into the past many years--back to the days -when I was a boy at Rakedale Hall. I shall picture those days as no -impostor could picture them--and when I have done I shall allow you to -judge." - -And there in that crowded little southern opera-house on that hot -February night, the actor who followed the trained seals proceeded to -go back. With unfaltering touch he sketched for his audience the great -stone country seat called Rakedale Hall, where for centuries the -Harrowbys had dwelt. It was as though he took his audience there to -visit--through the massive iron gates up the broad avenue bordered with -limes, until the high chimneys, the pointed gables, the mullioned -windows, and the walls half hidden by ivy, creeping roses and -honeysuckles were revealed to them. He took them through the house to -the servants' quarters--which he called "the offices"--out into the -kitchen gardens, thence to the paved quadrangle of the stables with its -arched gateway and the chiming clock above. Tennis-courts, -grape-houses, conservatories, they visited breathlessly; they saw over -the brow of the hill the low square tower of the old church and the -chimneys of the vicar's modest house. And far away, they beheld the -trees that furnished cover to the little beasts it was the Earl of -Raybrook's pleasure to hunt in the season. - -Becoming more specific, he spoke of the neighbors, and a bit of romance -crept in in the person of the fair-haired Honorable Edith Townshend, -who lived to the west of Rakedale Hall. He described at length the -picturesque personality of the "racing parson," neighbor on the south, -and in full accord with the ideas of the sporting Earl of Raybrook. - -The events of his youth, he said, crowded back upon him as he recalled -this happy scene, and emotion well-nigh choked him. However, he -managed to tell of a few of the celebrities who came to dinner, of -their bon mots, their preferences in cuisine. He mentioned the -thrilling morning when he was nearly drowned in the brook that skirted -the "purple meadow"; also the thrilling afternoon when he hid his -mother's famous necklace in the biscuit box on the sideboard, and upset -a whole household. And he narrated a dozen similar exploits, each -garnished with small illuminating details. - -His audience sat fascinated. All who listened felt that his words rang -true--even Lord Harrowby himself, sitting far forward, his hand -gripping the seat in front of him, until the white of his knuckles -showed through. - -Next the speaker shifted his scene to Eton, thrilled his hearers with -the story of his revolt against Oxford, of his flight to the States, -his wild days in Arizona. And he pulled out of his pocket a letter -written by the old Earl of Raybrook himself, profanely expostulating -with him for his madness, and begging that he return to ascend to the -earldom when the old man was no more. - -The "real Lord Harrowby" finished reading this somewhat pathetic appeal -with a little break in his voice, and stood looking out at the audience. - -"If my brother Allan himself were in the house," he said, "he would -have to admit that it is our father speaking in that letter." - -A rustle of interest ran through the auditorium. The few who had -recognized Harrowby turned to stare at him now. For a moment he sat -silent, his face a variety of colors in the dim light. Then with a cry -of rage he leaped to his feet. - -"You stole that letter, you cur," he cried. "You are a liar, a fraud, -an impostor." - -The man on the stage stood shading his eyes with his hand. - -"Ah, Allan," he answered, "so you are here, after all? Is that quite -the proper greeting--after all these years?" - -A roar of sympathetic applause greeted this sally. There was no doubt -as to whose side Mr. Trimmer's friend, the public, was on. Harrowby -stood in his place, his lips twitching, his eyes for once blazing and -angry. - -Dick Minot was by this time escorting Miss Meyrick up the aisle, and -they came quickly to the cool street. Harrowby, Paddock and Spencer -Meyrick followed immediately. His lordship was most contrite. - -"A thousand pardons," he pleaded. "Really I can't tell you how sorry I -am, Cynthia. To have made you conspicuous--what was I thinking of? -But he maddened me--I--" - -"Don't worry, Allan," said Miss Meyrick gently. "I like you the better -for being maddened." - -Old Spencer Meyrick said nothing, but Minot noted that his face was -rather red, and his eyes were somewhat dangerous. They all walked back -to the hotel in silence. - -From the hotel lobby, as if by prearrangement, Harrowby followed Miss -Meyrick and her father into a parlor. Minot and Paddock were left -alone. - -"My word, old top," said Mr. Paddock facetiously, "a rough night for -the nobility. What do you think? That lad's story sounded like a -little bit of all right to me. Eh, what?" - -"It did sound convincing," returned the troubled Minot. "But then--a -servant at Rakedale Hall could have concocted it." - -"Mayhap," said Mr. Paddock. "However, old Spencer Meyrick looked to me -like a volcano I'd want to get out from under. Poor old Harrowby! I'm -afraid there's a rift within the loot--nay, no loot at all." - -"Jack," said Minot firmly, "that wedding has got to take place." - -"Why, what's it to you?" - -"It happens to be everything. But keep it under your hat." - -"Great Scott--does Harrowby owe you money?" - -"I can't explain just at present, Jack." - -"Oh, very well," replied Mr. Paddock. "But take it from me, old -man--she's a million times too good for him." - -"A million," laughed Mr. Minot bitterly. "You underestimate." - -Paddock stood staring with wonder at his friend. - -"You lisp in riddles, my boy," he said. - -"Do I?" returned Minot. "Maybe some day I'll make it all clear." - -He parted from Paddock and ascended to the third floor. As he wandered -through the dark passageways in search of his room, he bumped suddenly -into a heavy man, walking softly. Something about the contour of the -man in the dark gave him a suggestion. - -"Good evening, Mr. Wall," he said. - -The scurry of hurrying footsteps, but no answer. Minot went on to 389, -and placed his key in the lock. It would not turn. He twisted the -knob of the door--it was unlocked. He stepped inside and flashed on -the light. - -His small abode was in a mad disorder. The chiffonier drawers had been -emptied on the floor, the bed was torn to pieces, the rug thrown in a -corner. Minot smiled to himself. - -Some one had been searching--searching for Chain Lightning's Collar. -Who? Who but the man he had bumped against in that dark passageway? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -"WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" - -As Dick Minot bent over to pick up his scattered property, a knock -sounded on the half-open door, and Lord Harrowby drooped in. The -nobleman was gloom personified. He threw himself despondently down on -the bed. - -"Minot, old chap," he drawled, "it's all over." His eyes took in the -wreckage. "Eh? What the deuce have you been doing, old boy?" - -"I haven't been doing anything," Minot answered. "But others have been -busy. While we were at the--er--theater, fond fingers have been -searching for Chain Lightning's Collar." - -"The devil! You haven't lost it?" - -"No--not yet, I believe." Minot took the envelope from his pocket and -drew out the gleaming necklace. "Ah, it's still safe--" - -Harrowby leaped from the bed and slammed shut the door. - -"Dear old boy," he cried, "keep the accursed thing in your pocket. No -one must see it. I say, who's been searching here? Do you think it -could have been O'Malley?" - -"What is O'Malley's interest in your necklace?" - -"Some other time, please. Sorry to inconvenience you with the thing. -Do hang on to it, won't you? Awful mix-up if you didn't. Bad mix-up -as it is. As I said when I came in, it's all over." - -"What's all over?" - -"Everything. The marriage--my chance for happiness--Minot, I'm a most -unlucky chap. Meyrick has just postponed the wedding in a frightfully -loud tone of voice." - -"Postponed it?" Sad news for Jephson this, yet as he spoke Mr. Minot -felt a thrill of joy in his heart. He smiled the pleasantest smile he -had so far shown San Marco. - -"Exactly. He was fearfully rattled, was Meyrick. My word, how he did -go on. Considers his daughter humiliated by the antics of that -creature we saw on the stage to-night. Can't say I blame him, either. -The wedding is indefinitely postponed, unless that impostor is removed -from the scene immediately." - -"Oh--unless," said Minot. His heart sank. His smile vanished. - -"Unless was the word, I fancy," said Harrowby, blinking wisely. - -"Lord Harrowby," Minot began, "you intimated the other day that this -man might really be your brother--" - -"No," Harrowby broke in. "Impossible. I got a good look at the chap -to-night. He's no more a Harrowby than you are." - -"You give me your word for that?" - -"Absolutely. Even after twenty years of America no Harrowby would drag -his father's name on to the vaudeville stage. No, he is an impostor, -and as such he deserves no consideration whatever. And by the by, -Minot--you will note that the postponement is through no fault of mine." - -Minot made a wry face. - -"I have noted it," he said. "In other words, I go on to the stage -now--following the man who followed the trained seals. I thought my -role was that of Cupid, but it begins to look more like Captain Kidd. -Ah, well--I'll do my best." He stood up. "I'm going out into the soft -moonlight for a little while, Lord Harrowby. While I'm gone you might -call Spencer Meyrick up and ask him to do nothing definite in the way -of postponement until he hears from me--us--er--you." - -"Splendid of you, really," said Harrowby enthusiastically, as Minot -held open the door for him. "I had the feeling I could fall back on -you." - -"And I have the feeling that you've fallen," smiled Minot. "So -long--better wait up for my report." - -Fifteen minutes later, seated in a small rowboat on the starry waters -of the harbor, Minot was loudly saluting the yacht _Lileth_. Finally -Mr. Martin Wall appeared at the rail. - -"Well--what d'you want?" he demanded. - -"A word with you, Mr. Wall," Minot answered. "Will you be good enough -to let down your accommodation ladder?" - -For a moment Wall hesitated. And Minot, watching him, knew why he -hesitated. He suspected that the young man in the tiny boat there on -the calm bright waters had come to repay a call earlier in the -evening--a call made while the host was out. At last he decided to let -down the ladder. - -"Glad to see you," he announced genially as Minot came on deck. - -"Awfully nice of you to say that," Minot laughed. "Reassures me. -Because I've heard there are sharks in these waters." - -They sat down in wicker chairs on the forward deck. Minot stared at -the cluster of lights that was San Marco by night. - -"Corking view you have of that tourist-haunted town," he commented. - -"Ah--yes," Mr. Wall's queer eyes narrowed. "Did you row out here to -tell me that?" he inquired. - -"A deserved rebuke," Minot returned. "Time flies, and my errand is a -pressing one. Am I right in assuming, Mr. Wall, that you are Lord -Harrowby's friend?" - -"I am." - -"Good. Then you will want to help him in the very serious difficulty -in which he now finds himself. Mr. Wall, the man who calls himself the -real Lord Harrowby made his debut on a vaudeville stage to-night." - -"So I've heard," said Wall, with a short laugh. - -"Lord Harrowby's fiancée and her father are greatly disturbed. They -insist that this impostor must be removed from the scene at once, or -there will be no wedding. Mr. Wall--it is up to you and me to remove -him." - -"Just what is your interest in the matter?" Wall inquired. - -"The same as yours. I am Harrowby's friend. Now, Mr. Wall, this is -the situation as I see it--wanted, board and room in a quiet -neighborhood for Mr. George Harrowby. Far from the street-cars, the -vaudeville stage, the wedding march and other disturbing elements. And -what is more, I think I've found the quiet neighborhood. I think it's -right here aboard the _Lileth_." - -"Oh--indeed!" - -"Yes. A simple affair to arrange, Mr. Wall. Trimmer and his live -proposition are just about due for their final appearance of the night -at the opera-house right now. I will call at the stage door and lead -Mr. Trimmer away after his little introductory speech. I will keep him -away until you and a couple of your sailors--I suggest the two I met so -informally in the North River--have met the vaudeville lord at the -stage door and gently, but firmly, persuaded him to come aboard this -boat." - -Mr. Wall regarded Minot with a cynical smile. - -"A clever scheme," he said. "What would you say was the penalty for -kidnaping in this state?" - -"Oh, why look it up?" asked Minot carelessly. "Surely Martin Wall is -not afraid of a backwoods constable." - -"What do you mean by that, my boy?" said Wall, with an ugly stare. - -"What do you think I mean?" Minot smiled back. "I'd be very glad to -take the role I've assigned you--I can't help feeling that it will be -more entertaining than the one I have. The difficulty in the way is -Trimmer. I believe I am better fitted to engage his attention. I know -him better than you do, and he trusts me--begging your pardon--further." - -"He did give me a nasty dig," said Wall, flaming at the recollection. -"The noisy mountebank! Well, my boy, your young enthusiasm has won me. -I'll do what I can." - -"And you can do a lot. Watch me until you see me lead Trimmer away. -Then get his pet. I'll steer Trimmer somewhere near the beach, and -keep an eye on the _Lileth_. When you get George safely aboard, wave a -red light in the bow. Then Trimmer and I shall part company for the -night." - -"I'm on," said Wall, rising. "Anything to help Harrowby. And--this -won't be the first time I've waited at the stage door." - -"Right-o," said Minot. "But don't stop to buy a champagne supper for a -trained seal, will you? I don't want to have to listen to Mr. Trimmer -all night." - -They rowed ashore in company with two husky members of the yacht's -crew, and ten minutes later Minot was walking with the pompous Mr. -Trimmer through the quiet plaza. He had told that gentleman that he -came from Allan Harrowby to talk terms, and Trimmer was puffed with -pride accordingly. - -"So Mr. Harrowby has come to his senses at last," he said. "Well, I -thought this vaudeville business would bring him round. Although I -must say I'm a bit disappointed--down in my heart. My publicity -campaign has hardly started. I had so many lovely little plans for the -future--say, it makes me sad to win so soon." - -"Sorry," laughed Minot. "Lord Harrowby, however, deems it best to call -a halt. He suggests--" - -"Pardon me," interrupted Mr. Trimmer grandiloquently. "As the victor -in the contest, I shall do any suggesting that is done. And what I -suggest is this--to-morrow morning I shall call upon Allan Harrowby at -his hotel. I shall bring George with me, also some newspaper friends -of mine. In front of the crowd Allan Harrowby must acknowledge his -brother as the future heir to the earldom of Raybrook." - -"Why the newspaper men?" Minot inquired. - -"Publicity," said Trimmer. "It's the breath of life to me--my -business, my first love, my last. Frankly, I want all the -advertisement out of this thing I can get. At what hour shall we call?" - -"You would not consider a delay of a few days?" Minot asked. - -"Save your breath," advised Trimmer promptly. - -"Ah--I feared it," laughed Minot. "Well then--shall we say eleven -o'clock? You are to call--with George Harrowby." - -"Eleven it is," said Trimmer. They had reached a little park by the -harbor's edge. Trimmer looked at his watch. "And that being all -settled, I'll run back to the theater." - -"I myself have advised Harrowby to surrender--" Minot began. - -"Wise boy. Good night," said Trimmer, moving away. - -"Not that I have been particularly impressed by your standing as a -publicity man," continued Minot. - -Mr. Trimmer stopped in his tracks. - -"As a matter of fact," went on Minot. "I never heard of you or any of -the things you claim to have advertised, until I came to San Marco." - -Mr. Trimmer came slowly back up the grave walk. - -"In just what inland hamlet, untouched by telegraph, telephone, -newspaper and railroad," he asked, "have you been living?" - -Minot dropped to a handy bench, and smiled up into Mr. Trimmer's thin -face. - -"New York City," he replied. - -Mr. Trimmer glanced back at the lights of San Marco, hesitatingly. -Then--it was really a cruel temptation--he sat down beside Minot on the -bench. - -"Do you mean to tell me," he inquired, "that you lived in New York two -years ago and didn't hear of Cotrell's Ink Eraser?" - -"Such was my unhappy fate," smiled Minot. - -"Then you were in Ludlow Street jail, that's all I've got to say," -Trimmer replied. "Why, man--what I did for that eraser is famous. I -rigged up a big electric sign in Times Square and all night long I had -an electric Cotrell's erasing indiscreet sentences--the kind of things -people write when they get foolish with their fountain pens--for -instance--'I hereby deed to Tottie Footlights all my real and personal -property'--and the like. It took the town by storm. Theatrical -managers complained that people preferred to stand and look at my sign -rather than visit the shows. Can you look me in the eye and say that -you never saw that sign?" - -"Well," Minot answered, "I begin to remember a little about it now." - -"Of course you do." Mr. Trimmer gave him a congratulatory slap on the -knee. "And if you think hard, probably you can recall my neat little -stunt of the prima donna and the cough drops. I want to tell you about -that--" - -He spoke with fervor. The story of his brave deeds rose high to -shatter the stars apart. A half-hour passed while his picturesque -reminiscences flowed on. Mr. Minot sat enraptured--his eyes on the -harbor where the _Lileth_, like a painted ship, graced a painted ocean. - -"My boy," Trimmer was saying, "I have made the public stop, look and -listen. When I get my last publicity in the shape of an 'In Memoriam' -let them run that tag on my headstone. And the story of me that I -guess will be told longest after I am gone, is the one about the grape -juice that I--" - -He paused. His audience was not listening; he felt it intuitively. -Mr. Minot sat with his eyes on the _Lileth_. In the bow of that -handsome boat a red light had been waved three times. - -"Mr. Trimmer," Minot said, "your tales are more interesting than the -classics." He stood. "Some other time I hope to hear a continuation -of them. Just at present Lord Harrowby--or Mr. if you prefer--is -waiting to hear what arrangement I have made with you. You must pardon -me." - -"I can talk as we walk along," said Trimmer, and proved it. In the -middle of the deserted plaza they separated. At the dark stage door of -the opera-house Trimmer sought his proposition. - -"Who d'yer mean?" asked the lone stage-hand there. - -"George, Lord Harrowby," insisted Mr. Trimmer. - -"Oh--that bum actor. Seen him going away a while back with two men -that called for him." - -"Bum actor!" cried Trimmer indignantly. He stopped. "Two men--who -were they?" - -The stage-hand asked profanely how he could know that, and Mr. Trimmer -hurriedly departed for the side-street boarding-house where he and his -fallen nobleman shared a suite. - -About the same time Dick Minot blithely entered Lord Harrowby's -apartments in the Hotel de la Pax. - -"Well," he announced, "you can cheer up. Little George is painlessly -removed. He sleeps to-night aboard the good ship _Lileth_, thanks to -the efforts of Martin Wall, assisted by yours truly." He stopped, and -stared in awe at his lordship. "What's the matter with you?" he -inquired. - -Harrowby waved a hopeless hand. - -"Minot," he said, "it was good of you. But while you have been -assisting me so kindly in that quarter, another--and a greater--blow -has fallen." - -"Good lord--what?" cried Minot. - -"It is no fault of mine--" Harrowby began. - -"On which I would have gambled my immortal soul," Minot said. - -"I thought it was all over and done with--five years ago. I was -young--sentimental--calcium-light and grease paint and that sort of -thing hit me-hard. I saw her from the stalls--fell desperately in -love--stayed so for six months--wrote letters--burning letters--and -now--" - -"Yes--and now?" - -"Now she's here. Gabrielle Rose is here. She's here--with the -letters." - -"Oh, for a Cotrell's Ink Eraser," Minot groaned. - -"My man saw her down-stairs," went on Harrowby, mopping his damp -forehead. "Fifty thousand she wants for the letters or she gives them -to a newspaper and begins to sue--at once--to-morrow." - -"I suppose," said Minot, "she is the usual Gaiety girl." - -"Not the usual, old chap. Quite a remarkable woman. She'll do what -she promises--trust her. And I haven't a farthing. Minot--it's all up -now. There's no way out of this." - -Minot sat thinking. The telephone rang. - -"I won't talk to her," cried Harrowby in a panic. "I won't have -anything to do with her. Minot, old chap--as a favor to me--" - -"The old family solicitor," smiled Minot. "That's me." - -He took down the receiver. But no voice that had charmed thousands at -the Gaiety answered his. Instead there came over the wire, heated, -raging, the tones of Mr. Henry Trimmer. - -"Hello--I want Allan Harrowby--ah, that's Minot talking, isn't it? -Yes. Good. I want a word with you. Do you know what I think of your -methods? Well, you won't now--telephone rules in the way. Think -you're going to get ahead of Trimmer, do you? Think you've put one -over, eh? Well--let me tell you, you're wrong. You're in for it now. -You've played into my hands. Steal Lord Harrowby, will you? Do you -know what that means? Publicity. Do you know what I'll do to-morrow? -I'll start a cyclone in this town that--" - -"Good night," said Minot, and hung up. - -"Who was it?" Harrowby wanted to know. - -"Our friend Trimmer, on the war-path," Minot replied. "It seems he's -missed his vaudeville partner." He sat down. "See here, Harrowby," he -said--it was the first time he had dropped the prefix, "it occurs to me -that an unholy lot of things are happening to spoil this wedding. So -I'm going to ask you a question." - -"Yes." - -"Harrowby"--Minot looked straight into the weak, but noble eyes--"are -you on the level?" - -"Really--I'm not very expert in your astounding language--" - -"Are you straight--honest--do you want to be married yourself?" - -"Why, Minot, my dear chap! I've told you a thousand times--I want -nothing more--I never shall want anything more--" - -"All right," said Minot, rising. "Then go to bed and sleep the sleep -of the innocent." - -"But where are you going? What are you going to do?" - -"I'm going to try and do the same." - -And as he went out, Minot slammed the door on a peer. - -Sticking above the knob of the door of 389 he found a telegram. -Turning on his lights, he sank wearily down on the bed and tore it open. - -"It rained in torrents," said the telegram, "at the dowager duchess's -garden party. You know what that means." - -It was signed "John Thacker." - -"Isn't that a devil of a night-cap?" muttered Minot gloomily. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE - -On the same busy night when the _Lileth_ flashed her red signal and -Miss Gabrielle Rose arrived with a package of letters that screamed for -a Cotrell, two strangers invaded San Marco by means of the -eight-nineteen freight south. Frayed, fatigued and famished as they -were, it would hardly have been kind to study them as they strolled up -San Sebastian Avenue toward the plaza. But had you been so unkind, you -would never have guessed that frequently, in various corners of the -little round globe, they had known prosperity, the weekly pay envelope, -and the buyer's crook of the finger summoning a waiter. - -One of the strangers was short, with flaming red hair and in his eye -the twinkle without which the collected works of Bernard Shaw are as -sounding brass. He twinkled about him as he walked--at the bright -lights and spurious gaiety under the spell of which San Marco sought to -forget the rates per day with bath. - -"The French," he mused, "are a volatile people, fond of light wines and -dancing. So, it would seem, are the inhabitants of San Marco. White -flannels, Harry, white flannels. They should encase that leaning tower -of Pisa you call your manly form." - -The other--long, cadaverous, immersed in a gentle melancholy--groaned. - -"Another tourist hothouse! Packed with innocents abroad, and everybody -bleeding 'em but us. Everything here but a real home, with chintz -table-covers and a cold roast of beef in the ice-chest. What are we -doing here? We should have gone north." - -"Ah, Harry, chide me no more," pleaded the little man. "I was weak, I -know, but all the freights seemed to be coming south, and I have always -longed for a winter amid the sunshine and flowers. Look at this fat -old duffer coming! Alms! For the love of Allah, alms!" - -"Shut up," growled the thin one. "Save your breath till we stand hat -in hand in the office of the local newspaper. A job! Two jobs! Good -lord, there aren't two newspaper jobs in the entire South. Well--we -can only be kicked out into the night again. And perhaps staked to a -meal, in the name of the guild in which we have served so long and -liquidly." - -"Some day," said the short man dreamily, "when I am back in the haunts -of civilization again, I am going to start something. A Society for -Melting the Stone Hearts of Editors. Motto: 'Have a heart--have a -heart!' Emblem, a roast beef sandwich rampant, on a cloth of linen. -Ah, well--the day will come." - -They halted in the plaza. In the round stone tub provided, the town -alligator dozed. Above him hung a warning sign: - -"Do not feed or otherwise annoy the alligator." - -The short man read, and drew back with a tragic groan. - -"Feed or otherwise annoy!" he cried. "Heavens, Harry, is that the way -they look at it here? This is no place for us. We'd better be moving -on to the next town." - -But the lean stranger gave no heed. Instead he stepped over and -entered into earnest converse with a citizen of San Marco. In a moment -he returned to his companion's side. - -"One newspaper," he announced. "The _Evening Chronicle_. Suppose the -office is locked for the night--but come along, let's try." - -"Feed or otherwise annoy," muttered the little man blankly. "For the -love of Allah--alms!" - -They traversed several side streets, and came at last to the office of -the _Chronicle_. It was a modest structure, verging on decay. One man -sat alone in the dim interior, reading exchanges under an electric lamp. - -"Good evening," said the short man genially. "Are you the editor?" - -"Uh, huh," responded the _Chronicle_ man without enthusiasm, from under -his green eye-shade. - -"Glad to know you. We just dropped in--a couple of newspaper men, you -know. This is Mr. Harry Howe, until recently managing editor of the -Mobile _Press_. My own name is Robert O'Neill--a humble editorial -writer on the same sheet." - -"Uh, huh. If you had jobs for God's sake why did you leave them?" - -"Ah, you may well ask." The red-haired one dropped, uninvited, into a -chair. "Old man, it's a dramatic story. The chief of police of Mobile -happened to be a crook and a grafter, and we happened to mention it in -the _Press_. Night before last twenty-five armed cops invaded the -peace and sanctity of our sanctum. Harry and I--pure accident--landed -in the same general heap at the foot of the fire-escape out back. And -here we are! Here we are!" - -"My newspaper instinct," said the _Chronicle_ man, "had already enabled -me to gather that last." - -Sarcasm. It was a bad sign. But blithely Bob O'Neill continued. - -"Here we are," he said, "two experienced newspaper men, down and out. -We thought there might possibly be a vacancy or two on the staff of -your paper--" - -The editor threw off his eye-shade, revealing a cynical face. - -"Boys," he said, "I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I've been -running this alleged newspaper for two long dreary years, and this -laugh you've just handed me is the first I've had during that time. -Vacancies! There is one--a big one. See my pocket for particulars. -Two years, boys. And all the time hoping--praying--that some day I'd -make two dollars and sixty cents, which is the railroad fare to the -next town." - -Howe and O'Neill listened with faces that steadily grew more sorrowful. - -"I'd like to stake you to a meal," the editor went on. "But a man's -first duty is to his family. Any burglar will tell you that." - -"I suppose," ventured O'Neill, most of the flash gone from his manner, -"there is no other newspaper here?" - -"No, there isn't. There's a weird thing here called the _San Marco -Mail_--a morning outrage. It's making money, but by different methods -than I'd care to use. You might try there. You look unlucky. Perhaps -they'd take you on." - -He rose from his chair, and gave them directions for reaching the -_Mail_ office. - -"Good night, boys," he said. "Thank you for calling. You're the first -newspaper men I've seen in two years, except when I've looked in the -glass. And the other day I broke my looking-glass. Good night, and -bad luck go with you to the extent of jobs on the _Mail_." - -"Cynic," breathed O'Neill in the street. "A bitter tongue maketh a -sour face. I liked him not. A morning outrage called the _Mail_. -Sounds promising--like smallpox in the next county." - -"We shall see," said Howe, "that which meets our vision. Forward, -march!" - -"The alligator and I," muttered O'Neill, "famished, perishing. For the -love of Allah, as I remarked before, alms!" - -In the dark second-floor hallway where the _Mail_ office was suspected -of being, they groped about determinedly. No sign of any nature -proclaimed San Marco's only morning paper. A solitary light, shining -through a