Love insuranceEarl Derr Biggers L0VE «J«] 1 ! i INSURANCE ¥S,3. /Cr Darvaro College Xlbrarp FROM LOVE INSURANCE ! OYE INSURANCE EARL DERR RIGGERS A.itk S.L. tf. Ktl -> TO BA! ---All FRANK SN MM' P> '\ -.-.'-( M.I'. C>nth1a l LOVE INSURANCE By EARL DERR BIGGERS Authm-of SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK SNAPP INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS At 74?. 3- If* y Copvr1ght 1914 The Bobbs-Mewill Company t^ . >frfv yu W • Cu^rruryHy PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH B, CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTtR* BROOKLYN, N. V. CONTENTS CHAPTER I A Sporting Propos1t1on . II An Evening in the River . PAGB 1 III Journeys End in—Tax1 Bills IV Mr. Tr1mmer L1mbers Up V Mr. Trimmer Throws H1s Bomb VI Ten M1nutes of Agony . VII Chain L1ghtning's Collar VIII After the Trained Seals DC "Wanted: Board and Room" X Two B1rds of Passage XI Tears From the Gaiety . XII Ex1t a Lady, Laughingly . XIII "And On the Sh1ps at Sea" XIV Jersey C1ty 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. M1not Goes Through F1re XX "Please Kill" XXI H1gh Words at High Noon XXII "Well, Hardly Ever—" 23 40 57 75 96 112 131 150 168 187 202 228 247 269 286 301 321 341 360 376 388 LOVE INSURANCE LOVE INSURANCE CHAPTER I A SPORTING PROPOSITION OUTSIDE a gilt-lettered door on the seven- teenth floor of a New York office building, a tall young man in a fur-lined coat stood shiver- ing. 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 pain- ful, 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 Great- est Gambling Institution in the World"—went on oblivious to the shiverer who approached. I 2 LOVE INSURANCE 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 dis- tinguished— 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. A SPORTING PROPOSITION 3 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 pros- perity 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. Stead- ily 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. 4 LOVE INSURANCE "I—well—I—" he stammered. Oh, come, come, thought Mr. Thacker im- patiently. "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 state- ment that it is utterly—fantastic. And if I add also that it should be known to the fewest pos- sible number." Mr. Thacker waved his hand across the gleam- ing surfaces of two desks. "This is my assistant manager, Mr. Richard A SPORTING PROPOSITION 5 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 finan- cially 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." A SPORTING PROPOSITION 7 streak in him that odd risks appeal to," he went on. "Of course, he's scientific. All Lloyds' risks are scientifically investigated. But—occasion- ally—well, Jephson insured Sir Christopher Con- way, 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 Har- rowby. Mr. Minot set down the telephone. "Owen Jephson is on his way here in a taxi," he an- nounced. "Good old Jephson," mused Mr. Thacker, rem- iniscent. "Why, some of the man's risks are famous. Take that shopkeeper in the Strand— every day at noon the shadow of Nelson's Monu- ment 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 Har- rowby, with the ghost of a smile. 8 LOVE INSURANCE "You must have. Only recently Jephson wrote a policy for the Dowager Duchess of Tremayne, insuring her against the unhappy event of a rain- storm 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 The- ater. 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 na- ture—" But when Mr. Jephson walked into the office fifteen minutes later Mr. Thacker was still la- mentably ignorant of the nature of his titled vis- itor's business. Mr. Jephson was a small wiry man, crowned by a vast acreage of bald head, and with the immobile countenance sometimes A SPORTING PROPOSITION g 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 Har- rowby, have a proposition to make to me as an underwriter in Lloyds." They sat down. Alas, if Mr. Burke, who com- piled the well-known Peerage, could have seen Lord Harrowby then, what distress would have 1o LOVE INSURANCE been his! For a most unlordly flush again man- tled that British check. A nobleman was su- premely 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 un- derstand. Naturally, it has been suggested to me that I exchange my name and title for the mil- lions 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 Con- tinent—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 fin- ished. Mr. Minot leaned back in his chair and smiled a most engaging smile. "Perfectly," he said. "Thank you," went on Lord Harrowby in all A SPORTING PROPOSITION n seriousness. "It was only incidental—quite ir- relevant—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 for- tune has, I believe, been accumulated in oil." Mr. Thacker's eyebrows rose respectfully. "A week from next Tuesday," said Lord Har- rowby 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 12 LOVE INSURANCE 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 rivet- ing 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 A SPORTING PROPOSITION 13 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 Har- rowby?" "Well—say one hundred thousand pounds," suggested his lordship. "I realize that my prop- osition is fantastic. I really admitted as much. But—" "One hundred thousand pounds." Mr. Jeph- son 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?" 14 LOVE INSURANCE "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 alli- ance? 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 pa- 16 LOVE INSURANCE course, I have not forfeited by reason of this agreement. I shall write you a check, Mr. Jeph- son." 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 lord- ship 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." A SPORTING PROPOSITION 17 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 de- pends 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 play- ing. And he played like the devil—the earl did —won the game himself. Ah, I know the breed." 18 LOVE INSURANCE "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, reflect- ing. "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. Thack- er'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 im- pending in his heart. A SPORTING PROPOSITION 19 "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 20 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Jeph- son here must be saved from himself. That wed- ding 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 blos- soms or I know the reason why." "Jephson trusts Harrowby," said Mr. Thacker. "All very well. But just the same if I were you A SPORTING PROPOSITION 21 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 Har- rowby 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 prom- ised. 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. 22 LOVE INSURANCE "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 lane to San Marco. 24 LOVE INSURANCE 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 mo- ment felt their pampered hearts go pit-a-pat and, closing their eyes, saw visions and dreamed dreams. Lord Harrowby was at luncheon, and sent AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 25 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 be- cause 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 lord- ship is no doubt surprised at seeing me so soon—""Well—er—not at all. Shall I order lunch- eon?" "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 26 LOVE INSURANCE 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. Jeph- son'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 AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 27 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." 28 LOVE INSURANCE 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 in- structions 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, noth- ing 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 sarcastic- ally. "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. AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 29 Could anything 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 proposi- tion. 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?" 