transom, beckoned. Boldly O'Neill pushed open the door. - -To the knowing nostrils of the two birds of passage was wafted the odor -they loved, the unique inky odor of a newspaper shop. Their eyes -beheld a rather bare room, a typewriter or two, a desk. In the center -of the room was a small table under an electric lamp. On this table -was a bottle and glasses, and at it two silent men played poker. One -of the men was burly and bearded; the other was slight, pale, nervous. -From an inner room came the click of linotypes--lonesome linotypes that -seemed to have strayed far from their native haunts. - -The two men finished playing the hand, and looked up. - -"Good evening," said O'Neill, with a smile that had drawn news as a -magnet draws steel in many odd corners. "Gentlemen, four newspaper men -meet in a strange land. I perceive you have on the table a greeting -unquestionably suitable." - -The bearded man laughed, rose and discovered two extra glasses on a -near-by shelf. - -"Draw up," he said heartily. "The place is yours. You're as welcome -as pay-day." - -"Thanks." O'Neill reached for a glass. "Let me introduce ourselves." -And he mentioned his own name and Howe's. - -"Call me Mears," said the bearded one. "I'm managing editor of the -_Mail_. And this is my city editor, Mr. Elliott." - -"Delighted," breathed O'Neill. "A pleasant little haven you have found -here. And your staff--I don't see the members of your staff running in -and out?" - -"Mr. O'Neill," said Mears impressively, "you have drunk with the staff -of the _Mail_." - -"You two?" O'Neill's face shone with joy. "Glory be--do you hear -that, Harry? These gentlemen all alone on the premises." He leaned -over, and poured out eloquently the story of the tragic flight from -Mobile. "I call this luck," he finished. "Here we are, broke, eager -for work. And we find you minus a--" - -O'Neill stopped. For he had seen a sickly smile of derision float -across the face of the weary city editor. And he saw the bearded man -shaking his great head violently. - -"Nothing doing," said the bearded man firmly. "Sorry to dash your -hopes--always ready to pour another drink. But--there are no vacancies -here. No, sir. Two of us are plenty and running over, eh, Bill?" - -"Plenty and running over," agreed the city editor warmly. - -Into their boots tumbled the hearts of the two strangers in a strange -land. Gloom and hunger engulfed them. But the managing editor of the -_Mail_ was continuing--and what was this he was saying? - -"No, boys--we don't need a staff. Have just as much use for a manicure -set. But--you come at an opportune time. _Wanderlust_--it tickles the -soles of four feet to-night, and those four feet are editorial feet on -the _Mail_. Something tells us that we are going away from here. -Boys--how would you like our jobs?" - -He stared placidly at the two strangers. O'Neill put one hand to his -head. - -"See me safely to my park bench, Harry," he said. "It was that drink -on an empty stomach. I'm all in a daze. I hear strange things." - -"I hear 'em, too," said Howe. "See here"--he turned to Mears--"are you -offering to resign in our favor?" - -"The minute you say the word." - -"Both of you?" - -"Believe me," said the city editor, "you can't say the word too soon." - -"Well," said Howe, "I don't know what's the matter with the place, but -you can consider the deal closed." - -"Spoken like a sport!" The bearded man stood up. "You can draw lots -to determine who is to be managing editor and who city editor. It's an -excellent scheme--I attained my proud position that way. One condition -I attach. Ask no questions. Let us go out into the night unburdened -with your interrogation points." - -Elliott, too, stood. The bearded man indicated the bottle. "Fill up, -boys. I propose a toast. To the new editors of the _Mail_. May -Heaven bless them and bring them safely back to the North when -Florida's fitful fever is past." - -Dizzily, uncertainly, Howe and O'Neill drank. Mr. Mears reached out a -great red hand toward the bottle. - -"Pardon me--private property," he said. He pocketed it. "We bid you -good-by and good luck. Think of us on the choo-choo, please. Riding -far--riding far." - -"But--see here--" cried O'Neill. - -"But me no buts," said Mears again. "Nary a question, I beg of you. -Take our jobs, and if you think of us at all, think of gleaming rails -and a speeding train. Once more--good-by." - -The door slammed. O'Neill looked at Howe. - -"Fairies," he muttered, "or the D.T's. What is this--a comic opera or -a town? You are managing editor, Harry. I shall be city editor. Is -there a city to edit? No matter." - -"No," said Howe. He reached for the greasy pack of cards. "We draw -for it. Come on. High wins." - -"Jack," announced Mr. O'Neill. - -"Deuce," smiled Howe. "What are your orders, sir?" - -O'Neill passed one hand before his eyes. - -"A steak," he muttered. "Well done. Mushroom sauce. French fried -potatoes. I've always dreamed of running a paper some day. Hurry up -with that steak." - -"Forget your stomach," said Howe. "If a subordinate may make a -suggestion, we must get out a newspaper. Ah, whom have we here?" - -A stocky, red-faced man appeared from the inner room and stood -regarding them. - -"Where's Mears and Elliott?" he demanded. - -"On a train, riding far," said O'Neill. "I am the new managing editor. -What can I do for you?" - -"You can give me four columns of copy for the last page of to-morrow's -_Mail_," said the stocky man calmly. "I'm foreman of something in -there we call a composing-room. Glad to meet you." - -"Four columns," mused O'Neill. "Four columns of what?" - -The foreman pointed to a row of battered books on a shelf. - -"It's been the custom," he said, "to fill up with stuff out of that -encyclopedia there." - -"Thanks," O'Neill answered. He took down a book. "We'll fix you up in -ten minutes. Mr. Howe, will you please do me two columns -on--er--mulligatawny--murder--mushrooms. That's it. On mushrooms. -The life-story of the humble little mushroom. I myself will dash off a -column or so on the climate of Algeria." - -The foreman withdrew, and Howe and O'Neill stood looking at each other. - -"Once," said O'Neill, "I ran an editorial page in Boston, where you can -always fill space by printing letters from citizens who wish to rewrite -Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, and do it right. But I never struck -anything like this before." - -"Me either," said Howe. "Mushrooms, did you say?" - -They sat down before typewriters. - -"One thing worries me," remarked O'Neill. "If we'd asked the president -of the First National Bank for jobs, do you suppose we'd be in charge -there now?" - -"Write, man, write," said Howe. The clatter of their fingers on the -keys filled the room. - -They looked up suddenly ten minutes later to find a man standing -between them. He was a little man, clad all in white, suit, shoes, -stockings. His sly old face was a lemon yellow, and his eyes suggested -lights flaming in the dark woods at night. - -"Beg pardon," said the little man. - -"Ah, and what can we do for you?" inquired O'Neill. - -"Nothing. Mr. Mears? Mr. Elliott?" - -"Gone. Vamosed. You are now speaking to the managing editor of the -_Mail_." - -"Ah. Indeed?" - -"We are very busy. If you'll just tell me what you want--" - -"I merely dropped in. I am Manuel Gonzale, owner of the _Mail_." - -"Good lord!" cried O'Neill. - -"Do not be disturbed. I take it you gentlemen have replaced Mears and -Elliott. I am glad. Let them go. You look like bright young men to -me--quite bright enough. I employ you." - -"Thanks," stammered the managing editor. - -"Don't mention it. Here is Madame On Dit's column for to-morrow. It -runs on the first page. As for the rest of the paper, suit yourselves." - -O'Neill took the copy, and glanced through it. - -"Are there no libel laws down here?" he asked. - -"The material in that column," said the little man, his eyes narrowing, -"concerns only me. You must understand that at once." - -"The Madame writes hot stuff," ventured O'Neill. - -"I am the Madame," said the owner of the _Mail_ with dignity. - -He removed the copy from O'Neill's hand, and glided with it into the -other room. Scarcely had he disappeared when the door was opened -furiously and a panting man stood inside. Mr. Henry Trimmer's keen eye -surveyed the scene. - -"Where's Mears--Elliott?" he cried. - -"You're not the cashier, are you?" asked O'Neill with interest. - -"Don't try to be funny," roared Trimmer. "I'm looking for the editor -of this paper." - -"Your search is ended," O'Neill replied. "What is it?" - -"You mean you-- Say! I've got a front-page story for to-morrow's -issue that will upset the town." - -"Come to my arms," cried O'Neill. "What is it?" - -"The real Lord Harrowby has been kidnaped." - -O'Neill stared at him sorrowfully. - -"Have you been reading the Duchess again?" he asked. "Who the hell is -Lord Harrowby?" - -"Do you mean to say you don't know? Where have you been buried alive?" - -Out of the inner room glided Manuel Gonzale, and recognizing him, Mr. -Trimmer poured into his ear the story of George's disappearance. Mr. -Gonzale rubbed his hands. - -"A good story," he said. "A very good story. Thank you, a thousand -times. I myself will write it." - -With a scornful glance at the two strangers, Mr. Trimmer went out, and -Manuel Gonzale sat down at his desk. O'Neill and Howe returned to -their encyclopedic despatches. - -"There you are," said Gonzale at last, standing. "Put an eight column -head on that, please, and run it on the front page. A very fine story. -The paper must go to press"--he looked at a diamond studded watch--"in -an hour. Only four pages. Please see to the make-up. My circulation -manager will assist you with the distribution." At the door he paused. -"It occurs to me that your exchequer may be low. Seventy-five dollars -a week for the managing editor. Fifty for the city editor. Allow -me--ten dollars each in advance. If you need more, pray remind me." - -Into their hands he put crinkling bills. And then, gliding still like -the fox he looked, he went out into the night. - -"Sister," cried O'Neill weakly, "the fairies are abroad to-night. I -hear the rustle of their feet over the grass." - -"Fairies," sneered Howe. "I could find another and a harsher name for -them." - -"Don't," pleaded O'Neill. "Don't look a gift bill in the treasury -number. Don't try to penetrate behind the beyond. Say nothing and let -us eat. How are you coming with the mushroom serial?" - -An hour later they sent the paper to press, and sought the grill room -of the Hotel Alameda. As they came happily away from that pleasant -spot, O'Neill spied a fruit-stand. He stopped and made a few purchases. - -"Now," said Howe, "let us go over and meet the circulation manager. -Here--where are you going, Bob?" - -"Just a minute," O'Neill shouted back. "Come along, Harry. I'm going -over to the plaza! I'm going over to feed that alligator!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -TEARS FROM THE GAIETY - -Friday morning found Mr. Minot ready for whatever diplomacy the day -might demand of him. He had a feeling that the demand would be great. -The unheralded arrival of Miss Gabrielle Rose and her packet of letters -presented no slight complication. Whatever the outcome of any suit she -might start against Harrowby, Minot was sure that the mere announcement -of it would be sufficient to blast Jephson's hopes for all time. Old -Spencer Meyrick, already inflamed by the episode of the elder brother, -was not likely to take coolly the publication of Harrowby's -incriminating letters. - -After an early breakfast, Minot sent a cable to Jephson telling of Miss -Rose's arrival and asking for information about her. Next he sought an -interview with the Gaiety lady. - -An hour later, in a pink and gold parlor of the Hotel de la Pax, he -stood gazing into the china-blue eyes of Miss Gabrielle Rose. It goes -without saying that Miss Rose was pretty; innocent she seemed, too, -with a baby stare that said as plainly as words: "Please don't harm me, -will you?" But--ah, well, Lord Harrowby was not the first to learn -that a business woman may lurk back of a baby stare. - -"You come from Lord Harrowby?" And the smile that had decorated ten -million postcards throughout the United Kingdom flashed on Mr. Minot. -"Won't you sit down?" - -"Thanks." Minot fidgeted. He had no idea what to say. Time--it was -time he must fight for, as he was fighting with Trimmer. "Er--Miss -Rose," he began, "when I started out on this errand I had misgivings. -But now that I have seen you, they are gone. Everything will be all -right, I know. I have come to ask that you show Lord Harrowby some -leniency." - -The china-blue eyes hardened. - -"You have come on a hopeless errand, Mr--er--Minot. Why should I show -Harrowby any consideration? Did he show me any--when he broke his word -to me and made me the laughing-stock of the town?" - -"But that all happened five years ago--" - -"Yes, but it is as vivid as though it were yesterday. I have always -intended to demand some redress from his lordship. But my -art--Mr.--Mr. Minot--you have no idea how exacting art can be. Not -until now have I been in a position to do so." - -"And the fact that not until now has his lordship proposed to marry -some one else--that of course has nothing to do with it?" - -"Mr. Minot!" A delightful pout. "If you knew me better you could not -possibly ask that." - -"Miss Rose, you're a clever woman--" - -"Oh, please don't. I hate clever women, and I'm sure you do, too. I'm -not a bit clever, and I'm proud of it. On the contrary, I'm rather -weak--rather easily got round. But when I think of the position Allan -put me in--even a weak woman can be firm in the circumstances." - -"Have it your own way," said Minot, bowing. "But you are at least -clever enough to understand the futility of demanding financial redress -from a man who is flat broke. I assure you Lord Harrowby hasn't a -shilling." - -"I don't believe it. He can get money somehow. He always could. The -courts can force him to. I shall tell my lawyer to go ahead with the -suit." - -"If you would only delay--a week--" - -"Impossible." Miss Rose spoke with haughty languor. "I begin -rehearsals in New York in a week. No, I shall start suit to-day. You -may tell Lord Harrowby so." - -Poor Jephson! Minot had a mental picture of the little bald man -writing at that very moment a terribly large check for the Dowager -Duchess of Tremayne--paying for the rain that had fallen in torrents. -He must at least hold this woman off until Jephson answered his cable. - -"Miss Rose," he pleaded, "grant us one favor. Do not make public your -suit against Harrowby until I have seen you again--say, at four o'clock -this afternoon." - -Coldly she shook her head. - -"But you have already waited five years. Surely you can wait another -five hours--as a very great favor to me." - -"I should like to--since you put it that way--but it's impossible. I'm -sorry." The great beauty and business woman leaned closer. "Mr. -Minot, you can hardly realize what Allan's unkindness cost me--in -bitter tears. I loved him--once. And--I believe he loved me." - -"There can not be any question about that." - -"Ah--flattery--" - -"No--spoken from the heart." - -"Really!" - -"My dear lady--I should like to be your press agent. I could write the -most gorgeous things about you--and no one could say I lied." - -"You men are so nice," she gurgled, "when you want to be." Ah, yes, -Gabrielle Rose had always found them so, and had yet to meet one not -worth her while to capture. She turned the baby stare full on Minot. -Even to a beauty of the theater he was an ingratiating picture. She -rose and strolled to a piano in one corner of the room. Minot followed. - -"When Harrowby first met me," she said, her fingers on the keys, "I was -singing _Just a Little_. My first dear song--ah, Mr. Minot, I was -happy then." - -In another minute she began to sing--softly--a plaintive little -love-song, and in spite of himself Minot felt his heart beat faster. - -"How it brings back the old days," she whispered. "The lights, and the -friendly faces--Harrowby in the stalls. And the little suppers after -the show--" - -She leaned forward and sang at Minot as she had sung at Harrowby five -years before: - - "You could love me just a little--if you tried-- - You could feel your heart go pit-a-pat inside--" - - -Really, she had a way with her! - - "Dear, it's easy if you try; - Cross your heart and hope to die-- - Don't you love me just a little--now?" - - -That baby stare in all its pathos, all its appealing helplessness, was -focused full on Minot. He gripped the arms of his chair. Gabrielle -Rose saw. Had she made another captive? So it seemed. She felt very -kindly toward the world. - -"Promise." Minot leaned over. His voice was hoarse. "You'll meet me -here at four. Quite aside from my errand--quite aside from -everything--I want to see you again." - -"Do you really?" She continued to hum beneath her breath. "Very -well--here at four." - -"And--" he hesitated, fearing to break the spell. "In the meantime--" - -"In the meantime," she said, "I'll think only of--four o'clock." - -Minot left that pink and gold parlor at sea in several respects. The -theory was that he had played with this famous actress--wound her round -his finger--cajoled a delay. But somehow he didn't feel exactly as one -who has mastered a delicate situation should. Instead he felt dazed by -the beauty of her. - -Still more was he at sea as to what he was going to do at four o'clock. -Of what good was the delay if he could not make use of it? And at the -moment he hadn't the slightest notion of what he could do to prepare -himself for the afternoon interview. He must wait for Jephson's -cable--perhaps that would give him an idea. - -Minot was walking blankly down the street in the direction of his -morning paper when a poster in a deserted store window caught his eye. -It was an atrocious poster--red letters on a yellow background. It -announced that five hundred dollars reward would be paid by Mr. Henry -Trimmer for information that would disclose the present whereabouts of -the real Lord Harrowby. - -As Minot stood reading it, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. -Turning, he looked into the lean and hostile face of Henry Trimmer -himself. - -"Good morning," said Mr. Trimmer. - -"Good morning," replied Minot. - -"Glad to number you among my readers," sneered Trimmer. "What do you -think--reward large enough?" - -"Looks about the right size to me," Minot answered. - -"Me, too. Ought to bring results pretty quick. By the way, you were -complaining last night that you never heard of me until you came here. -I've been thinking that over, and I've decided to make up to you in the -next few days for all those lonely years--" - -But the morning had been too much for Minot. Worried, distressed, he -lost for the moment his usual smiling urbanity. - -"Oh, go to the devil!" he said, and walked away. - -Lunch time came--two o'clock. At half past two, out of London, Jephson -spoke. Said his cable: - - -"Know nothing of G.R. except that she's been married frequently. Do -best you can." - - -And what help was this, pray? Disgustedly Minot read the cable again. -Four o'clock was coming on apace, and with every tick of the clock his -feeling of helplessness grew. He mentally berated Thacker and Jephson. -They left him alone to grapple with wild problems, offering no help and -asking miracles. Confound them both! - -Three o'clock came. What--what was he to say? Lord Harrowby, -interrogated, was merely useless and frantic. He couldn't raise a -shilling. He couldn't offer a suggestion. "Dear old chap," he moaned, -"I depend on you." - -Three-thirty! Well, Thacker and Jephson had asked the impossible, that -was all. Minot felt he had done his best. No man could do more. He -was very sorry for Jephson, but--golden before him opened the -possibility of Miss Cynthia Meyrick free to be wooed. - -Yet he must be faithful to the last. At a quarter to four he read -Jephson's cablegram again. As he read, a plan ridiculous in its -ineffectiveness occurred to him. And since no other came in the -interval before four, he walked into Miss Rose's presence determined to -try out his weak little bluff. - -The Gaiety lady was playing on the piano--a whispering, seductive -little tune. As Minot stepped to her side she glanced up at him with a -coy inviting smile. But she drew back a little at his determined glare. - -"Miss Rose," he said sharply, "I have discovered that you can not sue -Lord Harrowby for breach of contract to marry you." - -"Why--why not?" she stammered. - -"Because," said Minot, with a triumphant smile--though it was a shot in -the dark--"you already had a husband when those letters were written to -you." - -Well, he had done his best. A rather childish effort, but what else -was there to attempt? Poor old Jephson! - -"Nonsense," said the Gaiety lady, and continued to play. - -"Nothing of the sort," Minot replied. "Why, I can produce the man -himself." - -Might as well go the limit while he was about it. That should be his -consolation when Jephson lost. Might as well--but what was this? - -Gabrielle Rose had turned livid with anger. Her lips twitched, her -china-blue eyes flashed fire. If only her lawyer had been by her side -then! But he wasn't. And so she cried hotly: - -"He's told! The little brute's told!" - -Good lord! Minot felt his knees weaken. A shot in the dark--had it -hit the target after all? - -"If you refer to your husband," said Minot, "he has done just that." - -"He's not my husband," she snapped. - -Oh, what was the use? Providence was with Jephson. - -"No, of course not--not since the divorce," Minot answered. "But he -was when those letters were written." - -The Gaiety lady's chin began to tremble. - -"And he promised me, on his word of honor, that he wouldn't tell. But -I suppose you found him easy. What honor could one expect in a Persian -carpet dealer?" - -A Persian carpet dealer? Into Minot's mind floated a scrap of -conversation heard at Mrs. Bruce's table. - -"But you must remember," he ventured, "that he is also a prince." - -"Yes," said the woman, "that's what I thought when I married him. He's -the prince of liars--that's as far as his royal blood goes." - -A silence, while Miss Gabrielle Rose felt in her sleeve for her -handkerchief. - -"I suppose," Minot suggested, "you will abandon the suit--" - -She looked at him. Oh, the pathos of that baby stare! - -"You are acting in this matter simply as Harrowby's friend?" she asked. - -"Simply as his friend." - -"And--so far--only you know of my--er--ex-husband?" - -"Only I know of him," smiled Minot. The smile died from his face. For -he saw bright tears on the long lashes of the Gaiety lady. She leaned -close. - -"Mr. Minot," she said, "it is I who need a friend. Not Harrowby. I am -here in a strange country--without funds--alone. Helpless. Mr. Minot. -You could not be so cruel." - -"I--I--I'm sorry," said Minot uncomfortably. - -The lady was an actress, and she acted now, beautifully. - -"I--I feel so desolate," she moaned, dabbing daintily at her eyes. -"You will help me. It can not be I am mistaken in you. I thought--did -I imagine it--this morning when I sang for you--you liked me--just a -little?" - -Nervously Minot rose from his chair and stood looking down at her. He -tried to answer, but his voice seemed lost. - -"Just a very little?" She, too, rose and placed her butterfly hands on -his shoulders. "You do like me--just a little, don't you?" - -Her pleading eyes gazed into his. It was a touching scene. To be -besought thus tenderly by a famous beauty in the secluded parlor of a -southern hotel! The touch of her hands on his shoulders thrilled him. -The odor of Jockey Club-- - -It was at this instant that Mr. Minot, looking past the Gaiety lady's -beautiful golden coiffure, beheld Miss Cynthia Meyrick standing in the -doorway of that parlor, a smile on her face. She disappeared on the -instant, but Gabrielle Rose's "big scene" was ruined beyond repair. - -"My dear lady"--gently Minot slipped from beneath her lovely hands--"I -assure you I do like you--more than a little. But unfortunately my -loyalty to Harrowby--no, I won't say that--circumstances are such that -I can not be your friend in this instance. Though, if I could serve -you in any other way--" - -Gabrielle Rose snapped her fingers. - -"Very well." Her voice had a metallic ring now. "We shall see what we -shall see." - -"Undoubtedly. I bid you good day." - -As Minot, somewhat dazed, walked along the veranda of the De la Pax he -met Miss Meyrick. There was a mischievous gleam in her eye. - -"Really, it was so tactless of me, Mr. Minot," she said. "A thousand -apologies." - -He pretended not to understand. - -"My untimely descent on the parlor." She beamed on him. "I presume it -happened because romance draws me--like a magnet. Even other people's." - -Minot smiled wanly, and for once sought to end their talk. - -"Oh, do sit down just a moment," she pleaded. "I want to thank you for -the great service you did Harrowby and me--last night." - -"Wha--what service?" asked Minot, sinking into a chair. - -She leaned close, and spoke in a whisper. - -"Your part in the kidnaping. Harrowby has told me. It was sweet of -you--so unselfish." - -"Damn!" thought Minot. And then he thought two more. - -"To put yourself out that our wedding may be a success!" Was this -sarcasm, Minot wondered. "I'm so glad to know about it, Mr. Minot. It -shows me at last--just what you think is"--she looked away--"best for -me." - -"Best for you? What do you mean?" - -"Can't you understand? From some things you've said I have -thought--perhaps--you didn't just approve of my--marriage. And now I -see I misconstrued you--utterly. You want me to marry Harrowby. -You're working for it. I shouldn't be surprised if you were on that -train last Monday just to make sure that--I'd--get here--safely." - -Really, it was inhuman. Did she realize how inhuman it was? One -glance at Minot might have told her. But she was still looking away. - -"So I want to thank you, Mr. Minot," she went on. "I shall always -remember your--kindness. I couldn't understand at first, but now--I -wonder? You know, it's an old theory that as soon as one has one's own -affair of the heart arranged, one begins to plan for others?" - -Minot made a little whistling sound through his clenched teeth. The -girl stood up. - -"Your thoughtfulness has made me very happy," she laughed. "It shows -that perhaps you care for me--just a little--too." - -She was gone! Minot sat swearing softly to himself, banging the arm of -his chair with his fist. He raged at Thacker, Jephson, the solar -system. Gradually his anger cooled. Underneath the raillery in -Cynthia Meyrick's tone he had thought he detected something of a -serious note--as though she were a little wistful--a little hurt. - -Did she care? Bitter-sweet thought! In the midst of all this farce -and melodrama, had she come to care?--just a little?-- - -Just a little! Bah! - -Minot rose and went out on the avenue. - -Prince Navin Bey Imno was accustomed to give lectures twice daily on -the textures of his precious rugs, at his shop in the Alameda -courtyard. His afternoon lecture was just finished as Mr. Minot -stepped into the shop. A dozen awed housewives from the Middle West -were hurrying away to write home on the hotel stationery that they had -met a prince. When the last one had gone out Minot stepped forward. - -"Prince--I've dropped in to warn you. A very angry woman will be here -shortly to see you." - -The handsome young Persian shrugged his shoulders, and took off the -jacket of the native uniform with which he embellished his talks. - -"Why is she angry? All my rugs--they are what I say they are. In this -town are many liars selling oriental rugs. Oriental! Ugh! In New -Jersey they were made. But not my rugs. See! Only in my native -country, where I was a prince of the--" - -"Yes, yes. But this lady is not coming about rugs. I refer to your -ex-wife." - -"Ah. You are mistaken. I have never married." - -"Oh, yes, you have. I know all about it. There's no need to lie. The -whole story is out, and the lady's game in San Marco is queered. She -thinks you told. That's why she'll be here for a chat." - -"But I did not tell. Only this morning did I see her first. I could -not tell--so soon. Who could I tell--so soon?" - -"I know you didn't tell. But can you prove it to an agitated lady? -No. You'd better close up for the evening." - -"Ah, yes--you are right. I am innocent--but what does Gabrielle care -for innocence? We are no longer married--still I should not want to -meet her now. I will close. But first--my friend--my -benefactor--could I interest you in this rug? See! Only in my native -country, where--" - -"Prince," said Minot, "I couldn't use a rug if you gave me one." - -"That is exactly what I would do. You are my friend. You serve me. I -give you this. Fifty dollars. That is giving it to you. Note the -weave. Only in my--" - -"Good night," interrupted Minot. "And take my advice. Hurry!" - -Gloomy, discouraged, he turned back toward his own hotel. It was true, -Gabrielle Rose's husband at the time of the letters was in San Marco. -The emissary of Jephson was serving a cause that could not lose. That -afternoon he had hoped. Was there anything dishonorable in that? -Jephson and Thacker could command his service, they could not command -his heart. He had hoped--and now-- - -At a corner a negro gave him a handbill. He read: - - WHO HAS KIDNAPED - THE REAL - LORD HARROWBY? - AT THE OPERA-HOUSE TO-NIGHT!! - Mr. Henry Trimmer Will Appear in - Place of His Unfortunate Friend, Lord - Harrowby, and Will Make a Few - WARM AND SIZZLING - REMARKS. - NO ADVANCE IN PRICES. - - -Mr. Minot tossed the bill into the street. Into his eyes came the -ghostlike semblance of a smile. After all, the famous Harrowby wedding -had not yet taken place. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY - -After dinner Minot lighted a cigar and descended into the hotel gardens -for a stroll. Farther and farther he strayed down the shadowy gravel -paths, until only the faint far suggestion of music at his back -recalled the hotel's lights and gaiety. It was a deserted land he -penetrated; just one figure did he encounter in a fifteen minutes' -walk--a little man clad all in white scurrying like a wraith in the -black shade of the royal palms. - -At a distant corner of the grounds near the tennis-courts was a -summer-house in which tea was served of an afternoon. Into this Minot -strolled, to finish his cigar and ponder the day's developments in the -drama he was playing. As he drew a comfortable chair from moonlight -into shadow he heard a little gasp at his elbow, and turning, beheld a -beautiful vision. - -Gabrielle Rose was made for the spotlight, and that being absent, -moonlight served as well. Under its soft merciful rays she stood -revealed--the beauty thousands of playgoers knew and worshiped. Dick -Minot gazed at her in awe. He was surprised that she held out her hand -to him, a smile of the utmost friendliness on her face. - -"How fortunate," she said, as though speaking the cue for a lovely -song. "I stand here, the wonder of this old Spanish night getting into -my very blood--and the only thing lacking in the picture is--a man. -And then, you come." - -"I'm glad to be of service," said Minot, tossing away his cigar. - -"What an unromantic way to put it! Really, this chance meeting--it was -a chance meeting, I suppose?--" - -"A lucky chance," he agreed. - -She pouted. - -"Then you did not follow? Unromantic to the last! But as I was -saying, this chance meeting is splendid. My train goes in an hour--and -I wanted so very much to see you--once again." - -"You flatter me." - -"Ah--you don't understand." She dropped into a chair. "I wanted to -see you--to put your conscience at rest. You were so sorry when you -had to be--cruel--to me to-day. You will be so glad to know that it -has all turned out happily, after all." - -"What do you mean?" asked Minot, new apprehensions rising in his mind. - -"Alas, if I could only tell you." She was laughing at him now--an -experience he did not relish. "But--my lips are sealed, as we say on -the stage. I can only give you the hint. You thought you left me a -broken vanquished woman. How the thought did pain you! Well, your -victory was not absolute. Let that thought console you." - -"You are too kind," Minot answered. - -"And--you are glad I am not leaving San Marco quite beaten?" - -"Oh, yes--I'm wild with pleasure." - -"Really--that is sweet of you. I am so sorry we must part. The -moonlight, the palms, the distant music--all so romantic. But--we -shall meet again?" - -"I don't know." - -"Don't know? How unkind--when it all depends on you. You will look me -up in New York, won't you? New York is not so romantic--but I shall -try to make it up to you. I shall sing for you. _Just a Little_." - -She stood up, and held out a slim white hand. - -"Good-by, Mr. Minot." Still she laughed. "It has been so good to know -you." - -"Er--good-by," said Minot. He took the hand. He heard her humming -beneath her breath--humming _Just a Little_. "I've enjoyed your -singing immensely." - -She laughed outright now--a silvery joyous laugh. And, refusing the -baffled Minot's offer to take her back to the hotel, she fled away from -him down the dark path. - -He fell back into his chair, and lighted another cigar. Exit the -Gaiety lady, laughing merrily. What was the meaning of that? What new -complication must he meet and solve? - -For his answer, he had only to return to the hotel. On the steps he -was met by Lord Harrowby's man, agitated, puffing. - -"Been looking all about for you, sir," he announced. "'Is lordship -wishes to see you at once--most h'important." - -"More trouble, Minot," was Lord Harrowby's gloomy greeting. "Sit down, -old chap. Just had a very nasty visitor." - -"Sorry to hear it." - -"Little brown monkey of a man--Manuel Gonzale, proprietor of the _San -Marco Mail_. I say, old boy, there's a syllable missing in the name of -that paper. Do you get me?" - -"You mean it should be the _San Marco Blackmail_? Pretty good, -Harrowby, pretty good." And Minot added to himself "for you." - -"That's exactly what I do mean. Gabrielle has sold out her bunch of -letters to Mr. Gonzale. And it appears from the chap's sly hints that -unless I pay him ten thousand dollars before midnight, the best of -those letters will be in to-morrow's _Mail_." - -"He's got his nerve--working a game like that," said Minot. - -"Nerve--not at all," replied Harrowby. "He's as safe as a child in its -own nursery. He knows as well as anybody that the last thing I'd do -would be to appeal to the police. Too much publicity down that road. -Well?" - -"His price is a bit cheaper than Gabrielle's." - -"Yes, but not cheap enough. I'm broke, old boy. The governor and I -are on very poor terms. Shouldn't think of appealing to him." - -"We might pawn Chain Lightning's Collar," Minot suggested. - -"Never! There must be some way--only three days before the wedding. -We mustn't lose on the stretch, old boy." - -A pause. Minot sat glumly. - -"Have you no suggestion?" Harrowby asked anxiously. - -"I have not," said Minot, rising. "But I perceive clearly that it now -devolves on little Dicky Minot to up and don his fighting armor once -more." - -"Really, old boy, I'm sorry," said Harrowby. "I'm hoping things may -quiet down a bit after a time." - -"So am I," replied Minot with feeling. "If they don't I can see -nervous prostration and a hospital cot ahead for me. You stay here and -study the marriage service--I'm going out on the broad highway again." - -He went down into the lobby and tore Jack Paddock away from the side of -one of the Omaha beauties. Mr. Paddock was resplendent in evening -clothes, and thoughtful, for on the morrow Mrs. Bruce was to give an -important luncheon. - -"Jack," Minot said, "I'm going to confide in you. I'm going to tell -you why I am in San Marco." - -"Unbare your secrets," Paddock answered. - -Crossing the quiet plaza Minot explained to his friend the matter of -the insurance policy written by the romantic Jephson in New York. He -told of how he had come south with the promise to his employer that -Miss Cynthia Meyrick would change her mind only over his dead body. -Incredulous exclamations broke from the flippant Paddock as he listened. - -"Knowing your love of humor," Minot said, "I hasten to add the crowning -touch. The moment I saw Cynthia Meyrick I realized that if I couldn't -marry her myself life would be an uninteresting blank forever after. -Every time I've seen her since I've been surer of it. What's the -answer, Jack?" - -Paddock whistled. - -"Delicious," he cried. "Pardon me--I'm speaking as a rank outsider. -She is a charming girl. And you adore her! Bless my soul, how the -plot does thicken! Why don't you resign, you idiot?" - -"My first idea. Tried it, and it wouldn't work. Besides, if I did -resign, I couldn't stick around and queer Jephson's chances--even -supposing she'd listen to my pleading, which she wouldn't." - -"Children, see the very Christian martyr! If it was me I'd chuck the -job and elope with--oh, no, you couldn't do that, of course. It would -be a low trick. You are in a hole, aren't you?" - -"Five million fathoms deep. There's nothing to do but see the wedding -through. And you're going to help me. Just now, Mr. Manuel Gonzale -has a packet of love-letters written by Harrowby in his salad days, -which he proposes to print on the morrow unless he is paid not to -to-night. You and I are on our way to take 'em away from him." - -"Um--but if I help you in this I'll be doing you a mean trick. Can't -quite make out, old boy, whether to stand by you in a business or a -personal way." - -"You're going to stand by me in a business way. I want you along -to-night to lend your moral support while I throttle that little -blackmailer.". - -"Ay, ay, sir. I've been hearing some things about Gonzale myself. Go -to it!" - -They groped about in a dark hallway hunting the _Mail_ office. - -"Shady are the ways of journalism," commented Paddock. "By the way, -I've just thought of one for Mrs. Bruce to spring to-morrow. In case -we fail and the affinity letters are published, she might say that -Harrowby's epistles got into the _Mail_ once too often. It's only a -rough idea--ah--I see you don't like it. Well, here's success to our -expedition." - -They opened the door of the _Mail_ office. Mr. O'Neill sat behind a -desk, the encyclopedia before him, seeking lively material for the -morrow's issue. Mr. Howe hammered at a typewriter. Both of the -newspaper men looked up at the intrusion. - -"Ah, gentlemen," said O'Neill, coming forward. "What can I do for you?" - -"Who are you?" Minot asked. - -"What? Can it be? Is my name not a household word in San Marco? I am -managing editor of the _Mail_." His eyes lighted on Mr. Paddock's -giddy attire. "We can't possibly let you give a ball here to-night, if -that's what you want." - -"Very humorous," said Minot. "But our wants are far different. I -won't beat around the bush. You have some letters here written by a -friend of mine to a lady he adored--at the moment. You are going to -print them in to-morrow's _Mail_ unless my friend is easy enough to pay -you ten thousand dollars. He isn't going to pay you anything. We've -come for those letters--and we'll get them or run you and your boss out -of town in twenty-four hours--you raw little blackmailers!" - -"Blackmailers!" Mr. O'Neill's eyes seemed to catch fire from his hair. -His face paled. "I've been in the newspaper business seventeen years, -and nobody ever called me a blackmailer and got away with it. I'm in a -generous mood. I'll give you one chance to take that back--" - -"Nonsense. It happens to be true--" put in Paddock. - -"I'm talking to your friend here." O'Neill's breath came fast. "I'll -attend to you, you lily of the field, in a minute. You--you liar--are -you going to take that back?" - -"No," cried Minot. - -He saw a wild Irishman coming for him, breathing fire. He squared -himself to meet the attack! But the man at the typewriter leaped up -and seized O'Neill from behind. - -"Steady, Bob," he shouted. "How do you know this fellow isn't right?" - -Unaccountably the warlike one collapsed into a chair. - -"Damn it, I know he's right," he groaned. "That's what makes me rave. -Why didn't you let me punch him? It would have been some satisfaction. -Of course he's right. I had a hunch this was a blackmailing sheet from -the moment my hot fingers closed on Gonzale's money. But so long as -nobody told us, we were all right." - -He glared angrily at Minot. - -"You--you killjoy," he cried. "You skeleton at the feast. You've put -us in a lovely fix." - -"Well, I'm sorry," said Minot, "but I don't understand these heroics." - -"It's all up now, Harry," moaned O'Neill. "The free trial is over and -we've got to send the mattress back to the factory. Here in this -hollow lotus land, ever to live and lie reclined--I was putting welcome -on the mat for a fate like that. Back to the road for us. That human -fish over in the _Chronicle_ office was a prophet--'You look -unlucky--maybe they'll give you jobs on the _Mail_.' Remember." - -"Cool off, Bob," Howe said. He turned to Minot and Paddock. "Of -course you don't understand. You see, we're strangers here. Drifted -in last night broke and hungry, looking for jobs. We got them--under -rather unusual circumstances. Things looked suspicious--the proprietor -parted with money without screaming for help, and no regular newspaper -is run like that. But--when you're down and out, you know--" - -"I understand," said Minot, smiling. "And I'm sorry I called you what -I did. I apologize. And I hate to be a--er--a killjoy. But as a -matter of fact, your employer is a blackmailer, and it's best you -should know it." - -"Yes," put in Paddock. "Do you gentlemen happen to have heard where -the editor of Mr. Gonzale's late newspaper, published in Havana, is -now?" - -"We do not," said O'Neill, "but maybe you'll tell us." - -"I will. He's in prison, doing ten years for blackmail. I understand -that Mr. Gonzale prefers to involve his editors, rather than himself." - -O'Neill came over and held out his hand to Minot. - -"Shake, son," he said. "Thank God I didn't waste my strength on you. -Gonzale will be in here in a minute--" - -"About those letters?" Howe inquired. - -"Yes," said Minot. "They were written to a Gaiety actress by a man who -is in San Marco for his wedding next Tuesday--Lord Harrowby." - -"His ludship again," O'Neill remarked. "Say, I always thought the -South was democratic." - -"Well," said Howe, "we owe you fellows something for putting us wise. -We've stood for a good deal, but never for blackmailing. As a matter -of fact, Gonzale hasn't brought the letters in yet, but he's due at any -minute. When he comes--take the letters away from him. I shan't -interfere. How about you, Bob?" - -"I'll interfere," said O'Neill, "and I'll interfere strong--if I think -you fellows ain't leaving enough of little Manuel for me to caress--" - -The door opened, and the immaculate proprietor of the _Mail_ came -noiselessly into the room. His eyes narrowed when they fell on the -strangers there. - -"Are you Manuel Gonzale?" Minot demanded. - -"I--I am." The sly little eyes darted everywhere. - -"Proprietor of the _Mail_?" - -"Yes." - -"The gentleman who visited Lord Harrowby an hour back?" - -"Man! Man! You're wasting time," O'Neill cried. - -"Excuse me," smiled Minot. "Unintentional, I assure you." He seized -the little Spaniard suddenly by the collar. "We're here for Lord -Harrowby's letters," he said. His other hand began a rapid search of -Manuel Gonzale's pockets. - -"Let me go, you thief," screamed the proprietor of the _Mail_. He -squirmed and fought. "Let me go!" He writhed about to face his -editors. "You fools! What are you doing, standing there? Help -me--help--" - -"We're waiting," said O'Neill. "Waiting for our turn. Remember your -promise, son. Enough of him left for me." - -Minot and his captive slid back and forth across the floor. The three -others watched, O'Neill in high glee. - -"Go to it!" he cried. "That's Madame On Dit you're waltzing with. I -speak for the next dance, Madame." - -Mr. Minot's eager hand came away from the Spaniard's inner waistcoat -pocket, and in it was a packet of perfumed letters, tied with a cute -blue ribbon. He released his victim. - -"Sorry to be so impolite," he said. "But I had to have these to-night." - -Gonzale turned on him with an evil glare. - -"Thief!" he cried. "I'll have the law on you for this." - -"I doubt that," smiled Minot. "Jack, I guess that about concludes our -business with the _Mail_." He turned to Howe and O'Neill. "You boys -look me up at the De la Pax. I want to wish you bon voyage when you -start north. For the present--good-by." - -And he and Paddock departed. - -"You're a fine pair," snarled Gonzale, when the door had closed. "A -fine pair to take my salary money, and then stand by and see me -strangled." - -"You're not strangled yet," said O'Neill. He came slowly toward his -employer, like a cat stalking a bird. "Did you get my emphasis on the -word yet?" - -Gonzale paled beneath his lemon skin, and got behind a desk. - -"Now, boys," he pleaded, "I didn't mean anything. I'll be frank with -you--I have been a little indiscreet here. But that's all over now. -It would be dangerous to try any more--er--deals at present. And I -want you to stay on here until I can get new men in your places." - -"Save your breath," said O'Neill through his teeth. - -"Your work has been excellent--excellent," went on Gonzale hastily. "I -feel I am not paying you enough. Stay on with me until your week is -up. I will give you a hundred each when you go--and I give you my word -I'll attempt nothing dangerous while you are here." - -He retreated farther from O'Neill. - -"Wait a minute, Bob," said Howe. "No blackmailing stunts while we -stay?" - -"Well--I shouldn't call them that--" - -"No blackmailing stunts?" - -"No--I promise." - -"Harry," wailed the militant O'Neill. "What's the matter with you? We -ought to thrash him--now--and--" - -"Go back on the road?" Howe inquired. "A hundred dollars each, Bob. -It means New York in a parlor car." - -"Then you will stay?" cried Gonzale. - -"Yes,--we'll stay," said Howe firmly. - -"See here--" pleaded O'Neill. "Oh, what's the use? This dolce far -niente has got us." - -"We stay only on the terms you name," stipulated Howe. - -"It is agreed," said Gonzale, smiling wanly. "The loss of those -letters cost me a thousand dollars--and you stood by. However, let us -forgive and forget. Here--Madame On Dit's copy for to-morrow." -Timidly he held out a roll of paper toward O'Neill. - -"All right." O'Neill snatched it. "But I'm going to edit it from now -on. For instance, there's a comma I don't like. And I'm going to keep -an eye on you, my hearty." - -"As you wish," said Gonzale humbly. "I--I am going out for a moment." -The door closed noiselessly behind him. - -Howe and O'Neill stood looking at each other. - -"Well--you had your way," said O'Neill, shamefacedly. "I don't seem to -be the man I was. It must be the sunshine and the posies. And the -thought of the road again." - -"A hundred each," said Howe grimly. "We had to have it, Bob. It means -New York." - -"Yes." O'Neill pondered. "But--that good-looking young fellow, -Harry--the one who apologized to us for calling us blackmailers--" - -"Yes?" - -"I'd hate to meet him on the street to-morrow. Five days. A lot could -happen in five days--" - -"What are your orders, Chief?" asked Howe. - -At that moment Minot, followed by Paddock was rushing triumphantly into -the Harrowby suite. He threw down on the table a package of letters. - -"There they are!" he cried. "I--" - -He stopped. - -"Thanks," said Lord Harrowby wildly. "Thanks a thousand times. My -dear Minot--we need you. My man has been to the theater--Trimmer is -organizing a mob to board the _Lileth_!" - -"Board the _Lileth_?" - -"Yes--to search for that creature who calls himself Lord Harrowby." - -"Come on, Jack," Minot said to Paddock. They ran down several flights -of stairs, through the lobby, and out into the street. - -"Where to?" panted Paddock. - -"The harbor!" Minot cried. - -As they passed the opera-house they saw a crowd forming and heard the -buzz of many voices. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -"AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" - -Mr. Paddock knew of a man on the water-front who had a gasoline launch -to rent, and fortunately it happened to be in commission. The two -young men leaped into it, Paddock started the engine, and they zipped -with reassuring speed over the dark waters toward the lights of the -_Lileth_. - -The accommodation ladder of the yacht was down, and leaving a member of -the crew to make fast the launch, Minot and Paddock climbed hurriedly -to the deck. Mr. Martin Wall was at the moment in the main cabin -engaged in a game of German whist, and his opponent was no less a -person than George Harrowby of the peerage. Upon this quiet game the -two young men rushed in. - -"Unexpected visitors," said Wall. "Why--what's the matter, boys?" - -"Come out on deck a minute," said Minot rapidly. Wall threw down his -cards and followed. Once outside, Minot went on: "No time to waste -words. Trimmer is collecting a mob in front of the opera-house, and -they are coming out here to search this boat. You know who they're -looking for." - -With exaggerated calmness Wall took out a cigar and lighted it. - -"Indeed?" he remarked. "I told you it might be advisable to look up -the penalty for kidnaping. But you knew best. Ah, the impetuosity of -youth!" - -"Well--this is no time to discuss that," replied Minot. "We've got to -act, and act quickly!" - -"Yes?" Mr. Wall drawled. "What would you suggest? Shall we drown him? -I've come to like George mighty well, but if you say the word--" - -"My plan is this," said Minot, annoyed by Wall's pleasantries. "Turn -George over to us. We'll bundle him into our launch and run off out of -sight behind Tarragona Island. Then, let Trimmer search to his heart's -content. When he gets tired and quits, signal us by hanging a red -lantern in the bow." - -Martin Wall smiled broadly. - -"Not bad for an amateur kidnaper," he said. "Will I turn George over -to you? Will a duck swim? A good idea." - -"For God's sake, hurry!" cried Minot. "Look!" - -He pointed to the largest of San Marco's piers. The moon was lost -under clouds now, but the electric lights on the water-front revealed a -swarming shouting crowd of people. Martin Wall stepped to the door of -the main cabin. - -"Lord Harrowby!" he cried. He turned to Minot and Paddock. "I call -him that to cheer him in captivity," he explained. The tall weary -Englishman strode out upon the deck. - -"Lord Harrowby," said Wall, "these two gentlemen have come to take you -for a boat ride. Will you be kind enough to step into that launch?" - -Poor old George pulled himself together. - -"If you'll pardon my language, I'll be damned if I do," he said. "I -take it Mr. Trimmer is on his way here. Well, gentlemen, the first to -grasp his hand when he boards the boat will be the chap who now -addresses you." - -They stood gazing doubtfully at George in revolt. Then Minot turned, -and saw a rowboat putting off from the pier. - -"Come on," he cried, and leaped on the shoulders of the aspirant to the -title. Paddock and Wall followed. Despite his discouraged appearance, -George put up a lively fight. For a time the four men struggled back -and forth across the deck, now in moonlight, now in shadow. Once -George slipped and fell, his three captors on top of him, and at that -moment Mr. Minot felt a terrific tugging at his coat. But the odds -were three to one against George Harrowby, and finally he was dragged -and pushed into the launch. Again Paddock started the engine, and that -odd boat load drew away from the _Lileth_. - -They had gone about ten feet when poor old George slipped out from -under Minot and leaped to his feet. - -"Hi--Trimmer--it's me--it's George--" he thundered in a startlingly -loud tone. Minot put his hand over George's lips, and they locked in -conflict. The small launch danced wildly on the waters. And -fortunately for Minot's plans the moon still hid behind the clouds. - -With a stretch of Tarragona's rank vegetation between them and the -_Lileth_, Mr. Paddock stopped the engine and they stood still on the -dark waters. Paddock lighted a cigarette, utilizing the same match to -consult his watch. - -"Ten o'clock," he said. "Can't say this is the jolliest little party I -was ever on." - -"Never mind," replied Minot cheerfully. "It won't take Trimmer fifteen -minutes to find that his proposition isn't on board. In twenty minutes -we'll slip back and look for the signal." - -The "proposition" in question sat up and straightened his collar. - -"The pater and I split," he said, "over the matter of my going to -Oxford. The old boy knew best. I wish now I'd gone. Then I might -have words to tell you chaps what I think of this damnable outrage." - -Minot and Paddock sat in silence. - -"I've been in America twenty odd years," the proposition went on. -"Seen all sorts of injustice and wrong--but I've lived to experience -the climax myself." - -Still silence from his captors, while the black waters swished about -the launch. - -"I take it you chaps believe me to be an impostor, just as Allan does. -Well, I'm not. And I'm going to give you my little talk on the old -days at Rakedale Hall. When I've finished--" - -"No, you're not," said Minot. "I've heard all that once." - -"And you weren't convinced? Why, everybody in San Marco is convinced. -The mayor, the chief of police, the--" - -"My dear George," said Minot with feeling. "It doesn't make the -slightest difference who you are. You and Trimmer stay separated until -after next Tuesday." - -"Yes. And rank injustice it is, too. We'll have the law on you for -this. We'll send you all to prison." - -"Pleasant thought," commented Paddock. "Mrs. Bruce would have to -develop lockjaw at the height of the social season. Oh, the devil--I'd -better be thinking about that luncheon." - -All thought. All sat there silent. The black waters became a little -rougher. On their surface small flecks of white began to appear. -Minot looked up at the dark sky. - -"Twenty-two after," said Paddock finally, and turned toward the engine. -"Heaven grant that red light is on view. This is getting on my nerves." - -Slyly the little launch poked its nose around the corner of the island -and peeped at the majestic _Lileth_. Paddock snorted. - -"Not a trace of it." - -"I must have underestimated the time," said Minot. "Wha--what's that?" - -"That? That's only thunder. Oh, this is going to be a pretty party!" - -Suddenly the heavens blazed with lightning. The swell of the waters -increased. Hastily Paddock backed the boat from the range of the -_Lileth's_ vision. - -"Trimmer must go soon," cried Minot. - -Fifteen minutes passed in eloquent silence. The lightning and the -thunder continued. - -"Try it again," Minot suggested. Again they peeped. And still no red -light on the _Lileth_. - -And even as they looked, out of the black heavens swept a sheet of -stinging rain. It lashed down on that frail tossing boat with cruel -force; it obscured the _Lileth_, the island, everything but the fact of -its own damp existence. In two seconds the men unprotected in that -tiny launch were pitiful dripping figures, and the glory of Mr. -Paddock's evening clothes departed never to return. - -"A fortune-teller in Albuquerque," said poor old George, "told me I was -to die of pneumonia. It'll be murder, gentlemen--plain murder." - -"It's suicide, too, isn't it?" snarled Paddock. "That ought to satisfy -you." - -"I'm sorry," said Minot through chattering teeth. - -No answer. The downfall continued. - -"The rain is raining everywhere," quoted Paddock gloomily. "It falls -on the umbrellas here, and on the ships at sea. Damn the ships at sea." - -"Here, here," said poor old George. - -A damp doleful pause. - -"Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for a -friend," continued Paddock presently. - -"A thousand apologies," Minot said. "But I'm running the same chances, -Jack." - -"Yes--but it's your party--your happy little party," replied Paddock. -"Not mine." - -Minot did not answer. He was as miserable as the others, and he could -scarcely blame his friend for losing temporarily his good nature. - -"It's after eleven," said Paddock, after another long pause. - -"Put in closer to the _Lileth_," suggested Minot. - -Mr. Paddock fumbled about beneath the canvas cover of the engine, and -they put in. But still no red light aboard the yacht. - -"I'd give a thousand dollars," said Paddock, "to know what's going on -aboard that boat." - -The knowledge would hardly have been worth the price he offered. -Aboard the _Lileth_, on the forward deck under a protecting awning, Mr. -Trimmer sat firmly planted in a chair. Beside him, in other chairs, -sat three prominent citizens of San Marco--one of them the chief of -police. Mr. Martin Wall was madly walking the deck near by. - -"Going to stay here all night?" he demanded at last. - -"All night, and all day to-morrow," replied Mr. Trimmer, "if necessary. -We're going to stay here until that boat that's carrying Lord Harrowby -comes back. You can't fool Henry Trimmer." - -"There isn't any such boat!" flared Martin Wall. - -"Tell it to the marines," remarked Trimmer, lighting a fresh cigar. - -Just as well that the three shivering figures huddled in the launch on -the heaving bosom of the waters could not see this picture. Mr. Wall -looked out at the rain, and shivered himself. - -Eleven-thirty came. And twelve. Two matches from Mr. Paddock's store -went to the discovery of these sad facts. Soaked to the skin, glum, -silent, the three on the waters sat staring at the unresponsive -_Lileth_. The rain was falling now in a fine drizzle. - -"I suppose," Paddock remarked, "we stay here until morning?" - -"We might try landing on Tarragona," said Minot. - -"We might try jumping into the ocean, too," responded Paddock, through -chattering teeth. - -"Murder," droned poor old George. "That's what it'll be." - -At one o'clock the three wet watchers beheld unusual things. Smoke -began to belch from the _Lileth's_ funnels. Her siren sounded. - -"She's steaming out!" cried Minot. "She's steaming out to sea!" - -And sure enough, the graceful yacht began to move--out past Tarragona -Island--out toward the open sea. - -Once more Paddock started his faithful engine, and, hallooing madly, -the three set out in pursuit. Not yet had the _Lileth_ struck its -gait, and in fifteen minutes they were alongside. Martin Wall, -beholding them from the deck, had a rather unexpected attack of pity, -and stopped his engines. The three limp watchers were taken aboard. - -"Wha--what does this mean?" chattered Minot. - -"You poor devils," said Martin Wall. "Come and have a drink. Mean?" -He poured. "It means that the only way I could get rid of our friend -Trimmer was to set out for New York." - -"For New York?" cried Minot, standing glass in hand. - -"Yes. Came on board, Trimmer did, searched the boat, and then declared -I'd shipped George away until his visit should be over. So he and his -friends--one of them the chief of police, by the way--sat down to wait -for your return. Gad--I thought of you out in that rain. Sat and sat -and sat. What could I do?" - -"To Trimmer, the brute," said Paddock, raising his glass. - -"Finally I had an idea. I had the boys pull up anchor and start the -engines. Trimmer wanted to know the answer. 'Leaving for New York -to-night,' I said. 'Want to come along?' He wasn't sure whether he -would go or not, but his friends were sure they wouldn't. Put up an -awful howl, and just before we got under way Mr. Trimmer and party -crawled into their rowboat and splashed back to San Marco." - -"Well--what now?" asked Minot. - -"I've made up my mind," said Wall. "Been intending to go back north -for some time, and now that I've started, I guess I'll keep on going." - -"Splendid," cried Minot. "And you'll take Mr. George Harrowby with -you?" - -Mr. Wall seemed in excellent spirits. He slapped Minot on the back. - -"If you say so, of course. Don't know exactly what they can do to -us--but I think George needs the sea air. How about it, your lordship?" - -Poor old George, drooping as he had never drooped before, looked -wearily into Wall's eyes. - -"What's the use?" he said. "Fight's all gone out of me. Losing -interest in what's next. Three hours on that blooming ocean with the -rain soaking in--I'm going to bed. I don't care what becomes of me." - -And he sloshed away to his cabin. - -"Well, boys, I'm afraid we'll have to put you off," said Martin Wall. -"Glad to have met both of you. Sometime in New York we may run into -each other again." - -He shook hands genially, and the two young men dropped once more into -that unhappy launch. As they sped toward the shore the _Lileth_, -behind them, was heading for the open sea. - -"Sorry if I've seemed to have a grouch to-night," said Paddock, as they -walked up the deserted avenue toward the hotel. "But these Florida -rain-storms aren't the pleasantest things to wear next to one's skin. -I apologize, Dick." - -"Nonsense," Minot answered. "Old Job himself would have frowned a bit -if he'd been through what you have to-night. It was my fault for -getting you into it--" - -"Forget it," Paddock said. "Well, it looks like a wedding, old man. -The letters home again, and George Harrowby headed for New York--a -three days' trip. Nothing to hinder now. Have you thought of that?" - -"I don't want to think," said Minot gloomily. "Good night, old man." - -Paddock sped up the stairs to his room, which was on the second floor, -and Minot turned toward the elevator. At that moment he saw -approaching him through the deserted lobby Mr. Jim O'Malley, the house -detective of the De la Pax. - -"Can we see you a minute in the office, Mr. Minot?" he asked. - -"Certainly," Minot answered. "But--I'm soaked through--was out in all -that rain--" - -"Too bad," said O'Malley, with a sympathetic glance. "We won't keep -you but a minute--" - -He led the way, and wondering, Minot followed. In the tiny office of -the hotel manager a bullet-headed man stood waiting. - -"My friend, Mr. Huntley, of the Secret Service," O'Malley explained. -"Awful sorry that this should happen. Mr. Minot but--we got to search -you." - -"Search me--for what?" Minot cried. - -And in a flash, he knew. Through that wild night he had not once -thought of it. But it was still in his inside coat pocket, of course. -Chain Lightning's Collar! - -"What does this mean?" he asked. - -"That's what they all say," grunted Huntley. "Come here, my boy. Say, -you're pretty wet. And shivering! Better have a warm bath and a -drink. Turn around, please. Ah--" - -With practised fingers the detective explored rapidly Mr. Minot's -person and pockets. The victim of the search stood limp, helpless. -What could he do? There was no escape. It was all up now--for -whatever reason they desired Chain Lightning's Collar, they could not -fail to have it in another minute. - -Side pockets--trousers pockets--now! The inner coat pocket! Its -contents were in the detective's hand. Minot stared down. A little -gasp escaped him. - -The envelope that held Chain Lightning's Collar was not among them! - -Two minutes longer Huntley pursued, then with an oath of disappointment -he turned to O'Malley. - -"Hasn't got it!" he announced. - -Minot swept aside the profuse apologies of the hotel detective, and -somehow got out of the room. In a daze, he sought 389. He didn't have -it! Didn't have Chain Lightning's Collar! Who did? - -It was while he sat steaming in a hot bath that an idea came to him. -The struggle on the deck of the _Lileth_, with Martin Wall panting at -his side! The tug on his coat as they all went down together. The -genial spirits of Wall thereafter. The sudden start for New York. - -No question about it--Chain Lightning's Collar was well out at sea now. - -And yet--why had Wall stopped to take the occupants of the launch -aboard? - -After his bath, Minot donned pajamas and a dressing-gown and ventured -out to find Lord Harrowby's suite. With difficulty he succeeded in -arousing the sleeping peer. Harrowby let him in, and then sat down on -his bed and stared at him. - -"What is it?" he inquired sleepily. - -Briefly Minot told him of the circumstances preceding the start of the -_Lileth_ for New York, of his return to the hotel, and the search party -he encountered there. Harrowby was very wide awake by this time. - -"That finishes us," he groaned. - -"Wait a minute," Minot said. "They didn't find the necklace. I didn't -have it. I'd lost it." - -"Lost it?" - -"Yes. And if you want my opinion, I think Martin Wall stole it from me -on the _Lileth_ and is now on his way--" - -Harrowby leaped from bed, and seized Minot gleefully by the hand. - -"Dear old chap. What the deuce do I care who took it. It's gone. -Thank God--it's gone." - -"But--I don't understand--" - -"No. But you can understand this much. Everything's all right. -Nothing in the way of the wedding now. It's splendid! Splendid!" - -"But--the necklace was stolen--" - -"Yes. Good! Very good! My dear Minot, the luckiest thing that can -happen to us will be--never, never to see Chain Lightning's Collar -again!" - -As completely at sea as he had been that night--which was more or less -at sea--Minot returned to his room. It was after three o'clock. He -turned out his lights and sought his bed. Many wild conjectures kept -him awake at first, but this had been the busiest day of his life. -Soon he slept, and dreamed thrilling dreams. - -The sun was bright outside his windows when he was aroused by a knock. - -"What is it?" he cried. - -"A package for you, sir," said a bell-boy voice. - -He slipped one arm outside his door to receive it--a neat little -bundle, securely tied, with his name written on the wrappings. -Sleepily he undid the cord, and took out--an envelope. - -He was no longer sleepy. He held the envelope open over his bed. -Chain Lightning's Collar tumbled, gleaming, upon the white sheet! - -Also in the package was a note, which Minot read breathlessly. - - -"DEAR MR. MINOT: - -"I have decided not to go north after all, and am back in the harbor -with the _Lileth_. As I expect Trimmer at any moment I have sent -George over to Tarragona Island in charge of two sailormen for the day. - - "Cordially, - "MARTIN WALL. - -"P.S. You dropped the enclosed in the scuffle on the boat last night." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -JERSEY CITY INTERFERES - -At ten o'clock that Saturday morning Lord Harrowby was engrossed in the -ceremony of breakfast in his rooms. For the occasion he wore an orange -and purple dressing-gown with a floral design no botanist could have -sanctioned--the sort of dressing-gown that Arnold Bennett, had he seen -it, would have made a leading character in a novel. He was cheerful, -was Harrowby, and as he glanced through an old copy of the _London -Times_ he made strange noises in his throat, under the impression that -he was humming a musical comedy chorus. - -There was a knock, and Harrowby cried: "Come in." Mr. Minot, fresh as -the morning and nowhere near so hot, entered. - -"Feeling pretty satisfied with life, I'll wager," Minot suggested. - -"My dear chap, gay as--as--a robin," Harrowby replied. - -"Snatch your last giggle," said Minot. "Have one final laugh, and make -it a good one. Then wake up." - -"Wake up? Why, I am awake--" - -"Oh, no--you're dreaming on a bed of roses. Listen! Martin Wall -didn't go north with the impostor after all. Changed his mind. Look!" - -And Minot tossed something on the table, just abaft his lordship's eggs. - -"The devil! Chain Lightning's Collar!" cried Harrowby. - -"Back to its original storage vault," said Minot. "What is this, -Harrowby? A Drury Lane melodrama?" - -"My word. I can't make it out." - -"Can't you? Got the necklace back this morning with a note from Martin -Wall, saying I dropped it last night in the scrap on the deck of the -_Lileth_." - -"Confound the thing!" sighed Harrowby, staring morosely at the diamonds. - -"My first impulse," said Minot, "is to hand the necklace back to you -and gracefully withdraw. But of course I'm here to look after -Jephson's interests--" - -"Naturally," put in Harrowby quickly. "And let me tell you that should -this necklace be found before the wedding, Jephson is practically -certain to pay that policy. I think you'd better keep it. They're not -likely to search you again. If I took it--dear old chap--they search -me every little while." - -"You didn't steal this, did you?" Minot asked. - -"Of course not." Harrowby flushed a delicate pink. "It belongs in our -family--has for years. Everybody knows that." - -"Well, what is the trouble?" - -"I'll explain it all later. There's really nothing dishonorable--as -men of the world look at such things. I give you my word that you can -serve Mr. Jephson best by keeping the necklace for the present--and -seeing to it that it does not fall into the hands of the men who are -looking for it." - -Minot sat staring gloomily ahead of him. Then he reached out, took up -the necklace, and restored it to his pocket. - -"Oh, very well," he said. "If I'm sent to jail, tell Thacker I went -singing an epithalamium." He rose. - -"By the way," Harrowby remarked, "I'm giving a little dinner -to-night--at the Manhattan Club. May I count on you?" - -"Surely," Minot smiled. "I'll be there, wearing our necklace." - -"My dear fellow--ah, I see you mean it pleasantly. Wear it, by all -means." - -Minot passed from the eccentric blooms of that dressing-gown to the -more authentic flowers of the Florida outdoors. In the plaza he met -Cynthia Meyrick, rival candidate to the morning in its glory. - -"Matrimony," she said, "is more trouble than it seems on a moonlit -night under the palms. I've never been so busy in my life. By the -way, two of my bridesmaids arrived from New York last night. Lovely -girls--both of them. But I forget!" - -"Forget what?" - -"Your young heart is already ensnared, isn't it?" - -"Yes," replied Minot fervently. "It is. But no matter. Tell me about -your preparations for the wedding. I should like to enjoy the thrill -of it--by proxy." - -"How like a man--wants all the thrill and none of the bother. It's -dreadfully hard staging a wedding, way down here a thousand miles from -everything. But--my gown came last night from Paris. Can you imagine -the thrill of that!" - -"Only faintly." - -"How stupid being a man must be." - -"And how glorious being a girl, with man only an afterthought--even at -wedding time." - -"Poor Harrowby! He keeps in the lime-light fairly well, however." -They walked along a moment in silence. "I've wondered," she said at -length. "Why _did_ you kidnap--Mr. Trimmer's--friend?" - -"Because--" - -"Yes?"--eagerly. - -Minot looked at her, and something rose in his throat to choke him. - -"I can't tell you," he said. "It is the fault of--the Master of the -Show. I'm only the pawn--the baffled, raging, unhappy little pawn. -That's all I can tell you. You--you were speaking of your wedding -gown?" - -"A present from Aunt Mary," she answered, a strange tenderness in her -tone. "For a good little girl who's caught a lord." - -"A charming little girl," said Minot softly. "May I say that?" - -"Yes--" Her brown eyes glowed. "I'm--glad--to have you--say it. I go -in here. Good-by--Mr. Kidnaper." - -She disappeared into a shop, and Minot walked slowly down the street. -Girls from Peoria and Paris, from Boise City and London, passed by. -Girls chaperoned and girls alone--tourist girls in swarms. And not a -few of them wondered why such a good-looking young man should appear to -be so sorry for himself. - -Returning to the hotel at noon, Minot met Martin Wall on the veranda. - -"Lucky I put old George on Tarragona for the day," Wall confided. "As -I expected, Trimmer was out to call early this morning. Searched the -ship from stem to stern. I rather think we have Mr. Trimmer up a tree. -He went away not quite so sure of himself." - -"Good," Minot answered. "So you changed your mind about going north?" - -"Yes. Think I'll stay over for the wedding. By the way, wasn't that -Chain Lightning's Collar you left behind you last night?" - -"Y--yes." - -"Thought so. You ought to be more careful. People might suspect you -of being the thief at Mrs. Bruce's." - -"If you think that, I wish you'd speak to his lordship." - -"I have. Your innocence is established. And I've promised Harrowby to -keep his little mystery dark." - -"You're very kind," said Minot, and went on into the hotel. - -The remainder of the day passed lazily. Dick Minot felt lost indeed, -for seemingly there were no more doughty deeds to be done in the name -of Jephson. The Gaiety lady was gone; her letters were in the hands of -the man who had written them. The claimant to the title languished -among the alligators of Tarragona, a prisoner. Trimmer appeared to be -baffled. Bridesmaids arrived. The wedding gown appeared. It looked -like smooth sailing now. - -Jack Paddock, met for a moment late in the afternoon, announced airily: - -"By the way, the Duke and Duchess of Lismore have come. You know--the -sausage lady and her captive. My word--you should see her! A wardrobe -to draw tears of envy from a theatrical star. Fifty costly -necklaces--and only one neck!" - -"Tragic," smiled Minot. - -"Funny thing's happened," Paddock whispered. "I met the duchess once -abroad. She sent for me this noon and almost bowled me over. Seems -she's heard of Mrs. Bruce as the wittiest woman in San Marco. And -she's jealous. 'You're a clever boy,' says her ladyship to me. 'Coach -me up so I can outshine Mrs. Bruce.' What do you know?" - -"Ah--but you were the pioneer," Minot reminded him. - -"Well, I was, for that matter," said Mr. Paddock. "But I know now it -wasn't a clever idea, if this woman can think of it, too." - -"What did you tell her?" - -"I was shocked. I showed it. It seemed deception to me. Still--she -made me an offer that--well, I told her I'd think it over." - -"Good heavens, Jack! You wouldn't try to sell 'em both dialogue?" - -"Why not? Play one against the other--make 'em keener for my goods. -I've got a notion to clean up here quick and then go back to the real -stuff. That little girl from the Middle West--I've forgot all about -her, of course. But speaking of cleaning up--I'm thinking of it, Dick, -my boy. Yes, I believe I'll take them both on--secretly, of course. -It means hard work for me, but when one loves one's art, no service -seems too tough." - -"You're hopeless," Minot groaned. - -"Say not so," laughed Paddock, and went away humming a frivolous tune. - -At a quarter before seven, for the first time, Minot entered Mr. Tom -Stacy's Manhattan Club and Grill. To any one who crossed Mr. Stacy's -threshold with the expectation of immediately encountering lights and -gaiety, the first view of the interior came as a distinct shock. The -main dining-room of the Manhattan Club was dim with the holy dimness of -a cathedral. Its lamps, hung high, were buried in oriental trappings, -and shone half-heartedly. Faintly through the gloom could be discerned -white table-cloths, gleaming silver. The scene demanded hushed voices, -noiseless footsteps. It got both. - -The main dining-room was hollowed out of the center of the great stone -building, and its roof was off in the dark three stories above. On -each side of the entrance, stairways led to second and third-floor -balconies which stretched around the room on three sides. From these -balconies doors opened into innumerable rooms--rooms where lights shone -brighter, and from which the chief of police, when he came to make -certain financial arrangements with Mr. Stacy, heard frequently a -gentle click-click. - -It may have been that the furnishings of the main dining-room and the -balconies were there before Mr. Stacy's coming, or again they may have -set forth his own idea of suitable decoration. Looking about him, Mr. -Minot was reminded of a play like _Sumurun_ after three hard seasons on -the road. Moth-eaten rugs and musty tapestries hung everywhere. Here -and there an atrocious cozy corner belied its name. Iron lanterns gave -parsimonious light. Aged sofa-pillows lay limply. "Oriental," Mr. -Stacy would have called the effect. Here in this dim, but scarcely -religious light, the patrons of his "grill" ate their food, being not -without misgivings as they stared through the gloom at their plates. - -The long tables for the Harrowby dinner were already set, and about -them hovered waiters of a color to match the room. Most of the guests -had arrived. Mr. Paddock made it a point to introduce Mr. Minot at -once to the Duchess of Lismore. This noble lady with the packing-house -past was making a commendable effort to lighten the Manhattan Club by a -wonderful display of jewels. - -"Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, when a new planet swims -into his ken," whispered Minot, as the duchess moved away. - -Paddock laughed. - -"A dowdy little woman by day, but a pillar of fire by night," he -agreed. "By the way, I'm foreman of her composing-room, beginning -to-morrow." - -"Be careful, Jack," Minot warned. - -"A double life from now on," Paddock replied, "but I think I can get -away with it. Say, for ways that are dark this man Stacy seems to hold -a better hand than the heathen Chinee." - -In one corner the portly Spencer Meyrick was orating to a circle of -young people on the evils of gambling. Minot turned away, smiling -cynically. Meyrick, as everybody knew, had made a large part of his -fortune in Wall Street. - -The dinner was much larger than Mrs. Bruce's. Minot met a number of -new people--the anemic husband of the jewels, smug in his dukedom, and -several very attractive girls thrilled at being present in Mr. Stacy's -sinful lair. He bestowed a smile upon Aunt Mary, serene among the best -people, and discussed with Mrs. Bruce--who wasted no boughten wit on -him--the Florida climate. Also, he asked the elder of the Omaha girls -if she had heard of Mr. Nat Goodwin's latest wife. - -For once the dinner itself was a minor event. It sped rapidly there in -the gloom, and few so much as listened to the flashes of Mrs. Bruce's -wit--save perhaps the duchess, enviously. It was after the dinner, -when Harrowby led his guests to the entertainment above, that interest -grew tense. - -No gloom in that bright room overhead. A cluster of electric lights -shed their brilliance on Mr. Stacy's pet roulette tables, set amid -parlor furnishings of atrocious plush. From one corner a faro lay-out -that had once flourished on Fifty-eighth Street, New York, beckoned. -And on each side, through open doors, might be seen rooms furnished for -the game of poker. - -Mr. Stacy's assistant, a polished gentleman with a face like aged -ivory, presided over the roulette table. He swung the wheel a few -times, an inviting smile on his face. Harrowby, his eyes bright, laid -a sum of money beside a row of innocent figures. He won. He tried -again, and won. Some of the young women pushed close to the table, -visibly affected. Others pretended this sort of thing was an old story -to them. - -A few of the more adventurous women borrowed coins from the men, and -joined in the play. Arguments and misunderstandings arose, which Mr. -Stacy's assistant urbanely settled. More of the men--Paddock among -them--laid money on the table. - -A buzz of excited conversation, punctuated now and then by a deathly -silence as the wheel spun and the little ball hovered heart-breakingly, -filled the room. Cheeks glowed red, eyes sparkled, the crush about the -table increased. Spencer Meyrick himself risked from his endless -store. Mr. Tom Stacy's place was in full swing. - -Dick Minot caught Cynthia Meyrick's glance as she stood close beside -Lord Harrowby. She seemed another girl to-night, grave rather than -gay, her great brown eyes apparently looking into the future, -wondering, fearing. As for Harrowby, he was a man transformed. Not -for nothing was he the son of the sporting Earl of Raybrook--the peer -who never failed to take a risk. The excitement of the game was -reflected in his tall tense figure, his flaming cheeks. This was the -Harrowby who had made Jephson that gambling proposition on a -seventeenth floor in New York. - -And Harrowby won consistently. Won, until a fatal choice of numbers -with an overwhelming stake left him poor again, and he saw all his -winnings swept to swell Tom Stacy's store. Quickly he wormed his way -out of the crowd and sought Minot. - -"May I see you a moment?" he asked. "Out here." And he led the way to -the gloom of the balcony. - -"If I only had the cash," Harrowby whispered excitedly, "I could break -Stacy to-night. And I'm going to get it. Will you give me the -necklace, please." - -"You forget," Minot objected, "that the necklace is supposed to have -been stolen." - -"No. No. That's no matter. I'll arrange that. Hurry--" - -"You forget, too, that you told me this morning that should this -necklace be found now--" - -"Mr. Minot--the necklace belongs to me. Will you kindly let me have -it." - -"Certainly," said Minot coldly. And, much annoyed, he returned to the -room amid the buzz and the thrill of gambling. - -Harrowby ran quickly down the stairs. In the office of the club he -found Tom Stacy in amiable converse with Martin Wall. He threw Chain -Lightning's Collar on the manager's desk. - -"How much can you loan me on that?" he demanded. - -With a grunt of surprise, Mr. Stacy took up the famous collar in his -thick fingers. He gazed at it for a moment. Then he looked up, and -caught Martin Wall's crafty eye over Harrowby's shoulder. - -"Not a cent," said Mr. Stacy firmly. - -"What! I don't understand." Harrowby gazed at him blankly. "It's -worth--" - -"Not a cent," Stacy repeated. "That's final." - -Harrowby turned appealingly to Martin Wall. - -"You--" he pleaded. - -"I'm not investing," Wall replied, with a queer smile. - -Lord Harrowby restored the necklace to his pocket and, crestfallen, -gloomy, went back to the room above. - -"Wouldn't loan me anything on it," he whispered to Minot. "I don't -understand, really." - -Thereafter Harrowby suffered the pain of watching others play. And -while he watched, in the little office down-stairs, a scene of vital -bearing on his future was enacted. - -A short stocky man with a bullet-shaped head had pushed open the door -on Messrs. Stacy and Wall. He stood, looking about him with a cynical -smile. - -"Hello, Tom," he said. - -"Old Bill Huntley!" cried Stacy. "By gad, you gave me a turn. I -forgot for a minute that you can't raid me down here." - -"Them happy days is past," returned Mr. Huntley dryly. "I'm working -for Uncle Sam, now, Tom. Got new fish to fry. Used to have some gay -times in New York, didn't we? Oh, hello, Craig!" - -"My name is Martin Wall," said that gentleman stiffly. - -"Ain't he got the lovely manners," said Huntley, pretending admiration. -"Always did have, too. And the swell friends. Still going round in -the caviar crowd, I hear. What if I was to tell your friends here who -you are?" - -"You won't do that," said Wall, outwardly unshaken, but his breath came -faster. - -"Oh--you're sure of that, are you?" - -"Yes. Who I am isn't one of your worries in your new line of business. -And you're going to keep still because I can do you a favor--and I -will." - -"Thanks, Craig. Excuse me--Martin Wall. Sort of a strain keeping -track of your names, you know." - -"Forget that. I say I can do you a favor--if you'll promise not to mix -in my affairs." - -"Well--what is it?" - -"You're down here looking for a diamond necklace known as Chain -Lightning's Collar." - -"Great little guesser, you are. Well--what about it?" - -"Promise?" - -"You deliver the goods, and I'll see." - -"All right. You'll find that necklace in Lord Harrowby's pocket right -now. And you'll find Lord Harrowby in a room up-stairs." - -Mr. Huntley stood for a moment staring at the man he called Craig. -Then with a grunt he turned away. - -Two minutes later, in the bright room above, that same rather vulgar -grunt sounded in Lord Harrowby's patrician ear. He turned, and his -face paled. Hopelessly he looked toward Minot. Then without a word he -followed Huntley from the room. - -Only two of that excited crowd about the wheel noticed. And these two -fled simultaneously to the balcony. There, half hidden behind an -ancient musty rug, Cynthia Meyrick and Minot watched together. - -Harrowby and Huntley descended the soft stairs. At the bottom, Martin -Wall and Stacy were waiting. The sound of voices pitched low could be -heard on the balcony, but though they strained to hear, the pair above -could not. However, they could see the plebeian hand of Mr. Huntley -held out to Lord Harrowby. They could see Harrowby reach into his -pocket, and bring forth a white envelope. Next they beheld Chain -Lightning's Collar gleam in the dusk as Huntley held it up. A few low -words, and Harrowby went out with the detective. - -Martin Wall ascended the stair. On the dim balcony he was confronted -by a white-faced girl whose wonderful copper hair had once held Chain -Lightning's Collar. - -"What does it mean?" she asked, her voice low and tense. - -"Mean?" Martin Wall laughed. "It means that Lord Harrowby must go -north and face a United States Commissioner in Jersey City. It seems -that when he brought that necklace over he quite forgot to tell the -customs officials about it." - -"Go north! When?" - -"To-night. On the midnight train. North to Jersey City." - -Mr. Wall went into the bright room where the excitement buzzed on, -oblivious. Cynthia Meyrick turned to Minot. - -"But he can't possibly get back--" she cried. - -"No. He can't get back. I'm sorry." - -"And my wedding dress--came last night." - -She stood clutching a moth-eaten tapestry in her slim white hand. In -the gloom of that dull old balcony her eyes shone strangely. - -"Some things aren't to be," she whispered. "And"--very -faintly--"others are." - -A thrill shot through Minot, sharp as a pain, but glorious. What did -she mean by that? What indeed but the one thing that must not -happen--the thing he wanted most of all things in the world to -happen--the thing he had come to San Marco to prevent. He came closer -to her--and closer--the blood was pounding in his brain. Dazed, -exulting, he held out his arms. - -"Cynthia!" he cried. - -And then suddenly behind her, on the stairs, he caught sight of a great -bald head ascending through the dusk. It was an ordinary bald head, -the property of Mr. Stacy in fact, but to Minot a certain Jephson -seemed to be moving beneath it He remembered. His arms fell to his -sides. He turned away. - -"We must see what can be done," he said mechanically. - -"Yes," Cynthia Meyrick agreed in an odd tone, "we must see what can be -done." - -And a tear, unnoticed, fell on Mr. Stacy's aged oriental tapestry. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -A BIT OF A BLOW - -Miss Meyrick turned back toward the room of chance to find her father. -Minot, meanwhile, ran down the steps, obtained his hat and coat, and -hurried across the street to the hotel. He went at once to Harrowby's -rooms. - -There he encountered a scene of wild disorder. The round-faced valet -was packing trunks against time, and his time-keeper, Mr. Bill Huntley, -sat in a corner, grim and silent, watch in hand. Lord Harrowby paced -the floor madly. When he saw Minot he held out his long, lean, -helpless hands. - -"You've heard, old boy?" he said. - -"Yes, I've heard," said Minot sharply. "A fine fix, Harrowby. Why the -deuce didn't you pay the duty on that necklace?" - -"Dear boy! Was saving every cent I had for--you know what. Besides, I -heard of such a clever scheme for slipping it in--" - -"Never mind that! Mr. Huntley, this gentleman was to have been married -on Tuesday. Can't you hold off until then?" - -"Nothing doing," said Mr. Huntley firmly. "I got to get back to New -York. He'll have to postpone his wedding. Ought to have thought of -these things before he pulled off his little stunt." - -"It's no use, Minot," said Harrowby hopelessly. "I've gone all over it -with this chap. He won't listen to reason. What the deuce am I to do?" - -A knock sounded on the door and Spencer Meyrick, red-faced, flirting -with apoplexy, strode into the room. - -"Lord Harrowby," he announced, "I desire to see you alone." - -"Er--step into the bedroom," Harrowby suggested. - -Mr. Huntley rose promptly to his feet. - -"Nix," he said. "There's a door out of that room leading into the -hall. If you go in there, I go, too." - -Mr. Meyrick glared. Harrowby stood embarrassed. - -"Very well," said Meyrick through his teeth. "We'll stay here. It -doesn't matter to me. I simply want to say, Lord Harrowby, that when -you get to Jersey City you needn't trouble to come back, as far as my -family is concerned." - -A look of pain came into Harrowby's thin face. - -"Not come back," he said. "My dear sir--" - -"That's what I said. I'm a plain man, Harrowby. A plain American. It -doesn't seem to me that marrying into the British nobility is worth all -the trouble it's costing us--" - -"But really--" - -"It may be, but it doesn't look that way to me. I prefer a simple -wedding to a series of vaudeville acts. If you think I'm going to -stand for the publicity of this latest affair, you're mistaken. I've -talked matters over with Cynthia--the marriage is off--for good!" - -"But my dear sir, Cynthia and I are very fond of each other--" - -"I don't give a damn if you are!" Meyrick fumed. "This is the last -straw. I'm through with you. Good night, and good-by." - -He stamped out as he had come, and Lord Harrowby fell limply into a -chair. - -"All over, and all done," he moaned. - -"And Jephson loses," said Minot with mixed emotions. - -"Yes--I'm sorry." Harrowby shook his head tragically. "Sorrier than -you are, old chap. I love Cynthia Meyrick--really I do. This is a bit -of a blow." - -"Come, come!" cried Mr. Huntley. "I'm not going to miss that train -while you play-act. We've only got half an hour, now." - -Harrowby rose unhappily and went into the inner room, Huntley at his -heels. Minot sat, his unseeing eyes gazing down at the old copy of the -_London Times_ which Harrowby had been reading that morning at -breakfast. - -Gradually, despite his preoccupation, a name in a head-line forced -itself to his attention. Courtney Giles. Where had he heard that name -before? He picked up the _Times_ from the table on which it was lying. -He read: - -"_The Ardent Lover_, the new romantic comedy in which Courtney Giles -has appeared briefly at the West End Road Theater, will be removed from -the boards to-night. The public has not been appreciative. If truth -must be told--and bitter truth it is--the once beloved matinée idol has -become too fat to hold his old admirers, and they have drifted steadily -to other, slimmer gods. Mr. Giles' early retirement from the stage is -rumored." - -Minot threw down the paper. Poor old Jephson! First the rain on the -dowager duchess, then an actor's expanding waist--and to-morrow the -news that Harrowby's wedding was not to be. Why, it would ruin the man! - -Minot stepped to the door of the inner room. - -"I'm going out to think," he announced. "I'll see you in the lobby -before you leave." - -Two minutes later, in the summer-house where he had bid good-by to the -sparkling Gaiety lady, he sat puffing furiously at a cigar. Back into -the past as it concerned Chain Lightning's Collar he went. That night -when Cynthia Meyrick had worn it in her hair, and Harrowby, hearing of -the search for it--had snatched it in the dark. His own guardianship -of the valuable trinket--Martin Wall's invasion of his rooms--the -"dropping" of the jewels on shipboard, and the return of them by Mr. -Wall next morning. And last, but not least, Mr. Stacy's firm refusal -to loan money on the necklace that very night. - -All these things Minot pondered. - -Meanwhile Harrowby, having finished his packing, descended to the lobby -of the De la Pax. In a certain pink parlor he found Cynthia Meyrick, -and stood gazing helplessly into her eyes. - -"Cynthia--your father said--is it true?" - -"It's true, Allan." - -"You too wish the wedding--indefinitely postponed?" - -"Father thinks it best--" - -"But you?" He came closer. "You, Cynthia?" - -"I--I don't know. There has been so much trouble, Allan--" - -"I know. And I'm fearfully sorry about this latest. But, Cynthia--you -mustn't send me away--I love you. Do you doubt that?" - -"No, Allan." - -"You're the most wonderful girl who has ever come into my life--I want -you in it always--beside me--" - -"At any rate, Allan, a wedding next Tuesday is impossible now." - -"Yes, I'm afraid it is. And after that--" - -"After that--I don't know, Allan." - -Aunt Mary came into the room, distress written plainly in her plump -face. No misstep of the peerage was beyond Aunt Mary's forgiveness. -She took Harrowby's hand. - -"I'm so sorry, your lordship," she said. "Most unfortunate. But I'm -sure it will all be cleared away in time--" - -Mr. Huntley made it a point to interrupt. He stood at the door, watch -in hand. - -"Come on," he said. "We've got to start." - -Harrowby followed the ladies from the room. In the lobby Spencer -Meyrick joined them. His lordship shook hands with Aunt Mary, with Mr. -Meyrick--then he turned to the girl. - -"Good-by, Cynthia," he said unhappily. He took her slim white hand in -his. Then he turned quickly and started with Huntley for the door. - -It was at this point that Mr. Minot, his cigar and his cogitations -finished, entered upon the scene. - -"Just a minute," he said to Mr. Huntley. - -"Not another minute," remarked Huntley with decision. "Not for the -King of England himself. We got just fifteen of 'em left to catch that -train, and if I know San Marco hackmen--" - -"You've got time to answer one or two questions." Impressed by Minot's -tone, the Meyrick family moved nearer. "There's no doubt, is there, -Mr. Huntley, that the necklace you have in your pocket is the one Lord -Harrowby brought from England?" - -"Of course not. Now, get out of the way--" - -"Are you a good judge of jewels, Mr. Huntley?" - -"Well, I've got a little reputation in that line. But say--" - -"Then I suggest," said Minot impressively, "that you examine Chain -Lightning's Collar closely." - -"Thanks for the suggestion," sneered Mr. Huntley. "I'll follow -it--when I get time. Just now I've got to--" - -"You'd better follow it now--before you catch a train. Otherwise you -may be so unfortunate as to make a fool of yourself." - -Mr. Huntley stood, hesitating. There was something in Minot's tone -that rang true. The detective again looked at his watch. Then, with -one of his celebrated grunts, he pulled out the necklace, and stood -staring at it with a new expression. - -He grunted again, and stepped to a near-by writing-desk, above which -hung a powerful electric light. The others followed. Mr. Huntley laid -the necklace on the desk, and took out a small microscope which was -attached to one end of his watch-chain. With rapt gaze he stared at -the largest of the diamonds. He went the length of the string, -examining each stone in turn. The expression on Mr. Huntley's face -would have made him a star in the "movies." - -"Hell!" he cried, and threw Chain Lightning's Collar down on the desk. - -"What's the matter?" Mr. Minot smiled. - -"Glass," snarled Huntley. "Fine old bottle glass. What do you know -about that?" - -"But really--it can't be--" put in Harrowby. - -"Well it is," Mr. Huntley glared at him. "The inspector might have -known you moth-eaten noblemen ain't got any of the real stuff left." - -"I won't believe it--" Harrowby began, but caught Minot's eye. - -"It's true, just the same," Minot said. "By the way, Mr. Huntley, how -much is that little ornament worth?" - -"About nine dollars and twenty-five cents." Mr. Huntley still glared -angrily. - -"Well--you can't take Lord Harrowby back for not declaring that, can -you?" - -"No," snorted Huntley. "But I can go back myself, and I'm going--on -that midnight train. Good-by." - -Minot followed him to the door. - -"Aren't you going to thank me?" he asked. "You know, I saved you--" - -"Thank you! Hell!" said Huntley, and disappeared into the dark. - -When Minot returned he found Harrowby standing facing the Meyricks, and -holding the necklace in his hand as though it were a bomb on the point -of exploding. - -"I say, I feel rather low," he was saying, "when I remember that I made -you a present of this thing, Cynthia. But on my honor, I didn't know. -And I can scarcely believe it now. I know the governor has been -financially embarrassed--but I never suspected him of this--the -associations were so dear--really--" - -"It may not have been your father who duplicated Chain Lightning's -Collar with a fake," Minot suggested. - -"My word, old boy, who then?" - -"You remember," said Minot, addressing the Meyricks, "that the necklace -was stolen recently. Well--it was returned to Lord Harrowby under -unusual circumstances. At least, this collection of glass was -returned. My theory is that the thief had a duplicate made--an old -trick." - -"The very idea," Harrowby cried. "I say, Minot, you are clever. I -should never have thought of that." - -"Thanks," said Minot dryly. He sought to avoid Miss Cynthia Meyrick's -eyes. - -"Er--by the way," said Harrowby, looking at Spencer Meyrick. "There is -nothing to prevent the wedding now." - -The old man shrugged his shoulders. - -"I leave that to my daughter," he said, and turned away. - -"Cynthia?" Harrowby pleaded. - -Miss Meyrick cast a strange look at Minot, standing forlorn before her. -And then she smiled--not very happily. - -"There seems to be no reason for changing our plans," she said slowly. -"It would be a great disappointment to--so many people. Good night." - -Minot followed her to the elevator. - -"It's as I told you this morning," he said miserably. "I'm just one of -the pawns in the hands of the Master of the Show. I can't explain--" - -"What is there to explain?" the girl asked coldly. "I congratulate you -on a highly successful evening." - -The elevator door banged shut between them. - -Turning, Minot encountered Aunt Mary. - -"You clever boy," she cried. "We are all so very grateful to you. You -have saved us from a very embarrassing situation." - -"Please don't mention it," Minot replied, and he meant it. - -He sat down beside the dazed Harrowby on one of the lobby sofas. - -"I'm all at sea, really, old chap," Harrowby confessed. "But I must -say--I admire you tremendously. How the devil did you know the -necklace was a fraud?" - -"I didn't know--I guessed," said Minot. "And the thing that led me to -make that happy guess was Tom Stacy's refusal to loan you money on it -to-night. Mr. Stacy is no fool." - -"And you think that Martin Wall has the real Chain Lightning's Collar?" - -"It looks that way to me. There's only one thing against my theory. -He didn't clear out when he had the chance. But he may be staying on -to avert suspicion. We haven't any evidence to arrest him on--and if -we did there'd be the customs people to deal with. If I were you I'd -hire a private detective to watch Wall, and try to get the real -necklace back without enlisting the arm of the law." - -"Really," said Harrowby, "things are happening so swiftly I'm at a loss -to follow them. I am, old boy. First one obstacle and then another. -You've been splendid, Minot, splendid. I want to thank you for all you -have done. I thought to-night the wedding had gone glimmering. And -I'm fond of Miss Meyrick. Tremendously." - -"Don't thank me," Minot replied. "I'm not doing it for you--we both -know that. I'm protecting Jephson's money. In a few days, -wedding-bells. And then me back to New York, shouting never again on -the Cupid act. If I'm ever roped into another job like this--" - -"It has been a trying position for you," Harrowby said sympathetically. -"And you've done nobly. I'm sure your troubles are all out of the way -now. With the necklace worry gone--" - -He paused. For across the lobby toward them walked Henry Trimmer, and -his walk was that of a man who is going somewhere. - -"Ah--Mister Harrowby," he boomed, "and Mr. Minot I've been looking for -you both. It will interest you to know that I had a wireless message -from Lord Harrowby this noon." - -"A wireless?" cried Minot. - -"Yes." Trimmer laughed. "Not such a fool as you think him, Lord -Harrowby isn't. Managed to send me a wireless from Tarragona despite -the attentions of your friends. So I went out there this afternoon and -brought George back with me." - -Silently Minot and Harrowby stared at each other. - -"Yes," Mr. Trimmer went on, "George is back again--back under the -direction of little me, a publicity man with no grass under the feet. -I've come to give you gentlemen your choice. You either see Lord -Harrowby to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and recognize his claims, or -I'll have you both thrown into jail for kidnaping." - -"To-morrow morning at ten," Harrowby repeated gloomily. - -"That's what I said," replied Mr. Trimmer blithely. "How about it, -little brother?" - -"Minot--what would you advise?" - -"See him," sighed Minot. - -"Very well." Harrowby's tone was resigned. "I presume I'd better." - -"Ah--coming to your senses, aren't you?" said Trimmer. "I hope we -aren't spoiling the joyous wedding-day. But then, what I say is, if -the girl's marrying you just for the title--" - -Harrowby leaped to his feet - -"You haven't been asked for an opinion," he said. - -"No, of course not. Don't get excited. I'll see you both in the -morning at ten." And Mr. Trimmer strolled elegantly away. - -Harrowby turned hopefully Jo Minot. - -"At ten in the morning," he repeated. "Old chap, what are we going to -do at ten in the morning?" - -"I don't know," smiled Minot. "But if past performances mean anything, -we'll win." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND - -"What's the matter with you?" - -Seated in the lobby of the De la Pax on Sunday morning, Mr. Trimmer -turned a disapproving eye upon the lank Englishman at his side as he -made this query. And his question was not without good foundation. -For the aspirant to the title of Lord Harrowby was at the moment a -jelly quaking with fear. - -"Fawncy meeting you after all these years," said poor old George in an -uncertain treble. - -"Come, come," cried Mr. Trimmer, "put a little more authority into your -voice. You can't walk up and claim your rights with your knees dancing -the tango. This is the moment we've been looking forward to. Act -determined. Walk into that room up-stairs as though you were walking -into Rakedale Hall to take charge of it." - -"Allan, don't you know me--I'm your brother George," went on the -Englishman, intent on rehearsing. - -"More like it," said Trimmer. "Put the fire into it. You're not -expecting a thrashing, you know. You're expecting the title and -recognition that belongs to you. I wish I was the real Lord Harrowby. -I guess I'd show 'em a thing or two." - -"I wish you was," agreed poor old George sadly. "Somehow, I don't seem -to have the spirit I used to have." - -"A good point," commented Trimmer. "Years of wrong and suffering have -made you timid. I'll call that to their attention. Five minutes of -ten, your lordship." - -His lordship groaned. - -"All right, I'm ready," he said. "What is it I say as I go in? Oh, -yes--" He stepped into the elevator--"Fawncy seeing you after all -these years." - -The negro elevator boy was somewhat startled at this greeting, but -regained his composure and started the car. Mr. Trimmer and his -"proposition" shot up toward their great opportunity. - -In Lord Harrowby's suite that gentleman sat in considerable -nervousness, awaiting the undesired encounter. With him sat Miss -Meyrick and her father, whom he had thought it necessary to invite to -witness the ordeal. Mr. Richard Minot uneasily paced the floor, -avoiding as much as possible the glances of Miss Meyrick's brown eyes. -Ten o'clock was upon him, and Mr. Minot was no nearer a plan of action -than he had been the preceding night. - -Every good press agent is not without a live theatrical sense, and Mr. -Trimmer was no exception. He left his trembling claimant in the -entrance hall and strode into the room. - -"Good morning," he said brightly. "Here we are, on time to the minute. -Ah--I beg your pardon." - -Lord Harrowby performed brief introductions, which Mr. Trimmer -effusively acknowledged. Then he turned dramatically toward his -lordship. - -"Out here in the hallway stands a poor broken creature," he began. -"Your own flesh and blood, Allan Harrowby." Obviously Mr. Trimmer had -prepared speeches for himself as well as for poor old George. "For -twenty odd and impecunious years," he went on, "this man has been -denied his just heritage. We are here this morning to perform a duty--" - -"My dear fellow," broke in Harrowby wearily, "why should you inflict -oratory upon us? Bring in this--er--gentleman." - -"That I will," replied Trimmer heartily. "And when you have heard his -story, digested his evidence, I am sure--" - -"Yes, yes. Bring him in." - -Mr. Trimmer stepped to the door. He beckoned. A very reluctant figure -shuffled in. George's face was green with fright. His knees rattled -together. He made, altogether, a ludicrous picture, and Mr. Trimmer -himself noted this with sinking heart. - -"Allow me," said Trimmer theatrically. "George, Lord Harrowby." - -George cleared his throat, but did not succeed in dislodging his heart, -which was there at the moment. - -"Fawncy seeing you after all these years," he mumbled weakly, to no one -in particular. - -"Speak up," said Spencer Meyrick sharply. - -"Who is it you're talking to?" - -"To him," explained George, nodding toward Lord Harrowby. "To my -brother Allan. Don't you know me, Allan? Don't you know--" - -He stopped. An expression of surprise and relief swept over his -worried face. He turned triumphantly to Trimmer. - -"I don't have to prove who I am to him," he announced. - -"Why don't you?" demanded Trimmer in alarm. - -"Because he can't, I fancy," put in Lord Harrowby. - -"No," said George slowly, "because I never saw him before in all my -life." - -"Ah--you admit it," cried Allan Harrowby with relief. - -"Of course I do," replied George. "I never saw you before in my life." - -"And you've never been at Rakedale Hall, have you?" Lord Harrowby -demanded. - -"Here--wait a minute--" shouted Trimmer, in a panic. - -"Oh, yes--I've been at Rakedale Hall," said the claimant firmly. "I -spent my boyhood there. But you've never been there." - -"I--what--" - -"You've never been at Rakedale Hall. Why? Because you're not Allan -Harrowby! That's why." - -A deathly silence fell. Only a little traveling clock on the mantel -was articulate. - -"Absurd--ridiculous--" cried Lord Harrowby. - -"Talk about impostors," cried George, his spirit and his courage -sweeping back. "You're one yourself. I wish I'd got a good look at -you sooner, I'd have put a stop to all this. Allan Harrowby, eh? I -guess not. I guess I'd know my own brother if I saw him. I guess I -know the Harrowby features. I give you twenty-four hours to get out of -town--you blooming fraud." - -"The man's crazy," Allan Harrowby cried. "Raving mad. He's an -impostor--this is a trick of his--" He looked helplessly around the -circle. In every face he saw doubt, questioning. "Good -heavens--you're not going to listen to him? He's come here to prove -that he's George Harrowby. Why doesn't he do it?" - -"I'll do it," said George sweetly, "when I meet a real Harrowby. In -the meantime, I give you twenty-four hours to get out of town. You'd -better go." - -Victorious, George turned toward the door. Trimmer, lost between -admiration and doubt, turned also. - -"Take my advice," George proclaimed. "Make him prove who he is. -That's the important point now. What does it matter to you who I am? -Nothing. But it matters a lot about him. Make him prove that he's -Allan Harrowby." - -And, with the imperious manner that he should have adopted on entering -the room, George Harrowby left it. Mr. Trimmer, eclipsed for once, -trotted at his side. - -"Say," cried Trimmer in the hall, "is that on the level? Isn't he -Allan Harrowby?" - -"I should say not," said George grandly. "Doesn't look anything like -Allan." - -Trimmer chortled in glee. - -"Great stuff," he cried. "I guess we tossed a bomb, eh? Now, we'll -run him out of town." - -"Oh, no," said George. "We've done our work here. Let's go over to -London now and see the pater." - -"That we will," cried Trimmer. "That we will. By gad, I'm proud of -you to-day, Lord Harrowby." - -Inside Allan Harrowby's suite three pairs of questioning eyes were -turned on that harassed nobleman. He fidgeted in his chair. - -"I say," he pleaded. "It's all his bluff, you know." - -"Maybe," said old Spencer Meyrick, rising. "But Harrowby--or whatever -your name is--there's altogether too much three-ring circus about this -wedding to suit me. My patience is exhausted, sir--clean exhausted. -Things look queer to me--have right along. I'm more than inclined to -believe what that fellow said." - -"But my dear sir--that chap is a rank impostor. There wasn't a word of -truth in what he said. Cynthia--you understand--" - -"Why, yes--I suppose so," the girl replied. "You are Allan Harrowby, -aren't you?" - -"My dear girl--of course I am." - -"Nevertheless," said Spencer Meyrick with decision, "I'm going to call -the wedding off again. Some of your actions haven't made much of a hit -with me. I'm going to call it off until you come to me and prove that -you're Allan Harrowby--a lord in good and regular standing, with all -dues paid." - -"But--confound it, sir--a gentleman's word--" - -"Mr. Meyrick," put in Minot, "may I be allowed to say that I consider -your action hasty--" - -"And may I be allowed to ask what affair this is of yours?" demanded -Mr. Meyrick hotly. - -"Father!" cried Miss Meyrick. "Please do not be harsh with Mr. Minot. -His heart is absolutely set on my marriage with Lord Harrowby. -Naturally he feels very badly over all this." - -Minot winced. - -"Come, Cynthia," said Meyrick, moving toward the door. "I've had -enough of this play-acting. Remember, sir--the wedding is -off--absolutely off--until you are able to establish your identity -beyond question." - -And he and his daughter went out. Minot sat for a long time staring at -Lord Harrowby. Finally he spoke. - -"Say, Harrowby," he inquired, "who the devil are you?" - -His lordship sadly shook his head. - -"You, too, Brutus," he sighed. "Haven't I one friend left? I'm Allan -Harrowby. Ask Jephson. If I weren't, that policy that's causing you -so much trouble wouldn't be worth the paper it's written on." - -"That's right, too. Well, admitting you're Harrowby, how are you going -to prove it?" - -"I've an idea," Harrowby replied. - -"Everything comes to him who waits. What is it?" - -"A very good friend of mine--an old Oxford friend--is attached to our -embassy at Washington. He was planning to come down for the wedding. -I'll telegraph him to board the next train." - -"Good boy," said Minot. "That's a regular idea. Better send the wire -at once." - -Harrowby promised, and they parted. In the lobby below Mr. Minot met -Jack Paddock. Paddock looked drawn and worried. - -"Working up my stuff for the dinner the little Lismore lady is giving -to the bridal party to-morrow night," he confided. "Say, it's no cinch -to do two of them. Can't you suggest a topic that's liable to come up." - -"Yes," replied Minot. "I can suggest one. Fake noblemen." And he -related to Mr. Paddock the astounding events of the morning. - -That Sunday that had begun so startlingly progressed as a Sunday -should, in peace. Early in the afternoon Harrowby hunted Minot up and -announced that his friend would arrive Monday noon, and that the -Meyricks had agreed to take no definite step pending his arrival. - -Shortly after six o'clock a delayed telegram was delivered to Mr. -Minot. It was from Mr. Thacker, and it read: - - -"Have located the owner of the yacht _Lileth_ its real name the _Lady -Evelyn_ stolen from owner in North River he is on his way south will -look you up on arrival." - - -Minot whistled. Here was a new twist for the drama to take. - -At about the same time that Minot received his message, a similar slip -of yellow paper was put into the hands of Lord Harrowby. Three times -he read it, his eyes staring, his cheeks flushed. - -Then he fled to his rooms. The elevator was not quick enough; he sped -up the stairs. Once in his suite he dragged out the nearest -traveling-bag and began to pack like a mad man. - -Mr. Minot was finishing a leisurely and lonely dinner about an hour -later when Jack Paddock ran up to his table. Mr. Paddock's usual calm -was sadly ruffled. - -"Dick," he cried, "here's news for you. I met Lord Harrowby sliding -out a side door with a suit-case just now." - -Minot leaped to his feet. - -"What does that mean?" he wondered aloud. - -"Mean?" answered Mr. Paddock. "It means just one thing. Old George -had the right dope. Harrowby is a fake. He's making his get-away." - -Minot threw down his napkin. - -"Oh, he is, is he?" he cried. "Well, I guess not. Come on, Jack." - -"What are you going to do?" - -"I'm going down to the station and stop him. He's caused me too much -trouble to let him slide out like this. A fake, eh? Well, I'll have -him behind the bars to-night." - -A negro cab driver was, by superhuman efforts, roused to hasty action. -He rattled the two young men wildly down the silent street to the -railway station. They dashed into the drab little waiting room just as -a voice called: - -"Train for the north! Jacksonville! Savannah! Washington! New York!" - -"There he is!" Paddock cried, and pointed to the lean figure of Lord -Harrowby slipping out the door nearest the train-shed. - -Paddock and Minot ran across the waiting room and out into the open. -In the distance they saw Harrowby passing through the gate and on to -the tracks. They ran up just in time to have the gate banged shut in -their faces. - -"Here," cried Minot. "I've got to get in there. Let me through!" - -"Where's your ticket?" demanded the great stone face on guard. - -"I haven't got one, but--" - -"Too late anyhow," said the face. "The train's started." - -Through the wooden pickets Minot saw the long yellow string of coaches -slipping by. He turned to Paddock. - -"Oh, very well," he cried, exulting. "Let him go. Come on!" - -He dashed back to the carriage that had brought them from the hotel, -the driver of which sat in a stupor trying to regain his wits and -nonchalance. - -"What now?" Paddock wanted to know. - -"Get in!" commanded Minot. He pushed his friend on to the musty seat, -and followed. - -"To the De la Pax," he cried, "as fast as you can go." - -"But what the devil's the need of hurrying now?" demanded Paddock. - -"All the need in the world," replied Minot joyously. "I'm going to -have a talk with Cynthia Meyrick. A little talk--alone." - -"Ah," said Mr. Paddock softly, "love's young dream." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE SHORTEST WAY HOME - -The moon was shining in that city of the picturesque past. Its light -fell silvery on the narrow streets, the old adobe houses, the listless -palms. In every shadow seemed to lurk the memory of a love long -dead--a love of the old passionate Spanish days. A soft breeze came -whispering from the very sea Ponce de Leon had sailed. It was as if at -a signal--a bugle-call, a rose thrown from a window, the boom of a -cannon at the water's edge--the forgotten past of hot hearts, of arms -equally ready for cutlass or slender waist, could live again. - -And Minot was as one who had heard such a signal. He loved. The -obstacle that had confronted him, wrung his heart, left him helpless, -was swept away. He was like a man who, released from prison, sees the -sky, the green trees, the hills again. He loved! The moon was shining! - -He stood amid the colorful blooms of the hotel courtyard and looked up -at her window, with its white curtain waving gently in the breeze. He -called, softly. And then he saw her face, peering out as some senorita -of the old days from her lattice-- - -"I've news--very important news," he said. "May I see you a moment?" - -Far better this than the telephone or the bellboy. Far more in keeping -with the magic of the night. - -She came, dressed in the white that set off so well her hair of -gleaming copper. Minot met her on the veranda. She smiled into his -eyes inquiringly. - -"Do you mind--a little walk?" he asked. - -"Where to?" - -"Say to the fort--the longest way." - -She glanced back toward the hotel. - -"I'm not sure that I ought--" - -"But that will only make it the more exciting. Please. And I've -news--real news." - -She nodded her head, and they crossed the courtyard to the avenue. -From this bright thoroughfare they turned in a moment into a dark and -unkempt street. - -"See," said Minot suddenly, "the old Spanish churchyard. They built -cities around churches in the old days. The world do move. It's -railroad stations now." - -They stood peering through the gloom at a small chapel dim amid the -trees, and aged stones leaning tipsily among the weeds. - -"At the altar of that chapel," Minot said, "a priest fell--shot in the -back by an Indian's arrow. Sounds unreal, doesn't it? And when you -think that under these musty stones lies the dust of folks who walked -this very ground, and loved, and hated, like you and--" - -"Yes--but isn't it all rather gloomy?" Cynthia Meyrick shuddered. - -They went on, to pass shortly through the crumbling remains of the city -gates. There at the water's edge the great gray fort loomed in the -moonlight like a historical novelist's dream. Its huge iron-bound -doors were locked for the night; its custodian home in the bosom of his -family. Only its lower ramparts were left for the feet of romantic -youth to tread. - -Along these ramparts, close to the shimmering sea, Miss Meyrick and -Minot walked. Truth to tell, it was not so very difficult to keep -one's footing--but once the girl was forced to hold out an appealing -hand. - -"French heels are treacherous," she explained. - -Minot took her hand, and for the first time knew the thrill that, -encountered often on the printed page, he had mentally classed as -"rubbish!" Wisely she interrupted it: - -"You said you had news?" - -He had, but it was not so easy to impart as he had expected. - -"Tell me," he said, "if it should turn out that what poor old George -said this morning was a fact--that Allan Harrowby was an -impostor--would you feel so very badly?" - -She withdrew her hand. - -"You have no right to ask that," she replied. - -"Forgive me. Indeed I haven't. But I was moved to ask it for the -reason that--what George said was evidently true. Allan Harrowby left -suddenly for the north an hour ago." - -The girl stood still, looking with wide eyes out over the sea. - -"Left--for the north," she repeated. There was a long silence. At -length she turned to Minot, a queer light in her eyes. "Of course, -you'll go after him and bring him back?" she asked. - -"No." Minot bowed his head. "I know I must have looked rather silly -of late. But if you think I did the things I've done because I chose -to--you're wrong. If you think I did them because I didn't love -you--you're wrong, too. Oh, I--" - -"Mr. Minot!" - -"I can't help it. I know it's indecently soon--I've got to tell you -just the same. There's been so much in the way--I'm wild to say it -now. I love you." - -The water breaking on the ancient stones below seemed to be repeating -"Sh--sh," but Minot paid no heed to the warning. - -"I've cared for you," he went on, "ever since that morning on the train -when we raced the razor-backs--ever since that wonderful ride over a -God-forsaken road that looked like Heaven to me. And every time since -that I've seen you I've known that I'd come to care more--" - -The girl stood and stared thoughtfully out at the soft blue sea. Minot -moved closer, over those perilous slippery rocks. - -"I know it's an old story to you," he went on, "and that I'd be a fool -to hope that I could possibly be anything but just another man who -adores you. But--because I love you so much--" - -She turned and looked at him. - -"And in spite of all this," she said slowly, "from the first you have -done everything in your power to prevent the breaking off of my -engagement to Harrowby." - -"Yes, but--" - -"Weren't you overly chivalrous to a rival? Wouldn't what--what you are -saying be more convincing if you had remained neutral?" - -"I know. I can't explain it to you now. It's all over, anyway. It -was horrible while it lasted--but it's over now. I'm never going to -work again for your marriage to anybody--except one man. The man who -is standing before you--who loves you--loves you--" - -He stopped, for the girl was smiling. And it was not the sort of smile -that his words were entitled to. - -"I'm sorry, really," she said. "But I can't help it. All I can see -now is your triumphant entrance last night--your masterly exposure of -that silly necklace--your clever destruction of every obstacle in order -that Harrowby and I might be married on Tuesday. In the light of all -that has happened--how can you expect to appear other than--" - -"Foolish? You're right. And you couldn't possibly care--just a -little--" - -He stopped, embarrassed. Poorly chosen words, those last. He saw the -light of recollection in her eye. - -"I should say," he went on hastily, "isn't there just a faint gleam of -hope--for me--" - -"If we were back on the train," she said, "and all that followed could -be different--and Harrowby had never been--I might--" - -"You might--yes?" - -"I might not say what I'm going to say now. Which is--hadn't we better -return to the hotel?" - -"I'm sorry," remarked Minot. "Sorry I had the bad taste to say what I -have at this time--but if you knew and could understand--which you -can't of course-- Yes, let's go back to the hotel--the shortest way." - -He turned, and looked toward the towers of the De la Pax rising to meet -the sky--seemingly a million miles away. So Peary might have gazed to -the north, setting out for the Pole. - -They went back along the ramparts, over the dry moat, through the -crumbling gates. Conversation languished. Then the ancient graveyard, -ghastly in the gloom. After that the long lighted street of humble -shops. And the shortest way home seemed a million times longer than -the longest way there. - -"Considering what you have told me of--Harrowby," she said, "I shall be -leaving for the north soon. Will you look me up in New York?" - -"Thank you," Minot said. "It will be a very great privilege." - -Cynthia Meyrick entered the elevator, and out of sight in that gilded -cage she smiled a twisted little smile. - -Mr. Minot beheld Mr. Trimmer and his "proposition" basking in the -lime-light of the De la Pax, and feeling in no mood to listen to the -publicity man's triumphant cackle, he hurried to the veranda. There he -found a bell-boy calling his name. - -"Gen'lemun to see you," the boy explained. He led the way back into -the lobby and up to a tall athletic-looking man with a ruddy, frank, -attractive face. - -The stranger held out his hand. - -"Mr. Minot, of Lloyds?" he asked. "How do you do, sir? I'm very glad -to know you. Promised Thacker I'd look you up at once. Let's adjourn -to the grill-room." - -Minot followed in the wake of the tall breezy one. Already he liked -the man immensely. - -"Well," said the stranger, over a table in the grill, "what'll you -have? Waiter? Perhaps you heard I was coming. I happen to be the -owner of the yacht in the harbor, which somebody has rechristened the -_Lileth_." - -"Yes--I thought so," Minot replied. "I'm mighty glad you've come. A -Mr. Martin Wall is posing as the owner just at present." - -"So I learned from Thacker. Nervy lad, this Wall. I live in Chicago -myself--left my boat--_Lady Evelyn_, I called her--in the North River -for the winter in charge of a caretaker. This Wall, it seems, needed a -boat for a month and took a fancy to mine. And since my caretaker was -evidently a crook, it was a simple matter to rent it. Never would have -found it out except for you people. Too busy. Really ought not to -have taken this trip--business needs me every minute--but I've got sort -of a hankering to meet Mr. Martin Wall." - -"Shall we go out to the boat right away?" - -"No need of that. We'll run out in the morning with the proper -authorities." The stranger leaned across the table, and something in -his blue eyes startled Minot. "In the meantime," he said, "I happen to -be interested in another matter. What's all this talk about George -Harrowby coming back to life?" - -"Well, there's a chap here," Minot explained, "who claims to be the -elder brother of Allan Harrowby. His cause is in the hands of an -advertising expert named Trimmer." - -"Yes. I saw a story in a Washington paper." - -"This morning George Harrowby, so-called, confronted Allan Harrowby and -denounced Allan himself as a fraud." - -The man from Chicago threw back his head, and a roar of unexpected -laughter smote on Minot's hearing. - -"Good joke," said the stranger. - -"No joke at all. George was right--at least, so it seems. Allan -Harrowby cleared out this evening." - -"Yes. So I was told by the clerk in there. Do you happen to -know--er--Allan?" - -"Yes. Very well indeed." - -"But you don't know the reason he left?" - -"Why," answered Minot, "I suppose because George Harrowby gave him -twenty-four hours to get out of town." - -Again the Chicago man laughed. - -"That can't have been the reason," he said. "I happen to know." - -"Just how," inquired Minot, "do you happen to know?" - -Leaning far back in his chair, the westerner smiled at Minot with a -broad engaging smile. - -"I fancy I neglected to introduce myself," he said. "I make -automobiles in Chicago--and my name's George Harrowby." - -"You--you--" Minot's head went round dizzily. "Oh, no," he said -firmly. "I don't believe it." - -The other's smile grew even broader. - -"Don't blame you a bit, my boy," he said. "Must have been a bit of a -mix-up down here. Then, too, I don't look like an Englishman. Don't -want to. I'm an American now, and I like it." - -"You mean you're the real Lord Harrowby?" - -"That's what I mean--take it slowly, Mr. Minot. I'm George, and if -Allan ever gets his eyes on me, I won't have to prove who I am. He'll -know, the kid will. But by the way--what I want now is to meet this -chap who claims to be me--also his friend, Mr. Trimmer." - -"Of course you do. I saw them out in the lobby a minute ago." Minot -rose. "I'll bring them in. But--but--" - -"What is it?" - -"Oh, never mind. I believe you." - -Trimmer and his proposition still adorned the lobby, puffed with pride -and pompousness. Briefly Minot explained that a gentleman in the -grill-room desired to be introduced, and graciously the two followed -after. The Chicago George Harrowby rose as he saw the group approach -his table. Suddenly behind him Minot heard a voice: - -"My God!" And the limp Englishman of the sandwich boards made a long -lean streak toward the door. Minot leaped after him, and dragged him -back. - -"Here, Trimmer," he said, "your proposition has chilblains." - -"What's the trouble?" Mr. Trimmer glared about him. - -"Allow me," said Minot. "Sir--our leading vaudeville actor and his -manager. Gentlemen--Mr. George Harrowby, of Chicago!" - -"Sit down, boys," said Mr. Harrowby genially. He indicated a chair to -Mr. Trimmer, but that gentleman stood, his eyes frozen to the face of -his proposition. The Chicago man turned to that same proposition. -"Brace up, Jenkins," he said. "Nobody will hurt you." - -But Jenkins could not brace. He allowed Minot to deposit his limp body -in a chair. - -"I thought you was dead, sir," he mumbled. - -"A common mistake," smiled George Harrowby. "My family has thought the -same, and I've been too busy making automobiles to tell them -differently. Mr. Trimmer, will you have a--what's the matter, man?" - -For Mr. Trimmer was standing, purple, over his proposition. - -"I want to get this straight," he said with assumed calm. "See here, -you cringing cur--what does this mean?" - -"I thought he was dead," murmured poor Jenkins in terror. - -"You'll think the same about yourself in a minute--and you'll be -_right_," Trimmer predicted. - -"Come, come," said George Harrowby pacifically. "Sit down, Mr. -Trimmer. Sit down and have a drink. Do you mean to say you didn't -know Jenkins here was faking?" - -"Of course I didn't," said Trimmer. He sat down on the extreme edge of -a chair, as one who proposed to rise soon. "All this has got me going. -I never went round in royal circles before, and I'm dizzy. I suppose -you're the real Lord Harrowby?" - -"To be quite correct, I am. Don't you believe it?" - -"I can believe anything--when I look at him," said Trimmer, indicating -the pitiable ex-claimant to the title. "Say, who is this Jenkins we -hear so much about?" - -"Jenkins was the son of my father's valet," George Harrowby explained. -"He came to America with me. We parted suddenly on a ranch in southern -Arizona." - -"Everybody said you was dead," persisted Jenkins, as one who could not -lose sight of that fact. - -"Yes? And they gave you my letters and belongings, eh? So you thought -you'd pose as me?" - -"Yes, sir," confessed Jenkins humbly. - -Mr. Trimmer slid farther back into his chair. - -"Well," he said, "it's unbelievable, but Henry Trimmer has been -buncoed. I met this able liar in a boarding-house in New York, and he -convinced me he was Lord Harrowby. It was between jobs for me, and I -had a bright idea. If I brought this guy down to the wedding, -established him as the real lord, and raised Cain generally, I figured -my stock as a publicity man would rise a hundred per cent. I'd be -turning down fifty-thousand-dollar jobs right and left. I suppose I -was easy, but I'd never mixed up with such things before, and all the -dope he had impressed me--the family coat of arms, and the motto--" - -The Chicago man laughed softly. - -"_Credo Harrowby_," he said. - -"That was it--trust Harrowby," said Trimmer bitterly. "Lord, what a -fool I've been. And it's ruined my career. I'll be the -laughing-stock--" - -"Oh, cheer up, Mr. Trimmer," smiled George Harrowby. "I'm sure you're -unduly pessimistic about your career. I'll have something to say to -you on that score later. For the present--" - -"For the present," broke in Trimmer with fervor, "iron bars for Jenkins -here. I'll swear out the warrant myself--" - -"Nonsense," said Harrowby, "Jenkins is the most harmless creature in -the world. Led astray by ambition, that's all. With any one but Allan -his claims wouldn't have lasted five minutes. Poor Allan always was a -helpless youngster." - -"Oh--Jenkins," broke in Minot suddenly. "What was the idea this -morning? I mean your calling Allan Harrowby an impostor?" - -Jenkins hung his head. - -"I was rattled," he admitted. "I couldn't keep it up before all those -people. So it came to me in a flash--if I said Allan was a fraud maybe -I wouldn't have to be cross-examined myself." - -"And that was really Allan Harrowby?" - -"Yes--that was Allan, right enough." - -Mr. Minot sat studying the wall in front of him. He was recalling a -walk through the moonlight to the fort. Jephson and Thacker pointed -accusing fingers at him over the oceans and lands between. - -"I say--let Jenkins go," continued the genial western Harrowby, -"provided he returns my property and clears out for good. After all, -his father was a faithful servant, if he is not." - -"But," objected Trimmer, "he's wasted my time. He's put a crimp in the -career of the best publicity man in America it'll take years to -straighten out--" - -"Not necessarily," said Harrowby. "I was coming to that. I've been -watching your work for the last week, and I like it. It's -alive--progressive. We're putting out a new car this spring--an -inexpensive little car bound to make a hit. I need a man like you to -convince the public--" - -Mr. Trimmer's eyes opened wide. They shone. He turned and regarded -the unhappy Jenkins. - -"Clear out," he commanded. "If I ever see you again I'll wring your -neck. Now, Mr. Harrowby, you were saying--" - -"Just a minute," said Harrowby. "This man has certain letters and -papers of mine--" - -"No, he hasn't," Trimmer replied. "I got 'em. Right here in my -pocket." He slid a packet of papers across the table. "They're yours. -Now, about--" - -Jenkins was slipping silently away. Like a frightened wraith he -flitted gratefully through the swinging doors. - -"A middle-class car," explained Harrowby, "and I want a live man to -boost it--" - -"Beg pardon," interrupted Minot, rising, "I'll say good night. We'll -get together about that other matter in the morning. By the way, Mr. -Harrowby, have you any idea what has become of Allan?" - -"No, I haven't. I sent him a telegram this afternoon saying that I was -on my way here. Must have run off on business. Of course, he'll be -back for his wedding." - -"Oh, yes--of course," Minot agreed sadly, "he'll be back for his -wedding. Good night, gentlemen." - -A few minutes later he stood at the window of 389, gazing out at the -narrow street, at the stately Manhattan Club, and the old Spanish -houses on either side. - -"And she refused me!" he muttered. "To think that should be the -biggest piece of luck that's come to me since I hit this accursed town!" - -He continued to gaze gloomily out. The--er--moon was still shining. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -"A ROTTEN BAD FIT" - -Minot rose early on Monday morning and went for a walk along the beach. -He had awakened to black despair, but the sun and the matutinal breeze -elevated his spirits considerably. Where was Allan Harrowby? Gone, -with his wedding little more than twenty-four hours away. If he should -not return--golden thought. By his own act he would forfeit his claim -on Jephson, and Minot would be free to-- - -To what? Before him in the morning glow the great gray fort rose to -crush his hopes. There on those slanting ramparts she had smiled at -his declaration. Smiled, and labeled him foolish. Well, foolish he -must have seemed. But there was still hope. If only Allan Harrowby -did not return. - -Mr. Trimmer, his head down, breathing hard, marched along the beach -like a man with a destination. Seeing Minot, he stopped suddenly. - -"Good morning," he said, holding out his hand, with a smile. "No -reason why we shouldn't be friends, eh? None whatever. You're out -early. So am I. Thinking up ideas for the automobile campaign." - -Minot laughed. - -"You leap from one proposition to another with wonderful aplomb," he -said. - -"The agile mountain goat hopping from peak to peak," Trimmer replied. -"That's me. Oh, I'm the goat all right. Sad old Jenkins put it all -over me, didn't he?" - -"I'm afraid he did. Where is he?" - -"Ask of the railway folder. He lit out in the night. Say--he did have -a convincing way with him--you know it." - -"He surely did." - -"Well, the best of us make mistakes," admitted Mr. Trimmer. "The -trouble with me is I'm too enthusiastic. Once I get an idea, I see -rosy for miles ahead. As I look back I realize that I actually helped -Jenkins prove to me that he was Lord Harrowby. I was so anxious for -him to do it--the chance seemed so gorgeous. And if I'd put it -over--but there. The automobile business looks mighty good to me now. -Watch the papers for details. And when you get back to Broadway, keep -a lookout for the hand of Trimmer writing in fire on the sky." - -"I will," promised Minot, laughing. He turned back to the hotel -shortly after. His meeting with Trimmer had cheered him mightily. -With a hopeful eye worthy of Trimmer himself, he looked toward the -future. Twenty-four hours would decide it. If only Allan failed to -return! - -The first man Minot saw when he entered the lobby of the De la Pax was -Allan Harrowby, his eyes tired with travel, handing over a suit-case to -an eager black boy. - -What was the use? Listlessly Minot relinquished his last hope. He -followed Harrowby, and touched his arm. - -"Good morning," he said drearily. "You gave us all quite a turn last -night. We thought you'd taken the advice you got in the morning, and -cleared out for good." - -"Well, hardly," Harrowby replied. "Come up to the room, old man. I'll -explain there." - -"Before we go up," replied Minot, "I want you to get Miss Meyrick on -the phone and tell her you've returned. Yes--right away. You -see--last night I rather misunderstood--I thought you weren't Allan -Harrowby after all--and I'm afraid I gave Miss Meyrick a wrong -impression." - -"By gad--I should have told her I was going," Harrowby replied. "But I -was so rattled, you know--" - -He went into a booth. His brief talk ended, he and Minot entered the -elevator. Once in his suite, Harrowby dropped wearily into a chair. - -"Confound your stupid trains. I've been traveling for ages. Now, -Minot, I'll tell you what carried me off. Yesterday afternoon I got a -message from my brother George saying he was on his way here." - -"Yes?" - -"Seems he's alive and in business in Chicago. The news excited me a -bit, old boy. I pictured George rushing in here, and the word -spreading that I was not to be the Earl of Raybrook, after all. I'm -frightfully fond of Miss Meyrick, and I want that wedding to take place -to-morrow. Then, too, there's Jephson. Understand me--Cynthia is not -marrying me for my title. I'd stake my life on that. But there's the -father and Aunt Mary--and considering the number of times the old -gentleman has forbidden the wedding already--" - -"You saw it was up to you, for once." - -"Exactly. So for my own sake--and Jephson's--I boarded a train for -Jacksonville with the idea of meeting George's train there and coming -on here with him. I was going to ask George not to make himself known -for a couple of days. Then I proposed to tell Cynthia, and Cynthia -only, of his existence. If she objected, all very well--but I'm sure -she wouldn't. And I'm sure, too, that George would have done what I -asked--he always was a bully chap. But--I missed him. These -confounded trains--always late. Except when you want them to be. I -dare say George is here by this time?" - -"He is," Minot replied. "Came a few hours after you left. And by the -way, I arranged a meeting for him with Trimmer and his proposition. -The proposition fled into the night. It seems he was the son of an old -servant of your father's--Jenkins by name." - -"Surely! Surely that was Jenkins! I thought I'd seen the chap -somewhere--couldn't quite recall-- Well, at any rate, he's out of the -way. Now the thing to do is to see good old George at once--" - -He went to the telephone, and got his brother's room. - -"George!" A surprising note of affection crept into his lordship's -voice. "George, old boy--this is Allan. I'm waiting for you in my -rooms." - -"Dear old chap," said his lordship, turning away from the telephone. -"Twenty-three years since he has seen one of his own flesh and blood! -Twenty-three years of wandering in this God-forsaken country--I beg -your pardon, Minot. I wonder what he'll say to me. I wonder what -George will say after all those years." - -Nervously Allan Harrowby walked the floor. In a moment the door -opened, and the tall, blond Chicago man stood in the doorway. His blue -eyes glowed. Without a word he came into the room, and gripped the -hand of his brother, then stood gazing as if he would never get enough. - -And then George Harrowby spoke. - -"Is that a ready-made suit you have on, Allan?" he asked huskily. - -"Why--why--yes, George." - -"I thought so. It's a rotten bad fit, Allan. A rotten bad fit." - -Thus did George Harrowby greet the first of his kin he had seen in a -quarter of a century. Thus did he give the lie to fiction, and to -Trimmer, writer of "fancy seeing you after all these years" speeches. - -He dropped his younger brother's hand and strode to the window. He -looked out. The courtyard of the De la Pax was strangely misty even in -the morning sunlight. Then he turned, smiling. - -"How's the old boy?" he asked. - -"He's well, George. Speaks of you--now and then. Think he'd like to -see you. Why not run over and look him up?" - -"I will." George Harrowby turned again to the window. "Ought to have -buried the hatchet long ago. Been so busy--but I'll change all that. -I'll run over and see him first chance I get--and I'll write to him -to-day." - -"Good. Great to see you again, George. Heard you'd shuffled off." - -"Not much. Alive and well in Chicago. Great to see you." - -"Suppose you know about the wedding?" - -"Yes. Fine girl, too. Had a waiter point her out to me at -breakfast--rather rude, but I was in a hurry to see her. Er--pretty -far gone and all that, Allan?" - -"Pretty far gone." - -"That's the eye. I was afraid it might be a financial proposition -until I saw the girl." - -Allan shifted nervously. - -"Ah--er--of course, you're Lord Harrowby," he said. - -George Harrowby threw back his head and laughed his hearty pleasant -laugh. - -"Sit down, kid," he said. And the scion of nobility, thus informally -addressed, sat. - -"I thought you'd come at me with the title," said George Harrowby, also -dropping into a chair. "Don't go, Mr. Minot--no secrets here. Allan, -you and your wife must come out and see us. Got a wife myself--fine -girl--she's from Marion, Indiana. And I've got two of the liveliest -little Americans you ever saw. Live in a little Chicago suburb--homey -house, shady street, neighbors all from down country way. Gibson's -drawings on the walls, George Ade's books on the tables, phonograph in -the corner with all of George M. Cohan's songs. Whole family wakes in -the morning ready for a McCutcheon cartoon. My boys talk about nothing -but Cubs and White Sox all summer. They're going to a western -university in a few years. We raised 'em on James Whitcomb Riley's -poems. Well, Allan----" - -"Well, George----" - -"Say, what do you imagine would happen if I went back to a home like -that with the news that I was Lord Harrowby, in line to become the Earl -of Raybrook. There'd be a riot. Wife would be startled out of her -wits. Children would hate me. Be an outcast in my own family. -Neighbors would turn up their noses when they went by our house. -Fellows at the club would guy me. Lord Harrowby, eh! Take off your -hats to his ludship, boys. Business would fall off." - -Smilingly George Harrowby took a cigar and lighted it. - -"No, Allan," he finished, "a lord wouldn't make a hell of a hit -anywhere in America, but in Chicago, in the automobile business--say, -I'd be as lonesome and deserted as the reading-room of an Elks' Club." - -"I don't quite understand----" Allan began. - -"No," said George, turning to meet Minot's smile, "but this gentleman -does. It all means, Allan, that there's nothing doing. You are Lord -Harrowby, the next Earl of Raybrook. Take the title, and God bless -you." - -"But, George," Allan objected, "legally you can't----" - -"Don't worry, Allan," said the man from Chicago, "there's nothing we -can't do in America, and do legally. How's this? I've always been -intending to take out naturalization papers. I'll do it the minute I -get back to Chicago--and then the title is yours. In the meantime, -when you introduce me to your friends here, we'll just pretend I've -taken them out already." - -Allan Harrowby got up and laid his hand affectionately on his brother's -shoulder. - -"You're a brick, old boy," he said. "You always were. I'm glad you're -to be here for the wedding. How did you happen to come?" - -"That's right--you don't know, do you? I came in response to a -telegram from Lloyds, of New York." - -"From--er--Lloyds?" asked Allan blankly. - -"Yes, Allan. That yacht you came down here on didn't belong to Martin -Wall. It belonged to me. He made away with it from North River -because he happened to need it. Wall's a crook, my boy." - -"The _Lileth_ your ship! My word!" - -"It is. I called it the _Lady Evelyn_, Allan. Lloyds found out that -it had been stolen and sent me a wire. So here I am." - -"Lloyds found out through me," Minot explained to the dazed Allan. - -"Oh--I'm beginning to see," said Allan slowly. "By the way, George, -we've another score to settle with Wall." - -He explained briefly how Wall had acquired Chain Lightning's Collar, -and returned a duplicate of paste in its place. The elder Harrowby -listened with serious face. - -"It's no doubt the Collar he was trailing you for, Allan," he said. -"And that's how he came to need the yacht. But when finally he got his -eager fingers on those diamonds, poor old Wall must have had the shock -of his life." - -"How's that?" - -"It wasn't Wall who had the duplicate made. It was--father--years ago, -when I was still at home. He wanted money to bet, as usual--had the -duplicate made--risked and lost." - -"But," Allan objected, "he gave it to me to give to Miss Meyrick. -Surely he wouldn't have done that----" - -"How old is he now? Eighty-two? Allan, the old boy must be a little -childish by now--he forgot. I'm sure he forgot. That's the only view -to take of it." - -A silence fell. In a moment the elder brother said: - -"Allan, I want you to assure me again that you're marrying because you -love the girl--and for no other reason." - -"Straight, George," Allan answered, and looked his brother in the eye. - -"Good kid. There's nothing in the other kind of marriage--all -unhappiness--all wrong. I was sure you must be on the level--but, you -see, after Mr. Thacker--the insurance chap in New York--knew who I was -and that I wouldn't take the title, he told me about that fool policy -you took out." - -"No? Did he?" - -"All about it. Sort of knocked me silly for a minute. But I -remembered the Harrowby gambling streak--and if you love the girl, and -really want to marry her, I can't see any harm in the idea. However, I -hope you lose out on the policy. Everything O.K. now? Nothing in the -way?" - -"Not a thing," Lord Harrowby replied. "Minot here has been a bully -help--worked like mad to put the wedding through. I owe everything to -him." - -"Insuring a woman's mind," reflected George Harrowby. "Not a bad idea, -Allan. Almost worthy of an American. Still--I could have insured you -myself after a fashion--promised you a good job as manager of our new -London branch in case the marriage fell through. However, your method -is more original." - -Allan Harrowby was slowly pacing the room. Suddenly he turned, and -despite the fact that all obstacles were removed, he seemed a very much -worried young man. - -"George--Mr. Minot," he began, "I've a confession to make. It's about -that policy." He stopped. "The old family trouble, George. We're -gamblers to the bone--all of us. Last Friday night--at the Manhattan -Club--I turned over that policy to Martin Wall to hold as security for -a five thousand dollar loan." - -"Why the devil did you do that?" Minot cried. - -"Well----" And Allan Harrowby was in his old state of helplessness -again. "I wanted to save the day. Gonzale was hounding us for -money--I thought I saw a chance to win----" - -"But Wall! Wall of all people!" - -"I know. I oughtn't to have done it. Knew Wall wasn't altogether -straight. But nobody else was about--I got excited--borrowed--lost the -whole of it, too. Wha--what are we going to do?" - -He looked appealingly at Minot. But for once it was not on Minot's -shoulders that the responsibility for action fell. George Harrowby -cheerfully took charge. - -"I was just on the point of going out to the yacht, with an officer," -he said. "Suppose we three run out alone and talk business with Martin -Wall." - -Fifteen minutes later the two Harrowbys and Minot boarded the yacht -which Martin Wall had christened the _Lileth_. George Harrowby looked -about him with interest. - -"He's taken very good care of it--I'll say that for him," he remarked. - -Martin Wall came suavely forward. - -"Mr. Wall," said Minot pleasantly, "allow me to present Mr. George -Harrowby, the owner of the boat on which we now stand." - -"I beg our pardon," said Wall, without the quiver of an eyelash. "So -careless of me. Don't stand, gentlemen. Have chairs--all of you." - -And he stared George Harrowby calmly in the eye. - -"You're flippant this morning," said the elder Harrowby. "We'll be -glad to sit, thank you. And may I repeat what Mr. Minot has told -you--I own this yacht." - -"Indeed?" Mr. Wall's face beamed. "You bought it from Wilson, I -presume." - -"Just who is Wilson?" - -"Why--he's the man I rented it from in New York." - -"So that's your tale, is it?" Allan Harrowby put in. - -"You wound me," protested Mr. Wall. "That is my tale, as you call it. -I rented this boat in New York from a man named Albert Wilson. I have -the lease to show you, also my receipt for one month's rent." - -"I'll bet you have," commented Minot. - -"Bet anything you like. You come from a betting institution, I -believe." - -"No, Mr. Wall, I did not buy the yacht from Wilson," said George -Harrowby. "I've owned it for several years." - -"How do I know that?" asked Martin Wall. - -"Glance over that," said the elder Harrowby, taking a paper from his -pocket. "A precaution you failed to take with Albert Wilson." - -"Dear, dear." Mr. Wall looked over the paper and handed it back. "Can -it be that Wilson was a fraud? I suggest the police, Mr. Harrowby. I -shall be very glad to testify." - -"I suggest the police, too," said Minot hotly, "for Mr. Martin Wall. -If you thought you had a right on this boat, Wall, why did you throw me -overboard into the North River when I mentioned the name of Lloyds?" - -Mr. Wall regarded him with pained surprise. - -"I threw you overboard because I didn't want you on my boat," he said. -"I thought you understood that fully." - -"Nonsense," Minot cried. "You stole this boat by bribing the -caretaker, and when I mentioned Lloyds, famous the world over as a -marine insurance firm, you thought I was after you, and threw me over -the rail. I see it all very clearly now." - -"You're a wise young man----" - -"Mr. Wall," George Harrowby broke in, "it may interest you to know that -we don't believe a word of the Wilson story. But it may also interest -you to know that I am willing to let the whole matter drop--on one -condition." - -"What's that?" - -"My brother Allan here borrowed five thousand dollars from you the -other night, and gave you as security a bit of paper quite worthless to -any one save himself. Accept my check for five thousand and hand him -back the paper." - -Mr. Wall smiled. He reached into his inner coat pocket. - -"With the greatest pleasure," he said. "Here is the--er--the -document." He laughed. Then, noting the check book on the elder -Harrowby's knee, he added: "There was a little matter of interest----" - -"Not at all!" George Harrowby looked up. "The interest is forfeited -to pay wear and tear on this yacht." - -For a moment Wall showed fight, but he did not much care for the light -he saw in the elder Harrowby's eyes. He recognized a vast difference -in brothers. - -"Oh--very well," he said. The check was written, and the exchange made. - -"Since you are convinced I am the owner of the yacht," said George -Harrowby, rising, "I take it you will leave it at once?" - -"As soon as I can remove my belongings," Wall said. "A most -unfortunate affair all round." - -"A fortunate one for you," commented Mr. Minot. - -Wall glared. - -"My boy," he said angrily, "did any one ever tell you you were a -bad-luck jinx?" - -"Never," smiled Minot. - -"You look like one to me," growled Martin Wall. - -George Harrowby arranged to keep the crew Wall had engaged, in order to -get the _Lady Evelyn_ back to New York. It was thought best for the -owner to stay aboard until Wall had gathered his property and departed, -so Allan Harrowby and Minot alone returned to San Marco. As they -crossed the plaza Allan said: - -"By gad--everything looks lovely now. Jenkins out of the way, good old -George side-stepping the title, the policy safe in my pocket. Not a -thing in the way!" - -"It's almost too good to be true," replied Minot, with a very mirthless -smile. - -"It must be a great relief to you, old boy. You have worked hard. -Must feel perfectly jolly over all this?" - -"Me?" said Minot. "Oh, I can hardly contain myself for joy. I feel -like twining orange blossoms in my hair----" - -He walked on, kicking the gravel savagely at each step. Not a thing in -the way now. Not a single, solitary, hopeful, little thing. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MR. MINOT GOES THROUGH FIRE - -The Duchess of Lismore elected to give her dinner and dance in Miss -Meyrick's honor as near to the bright Florida stars as she could. On -the top floor of the De la Pax was a private dining-room, only -partially enclosed, with a picturesque view of the palm-dotted -courtyard below. Adjacent to this was a sun-room with a removable -glass roof, and this the duchess had ordered transformed into a -ballroom. There in the open the newest society dances should rise to -offend the soft southern sky. - -Being a good general, the hostess was early on the scene, marshaling -her forces. TO her there came Cynthia Meyrick, radiant and lovely and -wide-eyed on the eve of her wedding. - -"How sweet you look, Cynthia," said the duchess graciously. "But then, -you long ago solved the problem of what becomes you." - -"I have to look as sweet as I can," replied the girl wearily. "All the -rest of my life I shall have to try and live up to the nobility." - -She sighed. - -"To think," remarked the duchess, busy over a great bowl of flowers, -"that to-morrow night this time little Cynthia will be Lady Harrowby. -I suppose you'll go to Rakedale Hall for part of the year at least?" - -"I suppose so." - -"I, too, have had my Rakedale Hall. Formal, Cynthia dear, formal. -Nothing but silly little hunts, silly little shoots--American men would -die there. As for American women--nothing ever happens--the hedges -bloom in neat little rows--the trees blossom--they're bare -again--Cynthia, sometimes I've been in a state where I'd give ten years -of my life just to hear the rattle of an elevated train!" - -She stood looking down at the girl, an all too evident pity in her eyes. - -"It isn't all it might be, I fancy--marrying into the peerage," Cynthia -said. - -"My dear," replied the duchess, "I've nearly died at times. I never -was exactly what you'd call a patriot, but--often I've waked in the -night and thought of Detroit. My little car rattling over the -cobblestones--a new gown tried on at Madame Harbier's--a matinée--and -chocolate afterward at that little place--you remember it. And our -house on Woodward Avenue--the good times there. On the veranda in the -evening, and Jack Little just back from college in the east running -across the lawns to see me----. What became of Jack, dear?" - -"He married Elise Perkins." - -"Ah--I know--and they live near our old house--have a box when the -opera comes--entertain the Yale glee club every Christmas--oh, Cynthia, -maybe it's crude, maybe it's middle-class in English eyes--but it's -home! When you introduced that brother of Lord Harrowby's this -afternoon--that big splendid chap who said America looked better than a -title to him--I could have thrown my arms about his neck and kissed -him!" She came closer to the girl, and stood looking down at her with -infinite tenderness in her washed-out eyes. "Wasn't there--any -American boy, my dear?" she asked. - -"I--I--hundreds of them," answered Cynthia Meyrick, trying to laugh. - -The duchess turned away. - -"It's wrong of me to discourage you like that," she said. "Marrying -into the peerage is something, after all. You must come home every -year--insist on it. Johnson--are these the best caviar bowls the hotel -can furnish?" - -And the Duchess of Lismore, late of Detroit, drifted off into a bitter -argument with the humble Johnson. - -Miss Meyrick strolled away, out upon a little balcony opening off the -dining-room. She stood gazing down at the waving fronds in the -courtyard six stories below. If only that fountain down there were -Ponce de Leon's! But it wasn't. To-morrow she must put youth behind. -She must go far from the country she loved--did she care enough for -that? Strangely enough, burning tears filled her eyes. Hot revolt -surged into her heart. She stood looking down---- - -Meanwhile the other members of the dinner-party were gathering with -tender solicitude about their hostess in the ballroom beyond. Dick -Minot, hopeless, glum, stalked moodily among them. Into the crowd -drifted Jack Paddock, his sprightly air noticeably lacking, his eyes -worried, dreadful. - -"For the love of heaven," Minot asked, as they stepped together into a -secluded corner, "what ails you?" - -"Be gentle with me, boy," said Paddock unhappily. "I'm in a horrible -mess. The graft, Dick--the good old graft. It's over and done with -now." - -"What do you mean?" - -"It happened last night after our wild chase of Harrowby--I was -fussed--excited---- I prepared two sets of repartee for my two -customers to use to-night----" - -"Yes?" - -"I always make carbon copies to refer to myself just before the stuff -is to be used. A few minutes ago I took out my copies. Dick! I sent -the same repartee to both of them!" - -"Good lord!" - -"Good lord is meek and futile. So is damn. Put on your little rubber -coat, my boy. I predict a hurricane." - -In spite of his own troubles, Minot laughed. - -"Mirth, eh?" said Paddock grimly. "I can't see it that way. I'll be -as popular as a Republican in Texas before this evening is over. Got a -couple of hasty rapid-fire resignations all ready. Thought at first I -wouldn't come--but that seemed cowardly. Anyway, this is my last -appearance on any stage as a librettist. Kindly omit flowers." - -And Mr. Paddock drifted gloomily away. - -While the servants were passing cocktails on gleaming trays, Minot -found the door to the balcony and stepped outside. A white wraith -flitted from the shadows to his side. - -"Mr. Minot," said a soft, scared little voice. - -"Ah--Miss Meyrick," he cried. - -Merciful fate this, that they met for the first time since that -incident on the ramparts in kindly darkness. - -"Miss Meyrick," began Minot hurriedly, "I'm very glad to have a moment -alone with you. I want to apologize--for last night--I was mad--I did -Harrowby a very palpable wrong. I'm very ashamed of myself as I look -back. Can I hope that you will--forget--all I said?" - -She did not reply, but stood looking down at the palms far below. - -"Can I hope that you will forget--and forgive?" - -She glanced up at him, and her eyes shone in the dusk. - -"I can forgive," she said softly. "But I can't forget. Mr.--Mr. -Minot----" - -"Yes?" - -"What--what--is--woman's greatest privilege?" - -Something in the tone of her voice sent a cold chill sweeping through -Minot's very soul. He clutched the rail for support. - -"If--if you'd answer," said the girl, "it would make it easier for----" - -Aunt Mary's generous form appeared in the doorway. - -"Oh, there you are, Cynthia! You are keeping the duchess' dinner -waiting." - -Cynthia Meyrick joined her aunt. Minot stayed behind a moment. Below -him Florida swam in the azure night. What had the girl been about to -say? - -Pulling himself together, he went inside and learned that he was to -take in to dinner a glorious blond bridesmaid. When they were seated, -he found that Miss Meyrick's face was hidden from him by a profusion of -Florida blossoms. He was glad of that. He wanted to think--think. - -A few others were thinking at that table, Mrs. Bruce and the duchess -among them. Mrs. Bruce was mentally rehearsing. The duchess glanced -at her. - -"The wittiest woman in San Marco," thought the hostess. "Bah!" - -Mr. Paddock, meanwhile, was toying unhappily with his food. He had -little to say. The attractive young lady he had taken in had already -classified him as a bore. Most unjust of the attractive young lady. - -"It's lamentable, really." Mrs. Bruce was speaking. "Even in our best -society conversation has given way to the turkey trot. Our wits are in -our feet. Where once people talked art, music, literature--now they -tango madly. It really seems--" - -"Everything you say is true," interrupted the duchess blandly. "I -sometimes think the race of the future will be--a trotting race." - -Mrs. Bruce started perceptibly. Her eyes lighted with fire. She had -been working up to this line herself, and the coincidence was passing -strange. She glared at the hostess. Mr. Paddock studied his plate -intently. - -"I for one," went on the Duchess of Lismore, "do not dance the tango or -the turkey trot. Nor am I willing to take the necessary steps to learn -them." - -A little ripple ran round the table--the ripple that up to now had been -the exclusive privilege of Mrs. Bruce. That lady paled visibly. She -realized that there was no coincidence here. - -"It seems too bad, too," she said, fixing the hostess firmly with an -angry eye. "Because women could have the world at their feet--if -they'd only keep their feet still long enough." - -It was the turn of the duchess to start, and start she did. As one who -could not believe her ears, she stared at Mrs. Bruce. The "wittiest -hostess in San Marco" was militantly under way. - -"Women are not what they used to be," she continued. "Either they are -mad about clothes, or they go to the other extreme and harbor strange -ideas about the vote, eugenics, what not. In fact, the sex reminds me -of the type of shop that abounds in a small town--its specialty is -drygoods and notions." - -The duchess pushed away a plate which had only that moment been set -before her. She regarded Mrs. Bruce with the eye of Mrs. Pankhurst -face to face with a prime minister. - -"We are hardly kind to our sex," she said, "but I must say I agree with -you. And the extravagance of women! Half the women of my acquaintance -wear gorgeous rings on their fingers--while their husbands wear blue -rings about their eyes." - -Mrs. Bruce's face was livid. - -"Madam!" she said through her teeth. - -"What is it?" asked the duchess sweetly. - -They sat glaring at each other. Then with one accord they turned--to -glare at Mr. Jack Paddock. - -Mr. Paddock, prince of assurance, was blushing furiously. He stood the -combined glare as long as he could--then he looked up into the night. - -"How--how close the stars seem," he murmured faintly. - -It was noted afterward that Mrs. Bruce maintained a vivid silence -during the remainder of that dinner. The duchess, on the contrary, -wrung from her purchased lines every possibility they held. - -And in that embattled setting Mr. Minot sat, deaf to the delicious lisp -of the debutante at his side. What was woman's greatest privilege? -Wasn't it---- - -His forehead grew damp. His knees trembled beneath the table. -"Jephson--Thacker, Jephson--Thacker," he said over and over to himself. - -After dinner, when the added guests invited by the duchess for the -dance crowded the ballroom, Minot encountered Jack Paddock. Mr. -Paddock was limp and pitiable. - -"Ever apologize to an angry woman?" he asked. "Ever try to expostulate -with a storm at sea? I've had it out with Mrs. Bruce--offered to do -anything to atone--she said the best thing I could do would be to -disappear from San Marco. She's right. I'm going. This is my exit -from the butterfly life. And I don't intend to say good-by to the -duchess, either." - -"I wish I could go with you," said Minot sadly. - -"Well--come along----" - -"No. I--I'll stick it out. See you later." - -Mr. Paddock slipped unostentatiously away in the direction of the -elevator. On a dais hidden by palms the orchestra began to play softly. - -"You haven't asked to see my card," said Cynthia Meyrick at Minot's -side. - -He smiled a wan smile, and wrote his name opposite number five. She -drifted away. The music became louder, rising to the bright stars -themselves. The dances that had furnished so much bitter conversation -at table began to break out. Minot hunted up the balcony and stood -gazing miserably down at fairy-land below. - -There Miss Meyrick found him when the fifth dance was imminent. - -"Is it customary for girls to pursue their partners?" she inquired. - -"I'm sorry," he said weakly. "Shall we go in?" - -"It's so--so glorious out here." - -He sighed--a sigh of resignation. He turned to her. - -"You asked me--what is woman's greatest privilege," he said. - -"Yes." - -"Is it--to change her mind?" - -She looked timidly into his eyes. - -"It--is," she whispered faintly. - -The most miserably happy man in history, he gasped. - -"Cynthia! It's too late--you're to be married to-morrow. Do you -mean--you'd call it all off now--at the last minute?" - -She nodded her head, her eyes on the ground. - -"My God!" he moaned, and turned away. - -"It would be all wrong--to marry Harrowby," she said faintly. "Because -I've come to--I--oh, Dick, can't you see?" - -"See! Of course I see!" He clenched his fists. "Cynthia, my -dearest----" - -Below him stretched six stories of open space. In his agony he thought -of leaping over the rail--of letting that be his answer. But no--it -would disarrange things so--it might even postpone the wedding! - -"Cynthia," he groaned, "you can't understand. It mustn't be--I've -given my word. I can't explain. I can never explain. -But--Cynthia--Cynthia----" - -Back in the shadow the girl pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. - -"A strange love--yours," she said. "A love that blows hot and cold." - -"Cynthia--that isn't true--I do love you----" - -"Please! Please let us--forget." She stepped into the moonlight, -fine, brave, smiling. "Do we--dance?" - -"Cynthia!" he cried unhappily. "If you only understood----" - -"I think I do. The music has stopped. Harrowby has the next -dance--he'd hardly think of looking for me here." - -She was gone! Minot stood alone on the balcony. He was dazed, blind, -trembling. He had refused the girl without whom life could never be -worth while! Refused her, to keep the faith! - -He entered upon the bright scene inside, slipped unnoticed to the -elevator and, still dazed, descended to the lobby. He would walk in -the moonlight until his senses were regained. Near the main door of -the De la Pax he ran into Henry Trimmer. Mr. Trimmer had a newspaper -in his hand. - -"What's the matter with the women nowadays?" he demanded indignantly. -Minot tried in vain to push by him. "Seen what those London -suffragettes have done now?" And Trimmer pointed to a head-line. - -"What have they done?" asked Minot. - -"Done? They put dynamite under the statue of Lord Nelson in Trafalgar -Square and blew it sky-high. It fell over into the Strand----" - -"Good!" cried Minot wildly. "Good! I hope to hell it smashed the -whole of London!" And, brushing aside the startled Trimmer, he went -out into the night. - -It was nearly twelve o'clock when Mr. Minot, somewhat calmer of mind, -returned to the De la Pax. As he stepped into the courtyard he was -surprised to see a crowd gathered before the hotel. Then he noticed -that from a second-floor window poured smoke and flame, and that the -town fire department was wildly getting into action. - -He stopped--his heart almost ceased beating. That was her window! The -window to which he had called her on that night that seemed so far -away--last night! Breathlessly he ran forward. - -And he ran straight into a group just descended from the ballroom. Of -that group Cynthia Meyrick was a member. For a moment they stood -gazing at each other. Then the girl turned to her aunt. - -"My wedding dress!" she cried. "I left it lying on my bed. Oh, I -can't possibly be married to-morrow if that is burned!" - -There was a challenge in that last sentence, and the young man for whom -it was intended did not miss it. Mad with the injustice of life, he -swooped down on a fireman struggling with a wabbly ladder. Snatching -away the ladder, he placed it against the window from which the smoke -and flame poured. He ran up it. - -"Here!" shouted the chief of the fire department, laying angry hands on -the ladder's base. "Wot you doing? You can't go in there." - -"Why the devil can't I?" bellowed Minot. "Let go of that ladder!" - -He plunged into the room. The smoke filled his nostrils and choked -him. His eyes burned. He staggered through the smoky dusk into -another room. His hands met the brass bars of a bed--then closed over -something soft and filmy that lay upon it. He seized the something -close, and hurried back into the other room. - -A fireman at another window sought to turn a stream of water on him. -Water--on that gown! - -"Cut that out, you fool!" Minot shouted. The fireman, who had -suspected himself of saving a human life, looked hurt. Minot regained -his window. Disheveled, smoky, but victorious, he half fell, half -climbed, to the ground. The fire chief faced him. - -"Who was you trying to rescue?" the chief demanded. His eyes grew -wide. "You idiot," he roared, "they ain't nobody in that dress." - -"Damn it, I know that," Minot cried. - -He ran across the lawn and stood, a panting, limp, battered, ludicrous -figure before Cynthia Meyrick. - -"I--I hope it's the right one," he said, and held out the gown. - -She took his offering, and came very close to him. - -"I hate you!" she said in a low tone. "I hate you!" - -"I--I was afraid you would," he muttered. - -A shout from the firemen announced that the blaze was under control. -To his dismay, Minot saw that an admiring crowd was surrounding him. -He broke away and hurried to his room. - -Cynthia Meyrick's final words to him rang in his ears. Savagely he -tore at his ruined collar. - -Was this ridiculous farce never to end? - -As if in answer, a distant clock struck twelve. He shuddered. - -To-morrow, at high noon! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -"PLEASE KILL" - -Early Tuesday morning, while Mr. Minot still slept and mercifully -forgot, two very wide awake gentlemen sat alone together in the office -of the _San Marco Mail_. One was Manuel Gonzale, proprietor of that -paper, as immaculate as the morn; the other was that broad and breezy -gentleman known in his present incarnation as Mr. Martin Wall. - -"Very neat. Very neat indeed," said Mr. Wall, gazing with evident -approval at an inky smelling sheet that lay before him. "It ought to -do the work. If it does, it will be the first stroke of luck I've had -in San Marco." - -Gonzale smiled, revealing two even rows of very white teeth. - -"You do not like San Marco?" he ventured. - -Mr. Wall snorted angrily. - -"Like it? Does a beheaded man like the ax? In a long and golden -professional career, I've never struck anything like this town before -for hard luck. I'm not in it twenty-four hours when I'm left alone, my -hands tied, with stuff enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. -That's pleasant! Then, after spending two months and a lot of money -trailing Lord Harrowby for the family jools, I finally cop them. I -give the crew of my borrowed boat orders to steam far, far away, and -run to my cabin to gloat. Do I gloat? Ask me. I do not gloat. I -find the famous Chain Lightning's Collar is a very superior collection -of glass, worth about twenty-three cents. I send back the glass, and -stick around, hoping for better days. And the best I get is a call -from the owner of my yacht, with orders to vacate at once. When I -first came here I swore I'd visit that jewelry store again--alone. -But--there's a jinx after me in this town. What's the use? I'm going -to get out." - -"But before you go," smiled Manuel, "one stroke of luck you shall have." - -"Maybe. I leave that to you. This kind of thing"--he motioned toward -the damp paper--"is not in my line." He bent over a picture on the -front page. "That cut came out pretty well, didn't it? Lucky we got -the photograph before big brother George arrived." - -"I have always found San Marco lucky," replied Gonzale. "Always--with -one trifling exception." He drummed reminiscently on his desk. - -"I say--who's this?" Mr. Wall pointed to a line just beneath the name -of the paper. "Robert O'Neill, Editor and Proprietor," he read. - -Manuel Gonzale gurgled softly somewhere within, which was his cunning, -non-committal way of indicating mirth. - -"Ah--my very virtuous managing editor," he said. "One of those dogs -who dealt so vilely with me--I have told you of that. Manuel Gonzale -does not forget." He leaned closer. "This morning at two, after -O'Neill and Howe had sent to-day's paper to press as usual, Luypas, my -circulation manager, and I arrived. My virtuous editors had departed -to their rest. Luypas and I stopped the presses, we substituted a new -first-page form. O'Neill and Howe--they will not know. Always they -sleep until noon. In this balmy climate, it is easy to lie abed." - -Again Manuel Gonzale gurgled. - -"May their sleep be dreamless," he said. "And should our work of the -morning fail, may the name of O'Neill be the first to concern the -police." - -Wall laughed. - -"A good idea," he remarked. He looked at his watch. "Nine-fifteen. -The banks ought to be open now." - -Gonzale got to his feet. Carefully he folded the page that had been -lying on his desk. - -"The moment for action has come," he said. "Shall we go down to the -street?" - -"I'm in strange waters," responded Martin Wall uneasily. "The first -dip I've ever taken out of my line. Don't believe in it either--a man -should have his specialty and stick to it. However, I need the money. -Am I letter perfect in my part, I wonder?" - -The door of the _Mail_ office opened, and a sly little Cuban with an -evil face stepped in. - -"Ah, Luypas," Gonzale said, "you are here at last? Do you understand? -Your boys they are to be in the next room--yes? You are to sit near -that telephone. At a word from my friend, Mr. Martin Wall, to-day's -edition of the _Mail_ is to flood the streets--the news-stands. -Instantly. Delay might be fatal. Is that clear?" - -"I know," said Luypas. - -"Very good," said Gonzale. He turned to Martin Wall. "Now is the -time," he added. - -The two descended to the street. Opposite the Hotel de la Pax they -parted. The sleek little Spaniard went on alone and mounted boldly -those pretentious steps. At the desk he informed the clerk on duty -that he must see Mr. Spencer Meyrick at once. - -"But Mr. Meyrick is very busy to-day," the clerk objected. - -"Say this is--life and death," replied Gonzale, and the clerk, wilting, -telephoned the millionaire's apartments. - -For nearly an hour Gonzale was kept waiting. Nervously he paced the -lobby, consuming one cigarette after another, glancing often at his -watch. Finally Spencer Meyrick appeared, pompous, red-faced, a hard -man to handle, as he always had been. The Spaniard noted this, and his -slits of eyes grew even narrower. - -"Will you come with me?" he asked suavely. "It is most important." - -He led the way to a summer-house in a far forgotten corner of the hotel -grounds. Protesting, Spencer Meyrick followed. The two sat down. - -"I have something to show you," said Gonzale politely, and removed from -his pocket a copy of the _San Marco Mail_, still damp from the presses. - -Spencer Meyrick took the paper in his own large capable hands. He -glanced casually at the first page, and his face grew somewhat redder -than its wont. A huge head-line was responsible: - - - HARROWBY WASN'T TAKING ANY CHANCES. - - -Underneath, in slightly smaller type, Spencer Meyrick read: - - - Remarkable Foresight of English Fortune - Hunter Who Weds Miss Meyrick To-Day - Took Out a Policy For Seventy-Five - Thousand Pounds With Lloyds. - Same to be Payable in Case the - Beautiful Heiress Suffered a - Change of Heart - - -Prominent on the page was a large photograph, which purported to be "An -Exact Facsimile of the Policy." Mr. Meyrick examined it. He glanced -through the story, which happened to be commendably brief. He told -himself he must remain calm, avoid fireworks, think quickly. Laying -the paper on his knee, he turned to the little white-garbed man beside -him. - -"What trick is this?" he asked sharply. - -"It is no trick, sir," said Gonzale pleasantly. "It is the truth. -That is a photograph of the policy." - -Old Meyrick studied the cut again. - -"I'll be damned," he remarked. - -"I have no desire to annoy," Gonzale went on. "But--there are five -thousand copies of to-day's _Mail_ at the office ready to be -distributed at a signal from me. Think, sir! Newsboys on the street -with that story at the very moment when your daughter becomes Lady -Harrowby." - -"I see," said Meyrick slowly. "Blackmail." - -Manuel Gonzale shuddered in horror. - -"Oh, I beg of you," he protested. "That is hardly it. A business -proposition, I should call it. It happens that the men back of the -Star Publishing Company, which issues the _Mail_, have grown tired of -the newspaper game in San Marco. They are desirous of closing out the -plant at once--say this morning. It occurs to them that you might be -very glad to purchase the _Mail_--before the next edition goes on the -street." - -"You're a clever little dog," said Meyrick, through his teeth. - -"You are not exactly complimentary. However--let us say for the -argument--you buy the _Mail_ at once. I am, by the way, empowered to -make the sale. You take charge. You hurry to the office. You destroy -all copies of to-day's issue so far printed. You give orders to the -composing-room to kill this first-page story--good as it is. 'Please -kill,' you say. A term with newspaper men." - -"You call yourself a newspaper man?" - -"Why not? The story is killed. Another is put in its place--say, for -example, an elaborate account of your daughter's wedding. And in its -changed form the _Mail_--your newspaper--goes on the street." - -"Um--and your price?" - -"It is a valuable property." - -"Especially valuable this morning, I take it," sneered Meyrick. - -"Valuable at any time. Our presses cost a thousand. Our linotypes two -thousand. And there is that other thing--so hard to estimate -definitely--the wide appeal of our paper. The price--well--fifteen -thousand dollars. Extremely reasonable. And I will include--the good -will of the retiring management." - -"You contemptible little--" began Spencer Meyrick. - -"My dear sir--control yourself," pleaded Gonzale. "Or I may be unable -to include the good will I spoke of. Would you care to see that story -on the streets? You may at any moment. There is but one way out. Buy -the newspaper. Buy it now. Here is the plan--you go with me to your -bank. You procure fifteen thousand in cash. We go together to the -_Mail_ office. You pay me the money and I leave you in charge." - -Old Meyrick leaped to his feet. - -"Very good," he cried. "Come on." - -"One thing more," continued the crafty Gonzale. "It may pay you to -note--we are watched. Even now. All the way to the bank and thence to -the office of the _Mail_--we will be watched. Should any accident, now -unforeseen, happen to me, that issue of the _Mail_ will go on sale in -five minutes all over San Marco." - -Spencer Meyrick stood glaring down at the little man in white. His -enthusiasm of a moment ago for the journey vanished. However, the -head-lines of the _Mail_ were staring up at him from the bench. He -stooped, pocketed the paper, and growled: - -"I understand. Come on!" - -There must be some escape. The trap seemed absurdly simple. Across -the hotel lawn, down the hot avenue, in the less hot plaza, Meyrick -sought a way. A naturally impulsive man, he had difficulty restraining -himself. But he thought of his daughter, whose happiness was more than -money in his eyes. - -No way offered. At the counter of the tiny bank Meyrick stood writing -his check, Gonzale at his elbow. Suddenly behind them the screen door -slammed, and a wild-eyed man with flaming red hair rushed in. - -"What is it you want?" Gonzale screamed. - -"Out of my way, Don Quixote," cried the red-topped one. "I'm a -windmill and my arms breathe death. Are you Mr. Meyrick? Well, tear -up that check!" - -"Gladly," said Meyrick. "Only--" - -"Notice the catbirds down here?" went on the wild one. "Noisy little -beasts, aren't they? Well, after this take off your hat to 'em. A -catbird saved you a lot of money this morning." - -"I'm afraid I don't follow--" said the dazed Spencer Meyrick. - -"No? I'll explain. I have been working on this man's paper for the -last week. So has a very good friend of mine. We knew he was crooked, -but we needed the money and he promised us not to pull off any more -blackmail while we stayed. Last night, after we left the office, he -arranged this latest. Planned to incriminate me. You little devil--" - -Manuel, frightened, leaped away. - -"We usually sleep until noon," went on O'Neill. "He counted on that. -Enter the catbird. Sat on our window-sill at ten A.M. and screeched. -Woke us up. We felt uneasy. Went to the office, broke down a bolted -door, and found what was up." - -"Dog!" foamed Manuel. "Outcast of the gutter--" - -"Save your compliments! Mr. Meyrick, my partner is now at the _Mail_ -office destroying to-day's issue of the _Mail_. We've already ruined -the first-page form, the cut of the policy, and the negative. And -we're going north as fast as the Lord'll let us. You can do what you -please. Arrest our little lemon-tinted employer, if you want to." - -Spencer Meyrick stood, considering. - -"However--I've done you a favor." O'Neill went on. "You can do me -one. Let Manuel off--on one condition." - -"Name it." - -"That he hands me at once two hundred dollars--one hundred for myself, -the other for my partner. It's legitimate salary money due us--we need -it. A long walk to New York." - -"I myself--" began Meyrick. - -"Don't want your money," said O'Neill. "Want Gonzale's." - -"Gonzale's you shall have," agreed Meyrick. "You--pay him!" - -"Never!" cried the Spaniard. - -"Then it's the police--" hinted O'Neill. - -Gonzale took two yellow bills from a wallet He tossed them at O'Neill. - -"There, you cur--" - -"Careful," cried O'Neill. "Or I'll punch you yet--" - -He started forward, but Gonzale hastily withdrew. O'Neill and the -millionaire followed to the street. - -"Just as well," commented Meyrick. "I should not have cared to cause -his arrest--it would have meant country-wide publicity." He laid a -hand on the arm of the newspaper man. "I take it," he said, "that your -fortunes are not at the highest ebb. You have done me a very great -service. I propose to write two checks--one for you, one for your -partner--and you may name the amounts." - -But the red-haired one shook his head. - -"No," he replied. "Nix on the anticlimax to virtue on a rampage. We -can't be paid for it. It would sort of dim the glory. We've got the -railroad fare at last--and we're going away from here. Yes--away from -here. On the choo-choo--riding far--riding north." - -"Well, my boy," answered Spencer Meyrick, "if I can ever do anything -for you in New York, come and see me." - -"You may have to make good on that," laughed O'Neill, and they parted. - -O'Neill hastened to the _Mail_ office. He waved yellow bills before -the lanky Howe. - -"In the nick of time," he cried. "Me, the fair-haired hero. And -here's the fare, Harry--the good old railroad fare." - -"Heaven be praised," said Howe. "I've finished the job, Bob. Not a -trace of this morning's issue left. The fare! North in parlor cars! -My tobacco heart sings. Can't you hear the elevated--" - -"Music, Harry, music." - -"And the newsboys on Park Row--" - -"Caruso can't touch them. Where can we find a time-table, I wonder?" - -Meanwhile, in a corner of the plaza, Manuel Gonzale spoke sad words in -the ear of Martin Wall. - -"It's the jinx," moaned Wall with conviction. "The star player in -everything I do down here. I'm going to burn the sand hot-footing it -away. But whither, Manuel, whither?" - -"In Porto Rico," replied Gonzale, "I have not yet plied my trade. I go -there." - -"Palm Beach," sighed Wall, "has diamonds that can be observed to -sparkle as far away as the New York society columns. But alas, I lack -the wherewithal to support me in the style to which my victims are -accustomed." - -"Try Porto Rico," suggested Gonzale. "The air is mild--so are the -police. I will stake you." - -"Thanks. Porto Rico it is. How the devil do we get there?" - -Up the main avenue of San Marco Spencer Meyrick walked as a man going -to avenge. With every determined step his face grew redder, his eye -more dangerous. He looked at his watch. Eleven. - -The eleventh hour! But much might happen between the eleventh hour and -high noon! - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -HIGH WORDS AT HIGH NOON - -In the Harrowby suite the holder of the title, a handsome and -distinguished figure, adorned for his wedding, walked nervously the -rather worn carpet. His brother, hastily pressed into service as best -man, sat puffing at a cigar with a persistency which indicated a -somewhat perturbed state of mind on his own part. - -"Brace up, Allan," he urged. "It'll be over before you realize it. -Remember my own wedding--gad, wasn't I frightened? Always that way -with a man--no sense to it, but he just can't help it. Never forget -that little parlor, with the flower of Marion society all about, and me -with my teeth chattering and my knees knocking together." - -"It is a bit of an ordeal," said Allan weakly. "Chap feels all sort -of--gone--inside--" - -The telephone, ringing sharply, interrupted. George Harrowby rose and -stepped to it. - -"Allan? You wish Allan? Very well. I'll tell him." - -He turned away from the telephone and faced his brother. - -"It was old Meyrick, kid. Seemed somewhat hot under the collar. Wants -to see you in their suite at once." - -"Wha--what do you imagine he wants?" - -"Going to make you a present of Riverside Drive, I fancy. Go ahead, -boy. I'll wait for you here." - -Allan Harrowby went out, along the dusky corridor to the Meyrick door. -Not without misgivings, he knocked. A voice boomed "Come!" He pushed -open the door. - -He saw Spencer Meyrick sitting purple at a table, and beside him -Cynthia Meyrick, in the loveliest gown of all the lovely gowns she had -ever worn. The beauty of the girl staggered Harrowby a bit; never -demonstrative, he had a sudden feeling that he should be at her feet. - -"You--you sent for me?" he asked, coming into the room. As he moved -closer to the girl he was to marry he saw that her face was whiter than -her gown, and her brown eyes strained and miserable. - -"We did," said Meyrick, rising. He held out a paper. "Will you please -look at that." - -His lordship took the sheet in unsteady hands. He glanced down. -Slowly the meaning of the story that met his gaze filtered through his -dazed brain. "Martin Wall did this," he thought to himself. He tried -to speak, but could not. Dumbly he stared at Spencer Meyrick. - -"We want no scene, Harrowby," said the old man wearily. "We merely -want to know if there is in existence a policy such as the one -mentioned here?" - -The paper slipped from his lordship's lifeless hands. He turned -miserably away. Not daring to face either father or daughter, he -answered very faintly: - -"There is." - -Spencer Meyrick sighed. - -"That's all we want to know. There will be no wedding, Harrowby." - -"Wha--what!" His lordship faced about "Why, sir--the guests must -be--down-stairs--" - -"It is--unfortunate. But there will be no wedding." The old man -turned to his daughter. "Cynthia," he asked, "have you nothing to say?" - -"Yes." White, trembling, the girl faced his lordship. "It seems, -Allan, that you have regarded our marriage as a business proposition. -You have gambled on the stability of the market. Well, you win. I -have changed my mind. This is final. I shall not change it again." - -"Cynthia!" And any who had considered Lord Harrowby unfeeling must -have been surprised at the anguish in his voice. "I have loved you--I -love you now. I adore you. What can I say in explanation--of this. -We gamble, all of us--it is a passion bred in the family. That is why -I took out this absurd policy. My dearest--it doesn't mean that there -was no love on my side. There is--there always will be, whatever -happens. Can't you understand--" - -The girl laid her hand on his arm, and drew him away to the window. - -"It's no use, Allan," she said, for his ears alone. "Perhaps I could -have forgiven--but somehow--I don't care--as I thought I did. It is -better, embarrassing as it may be for us both, that there should be no -wedding, after all." - -"Cynthia--you can't mean that. You don't believe me. Let me send for -my brother--he will tell you of the passion for gambling in our -family--he will tell you that I love you, too--" - -He moved toward the telephone. - -"No use," said Cynthia Meyrick, shaking her head. "It would only -prolong a painful scene. Please don't, Allan." - -"I'll send for Minot, too," Harrowby cried. - -"Mr. Minot?" The girl's eyes narrowed. "And what has Mr. Minot to do -with this?" - -"Everything. He came down here as the representative of Lloyds. He -came down to make sure that you didn't change your mind. He will tell -you that I love you--" - -A queer expression hovered about Miss Meyrick's lips. Spencer Meyrick -interrupted. - -"Nonsense," he cried. "There is no need to--" - -"One moment." Cynthia Meyrick's eyes shone strangely. "Send for your -brother, Allan. And--for--Mr. Minot." - -Harrowby stepped to the telephone. He summoned his forces. A strained -unhappy silence ensued. Then the two men entered the room together. - -"Minot--George, old boy," Lord Harrowby said helplessly. "Miss Meyrick -and her father have discovered the existence of a certain insurance -policy about which you both know. They have believed that my motive in -seeking a marriage was purely mercenary--that my affection for the girl -who is--was--to have become my wife can not be sincere. They are -wrong--quite wrong. Both of you know that. I've sent for you to help -me make them understand--I can not--" - -George Harrowby stepped forward, and smiled his kindly smile. - -"My dear young lady," he said. "I regret that policy very deeply. -When I first heard of it I, too, suspected Allan's motives. But after -I talked with him--after I saw you--I was convinced that his affection -for you was most sincere. I thought back to the gambling schemes for -which the family has been noted--I saw it was the old passion cropping -out anew in Allan--that he was really not to blame--that beyond any -question he was quite devoted to you. Otherwise I'd have done -everything in my power to prevent the wedding." - -"Yes?" Miss Meyrick's eyes flashed dangerously. "And--your other -witness, Allan?" - -The soul of the other witness squirmed in agony. This was too -much--too much! - -"You, Minot--" pleaded Harrowby. "You have understood--" - -"I have felt that you were sincerely fond of Miss Meyrick," Minot -replied. "Otherwise I should not have done--what I have done." - -"Then, Mr. Minot," the girl inquired, "you think I would be wrong to -give up all plans for the wedding?" - -"I--I--yes, I do," writhed Minot - -"And you advise me to marry Lord Harrowby at once?" - -Mr. Minot passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead. Had the girl -no mercy? - -"I do," he answered miserably. - -Cynthia Meyrick laughed, harshly, mirthlessly. - -"Because that's your business--your mean little business," she said -scornfully. "I know at last why you came to San Marco. I understand -everything. You had gambled with Lord Harrowby, and you came here to -see that you did not lose your money. Well, you've lost! Carry that -news back to the concern you work for! In spite of your heroic -efforts, you've lost! At the last moment Cynthia Meyrick changed her -mind!" - -Lost! The word cut Minot to the quick. Lost, indeed! Lost Jephson's -stake--lost the girl he loved! He had failed Jephson--failed himself! -After all he had done--all he had sacrificed. A double defeat, and -therefore doubly bitter. - -"Cynthia--surely you don't mean--" Lord Harrowby was pleading. - -"I do, Allan," said the girl more gently. "It was true--what I told -you--there by the window. It is better--father! Will you go down -and--say--I'm not to be married, after all?" - -Spencer Meyrick nodded, and turned toward the door. - -"Cynthia," cried Harrowby brokenly. There was no reply. Old Meyrick -went out. - -"I'm sorry," his lordship said. "Sorry I made such a mess of it--the -more so because I love you, Cynthia--and always shall. Good-by." - -He held out his hand. She put hers in it. - -"It's too bad, Allan," she said. "But--it wasn't to be. And, even -now, you have one consolation--the money that Lloyds must pay you." - -"The money means nothing, Cynthia--" - -"Miss Meyrick is mistaken," Minot interrupted. "Lord Harrowby has not -even that consolation. Lloyds owes him nothing." - -"Why not?" asked the girl defiantly. - -"Up to an hour ago," said Minot, "you were determined to marry his -lordship?" - -"I should hardly put it that way. But--I intended to." - -"Yes. Then you changed your mind. Why?" - -"I changed it because I found out about this ridiculous, this insulting -policy." - -"Then his lordship's taking out of the policy caused the calling off of -the wedding?" - -"Y--yes. Why?" - -"It may interest you to know--and it may interest Lord Harrowby to -recall--that five minutes before he took out this policy he signed an -agreement to do everything in his power to bring about the wedding. -And he further promised that if the wedding should be called off -because of any subsequent act of his, he would forfeit the premium." - -"By gad," said Lord Harrowby. - -"The taking out of the policy was a subsequent act," continued Minot. -"The premium, I fancy, is forfeited." - -"He's got you, Allan," said George Harrowby, coming forward, "and I for -one can't say I'm sorry. You're going to tear up that policy now--and -go to work for me." - -"I for one am sorry," cried Miss Meyrick, her flashing eyes on Minot. -"I wanted you to win, Allan. I wanted you to win." - -"Why?" Minot asked innocently. - -"You ought to know," she answered, and turned away. - -Lord Harrowby moved toward the door. - -"We're not hard losers," he said blankly. "But--everything's -gone--it's a bit of a smash-up. Good-by, Cynthia." - -"Good-by, Allan--and good luck." - -"Thanks." And Harrowby went out with his brother. - -Minot stood for a time, not daring to move. Cynthia Meyrick was at the -window; her scornful back was not encouraging. Finally she turned, saw -Minot and gave a start of surprise. - -"Oh--you're still here?" - -"Cynthia, now you understand," he said. "You know why I acted as I -did. You realize my position. I was in a horrible fix--" - -She looked at him coldly. - -"Yes," she said, "I do understand. You were gambling on me. You came -down here to defend your employer's cash. Well, you have succeeded. -Is there anything more to be said?" - -"Isn't there? On the ramparts of the old fort the other night--" - -"Please do not make yourself any more ridiculous than is necessary. -You have put your employer's money above my happiness. Always. -Really, you looked rather cheap to-day, with your sanctimonious advice -that I marry Harrowby. Aren't you beginning to realize your own -position--the silly childish figure you cut?" - -"Then you--" - -"Last night when you came staggering across the lawn to me with this -foolish gown in your arms--I told you I hated you. Do you imagine I -hate you any less now. Well, I don't." Her voice became tearful. "I -hate you! I hate you!" - -"But some day--" - -She turned away from him, for she was sobbing outright now. - -"I never want to see you again as long as I live," she cried. "Never! -Never! Never!" - -Limp, pitiable, worn by the long fight he had waged, Minot stood -staring helplessly at her heaving shoulders. - -"Then--I can only say I'm sorry," he murmured. "And--good-by." - -He waited. She did not turn toward him. He stumbled out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -"WELL, HARDLY EVER--" - -Minot went below and sent two messages, one to Jephson, the other to -Thacker. The lobby of the De la Pax was thronged with brilliantly -attired wedding guests who, metaphorically, beat their breasts in -perplexity over the tidings that had come even as they craned their -necks to catch the first glimpse of that distinguished bridal party. -The lavishly decorated parlor that was to have been the scene of the -ceremony stood tragically deserted. Minot cast one look at it, and -hurried again to his own particular cell. - -He took a couple of time-tables from his desk, and sat down in a chair -facing the window. All over now. Nothing to do but return to the -North, as fast as the trains would take him. He had won, but he had -also lost. He felt listless, weary. He let the time-tables fall to -the floor, and sat gazing out at that narrow -street--thinking--wondering--wishing-- - -It was late in the afternoon when the clamor of his telephone recalled -him to himself. He leaped up, and seized the receiver. Allan -Harrowby's voice came over the wire. - -"Can you run down to the room, Minot?" he inquired. "The last call, -old boy." - -Minot went. He found both the Harrowbys there, prepared to say good-by -to San Marco forever. - -"Going to New York on the _Lady Evelyn_," said George Harrowby, who was -aggressively cheerful. "From there I'm taking Allan to Chicago. Going -to have him reading George Ade and talking our language in a week." - -Lord Harrowby smiled wanly. - -"Nothing left but Chicago," he drawled. "I wanted to see you before I -went, Minot, old chap. Not that I can thank you for all you did--I -don't know how. You stood by me like--like a gentleman. And I realize -that I have no claim on Lloyds--it was all my fault--if I'd never let -Martin Wall have that confounded policy-- But what's the use of -if-ing? All my fault. And--my thanks, old boy." He sighed. - -"Nonsense," said Minot. "A business proposition, solely, from my point -of view. There's no thanks coming to me." - -"It seems to me," said George Harrowby, "that as the only victor in -this affair, you don't exhibit a proper cheerfulness. By the way, we'd -be delighted to take you north on our boat. Why not--" - -But Minot shook his head. - -"Can't spare the time--thank you just the same," he replied. "I'd like -nothing better--" - -Amid expressions of regret, the Harrowbys started for the elevator. -Minot walked along the dusky corridor with them. - -"We've had a bit of excitement--what?" said Allan. "If you're ever in -London, you're to be my guest. Old George has some sort of a berth for -me over there--" - -"Not a berth, Allan," objected George, pressing the button for the -elevator. "You're not going to sleep. A job. Might as well begin to -talk the Chicago language now. Mr. Minot, I, too, want to thank you--" - -They stepped into the elevator, the door slammed, the car began to -descend. Minot stood gazing through the iron scroll work until the -blond head of the helpless Lord Harrowby moved finally out of sight. -Then he returned to his room and the time-tables, which seemed such -dull unhappy reading. - -Mr. Jack Paddock appeared to invite Minot to take dinner with him. His -bags, he remarked, were all packed, and he was booked for the seven -o'clock train. - -"I've slipped down the mountain of gold," he said in the course of the -dinner. "But all good things must end, and I certainly had a good -thing. Somehow, I'm not so gloomy as I ought to be." - -"Where are you going, Jack?" Minot asked. - -Mr. Paddock leaned over confidentially. - -"Did I say her father was in the plumbing business?" he inquired. "My -error, Dick. He owns a newspaper--out in Grand Rapids. Offered me a -job any time I wanted it. Great joke then--pretty serious now. For -I'm going out to apply." - -"I'm glad of it." - -"So am I, Dick. I was a fool to let her go back like that. Been -thinking it all over--and over--one girl in--how many are there in the -world, should you say? The other day I had a chill. It occurred to me -maybe she'd gone and married the young man with the pale purple necktie -who passes the plate in the Methodist Church. So I beat it to the -telegraph counter. And--" - -"She's heart whole and fancy free?" - -"O.K. in both respects. So it's me for Grand Rapids. And say, Dick, -I--er--I want you to know I'd sent that telegram before the accident -last night. As a matter of fact, I sent it two days ago." - -"Good boy," said Minot. "I knew this game down here didn't satisfy -you. May I be the first to wish you joy?" - -"You? With a face like a defeated candidate? I say, cheer up! She'll -stretch out eager arms in your direction yet." - -"I don't believe it, Jack." - -"Well, while there's life there's still considerable hope lying loose -about the landscape. That's why I don't urge you to take the train -with me." - -An hour later Mr. Paddock spoke further cheering words in his friend's -ear, and departed for the North. And in that city of moonlight and -romance Minot was left (practically) alone. - -He took a little farewell walk through that quaint old town, then -retired to his room to read another chapter in the time-table. At -four-twenty in the morning, he noted, a small local train would leave -for Jacksonville. He decided he would take it. With no parlor cars, -no sleepers, he would not be likely to encounter upon it any of the -startled wedding party bound north. - -The call he left did not materialize, and it was four o'clock when he -awoke. Hastily in the chill dawn he bade farewell to town and hotel. -In fifteen minutes he had left both behind, and was speeding toward the -small yellow station set on the town's edge. He glanced feverishly at -his watch. There was need of haste, for this train was made up in San -Marco, and had had as yet no chance to be late. - -He rushed through the gate just as it was being closed, and caught a -dreary little train in the very act of pulling out. Gloomy oil lamps -sought vainly to lessen the dour aspect of its two coaches. Panting, -he entered the rear coach and threw himself and his bag into a seat. - -Five seconds later he glanced across the aisle and discovered in the -opposite seat Miss Cynthia Meyrick, accompanied by a very sleepy-eyed -family! - -"The devil!" said Minot to himself. He knew that she would see in this -utter accident nothing save a deliberate act of following. What use to -protest his innocence? - -He considered moving to another seat. But such a theatric act could -only increase the embarrassment. Already his presence had been -noted--Aunt Mary had given him a glare, Spencer Meyrick a scowl, the -girl a cloudy vague "where have I seen this person before?" glance in -passing. - -Might as well make the best of it. He settled himself in his seat. -Once again, as on another railroad car, he sought to keep his eyes on -the landscape without--the dim landscape with the royal palms waving -like grim ghosts in the half light. The train sped on. - -A most uncomfortable situation! If only it would grow light! It -seemed so silly to be forced to find the view out the window entrancing -while it was still very dark. - -Spencer Meyrick went forward to the smoker. Aunt Mary, weary of life, -slid gently down to slumber. Her unlovely snore filled the dim car. - -How different this from the first ride together! The faint pink of the -sky grew brighter. Now Minot could see the gray moss hanging to the -evergreens, and here and there a squalid shack where human beings lived -and knew nothing of life. And beside him he heard a sound as of a -large body being shaken. Also the guttural protest of Aunt Mary at -this inconsiderate treatment. - -Aunt Mary triumphed. Her snore rose to shatter the smoky roof. Three -times Minot dared to look, and each time wished he hadn't. The whole -sky was rosy now. Somewhere off behind the horizon the good old sun -was rising to go to work for the passenger department of the coast -railroad. - -Some sense in looking out now. Minot saw a shack that seemed -familiar--then another. Next a station, bearing on its sad shingle the -cheery name of "Sunbeam." And close to the station, gloomy in the -dawn, a desiccated chauffeur beside an aged automobile. - -Minot turned quickly, and caught Cynthia Meyrick in the act of peering -over his shoulder. She had seen the chauffeur too. - -The train had stopped a moment, but was under way again. In those -brown eyes Minot saw something wistful, something hurt,--saw things -that moved him to put everything to a sudden test. He leaped to his -feet and pulled madly at the bell cord. - -"What--what have you done?" Startled, she stared at him. - -"I've stopped the train. I'm going to ride to Jacksonville as I rode -to San Marco--ages ago. I'm not going alone." - -"Indeed?" - -"Quick. The conductor will be here in a minute. Here's a card and -pencil--write a note for Aunt Mary. Say you'll meet them in -Jacksonville! Hurry, please!" - -"Mr. Minot!" With great dignity. - -"One last ride together. One last chance for me to--to set things -right if I can." - -"If you can." - -"If--I admit it. Won't you give me the chance? I thought you would be -game. I dare you!" - -For a second they gazed into each other's eyes. The train had come to -a stop, and Aunt Mary stirred fretfully in her sleep. With sudden -decision Cynthia Meyrick wrote on the card and dropped it on her -slumbering relative. - -"I know I'll be sorry--but--" she gasped. - -"Hurry! This way! The conductor's coming there!" - -A moment later they stood together on the platform of the Sunbeam -station, while the brief little train disappeared indignantly in the -distance. - -"You shouldn't have made me do that!" cried the girl in dismay. "I'm -always doing things on the spur of the moment--things I regret -afterward--" - -"I know. You explained that to me once. But you can also do things on -the spur of the moment that you're glad about all your life. Oh--good -morning, Barney Oldfield." - -"Good morning," replied the rustic chauffeur with gleeful recognition. -"Where's it to this time, mister?" - -"Jacksonville. And no hurry at all." Minot held open the door and the -girl stepped into the car. - -"The gentleman is quite mistaken," she said to the chauffeur. "There -is a very great hurry." - -"Ages of time until luncheon," replied Minot blithely, also getting in. -"If you were thinking of announcing--something--then." - -"I shall have nothing to announce, I'm sure. But I must be in -Jacksonville before that train. Father will be furious." - -"Trust me, lady," said the chauffeur, grinding again at his hooded -music-box. "I've been doing stunts with this car since I saw you last. -Been over a hundred miles from Sunbeam. Begins to look as though -Florida wasn't going to be big enough, after all." - -He leaped to the wheel, and again that ancient automobile carried -Cynthia Meyrick and the representative of Lloyds out of the town of -Sunbeam. But the exit was not a laughing one. The girl's eyes were -serious, cold, and with real concern in his voice Minot spoke: - -"Won't you forgive me--can't you? I was only trying to be faithful to -the man who sent me down here--faithful through everything--as I should -be faithful to you if you gave me the chance. Is it too -late--Cynthia--" - -"There was a time," said the girl, her eyes wide, "when it was not too -late. Have you forgotten? That night on the balcony, when I threw -myself at your feet, and you turned away. Do you think that was a -happy moment for me?" - -"Was it happy for me, for that matter?" - -"Oh, I was humiliated, ashamed. Then your silly rescue of my -gown--your advice to me to marry Harrowby--" - -"Would you have had me throw over the men who trusted me--" - -"I--I don't know. I only know that I can't forgive what has -happened--in a minute--" - -"What was that last?" - -"Nothing." - -"You said in a minute." - -"Your ears are deceiving you." - -"Cynthia--you're not going to punish me because I was faithful-- Don't -you suppose I tried to get some one in my place?" - -"Did you?" - -"The day I first rode in this car with you. And then--I stopped -trying--" - -"Why?" - -"Because I realized that if some one came in my place I'd have to go -away and never see you again--and I couldn't do that I had to be near -you, dear girl--don't worry, he can't hear, the motor's too noisy--I -had to be where I could see that little curl making a question mark -round your ear--where I could hear your voice--I had to be near you -even if to do it I must break my heart by marrying you to another man. -I loved you. I love you now--" - -A terrific crash interrupted. Dolefully the chauffeur descended from -the car to make an examination. Dolefully he announced the result. - -"Busted right off," he remarked. "Say, I'm sorry. I'll have to walk -back to the garage at Sunbeam and--and I'm afraid you'll have to jest -sit here until I come back." - -He went slowly down the road, and the two sat in that ancient car in -the midst of sandy desolation. - -"Cynthia," Minot cried. "I worship you. Won't you--" - -The girl gave a strange little cry. - -"I wanted to be cross with you a little longer," she said almost -tearfully. "But I can't. I wonder why I can't. I cried all night at -the thought of never seeing you again. I wonder why I cried. I -guess--it's because--for the first time--I'm really--in love." - -"Cynthia!" - -"Oh, Dick--don't let me change my mind again--ever--ever!" - -"Only over my dead body!" - -With one accord they turned and looked at that quaint southern -chauffeur plodding along through the dust and the sunshine. It did not -seem to either of them that there was any danger of his looking back. - -And, happily, he didn't. - - - -THE END - - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Insurance, by Earl Derr Biggers - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE INSURANCE *** - -***** This file should be named 56077-8.txt or 56077-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/0/7/56077/ - -Produced by Al Haines -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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