3o LOVE INSURANCE "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 Har- rowby 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 Har- rowby 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 determin- edly 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. AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 31 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 exist- ence 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, 32 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ex- pensive 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 fol- lowed. Lord Harrowby's car proceeded to the drive and, turning, sped north between the moonlit river and the manlit apartment-houses. In the AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 33 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 dismiss- ing his own car, he ran back in time to see Lord Harrowby disappear down one of the stone stair- ways 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 Jer- sey. 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 34 LOVE INSURANCE to it, but a chain and padlock held it firmly. He must hurry. Aboard the yacht, dancing impa- tiently on the bosom of Hendrick Hudson's im- portant 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 ac- commodation 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 de- serted. 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 be- tween him and them proved to be a large com- manding gentleman, whose silhouette was par- AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 35 ticularly 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 de- lighted, 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. 36 LOVE INSURANCE "Lloyds," he said. An expression of mingled rage and dismay came into the pudgy face. It purpled in the moon- light. Its huge owner came threateningly to- ward the dripping Minot. "Back into the river for yours," he said sav- agely. 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 AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 2>7 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, mov- ing slowly down the silver path of the moon. An old man was launching the padlocked rowboat. "Great night for a swim," he remarked sar- castically. "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 sus- picious." 38 LOVE INSURANCE "What was the old name?" "The Lady Evelyn. If I was you, I'd get out- side 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 water- man, 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. Bet- ter go down and help the bride with her trous- seau." "Yes, sir. I'll do that. And I'll see to it that she has her lamp trimmed and burning. Con- sidering 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 AN EVENING IN THE RIVER 39 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 Mey- rick r 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 flat yellow landscape like an aged alli- gator. 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. Re- luctant as Romeo in his famous exit from Juliet's boudoir, it got out of Jacksonville an hour later. 40 JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 41 And San Marco was just two hours away, ac- cording 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 look- ing out of a car window for a couple of eternities. Save for the diversion at Jacksonville, nothing had happened to brighten that long and weari- some 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 land- scape. 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 42 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Jack- sonville. Beautiful, yes—but she fidgeted. She had fidgeted madly in the station at Jacksonville dur- ing 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 JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 43 along beside the track with a determined de- meanor 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?" 44 LOVE INSURANCE 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?"—plead- ingly, 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 JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 45 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 sugges- tion. Five cheerful minutes passed in rapid tran- sit. 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 Sun- beam. 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—" 46 LOVE INSURANCE But the girl was already on her way. "Come on!" Her eyes were bright with ex- citement. "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 passe automobile was startled speechless for a moment by the sight of two such attractive vis- itors in his unattractive town. Then he remem- bered. "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. JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 47 "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 48 LOVE INSURANCE 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 for- get 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 be- fore. 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 set> JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 49 tlement, and out into the sand and heat of a nar- row 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 cap- tured 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 dim- ple 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 % flood of memories—a little sad—of all the 50 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ques- tion?" she said at last. "How do you like Florida?" "It's wonderful, isn't it?" Minot replied, com- ing 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 stop- watch 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?" JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 51 "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. 52 LOVE INSURANCE "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 with- out enthusiasm. "I wonder what she's up to now?" he re- marked. "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 JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS '53 cheeks flaming, her eyes alight. Minot watched her. And suddenly all the happy, sad little mem- ories melted into a golden glow—the glow of be- ing 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 54 LOVE INSURANCE 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 cush- ions. "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 JOURNEYS END IN—TAXI BILLS 55 strokes. She should be his. She must be. Be- fore 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 56 LOVE INSURANCE 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 over- charge 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 con- gratulate you. Henry M. Stanley in the flower of his youth couldn't have done any better." 57 58 LOVE INSURANCE "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 flourish- ing 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 tb at bore MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 59 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 Man- hattan 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 60 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Men- delssohn. 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 MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 61 chrough. 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 dif- ficulty 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 gal- 62 LOVE INSURANCE leries besought, news-stands, soda-water foun- tains 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 MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 63 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 op- posite 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 64 LOVE INSURANCE excitement no doubt put there by the most im- portant luncheon of her life. He waited for her to recognize him—and he did not wait in vain. "Ah, Mr.—" "Minor." "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. MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 65 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 66 LOVE INSURANCE 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 glitter- ing picture. He leaped to meet her. "Sitting here dreaming, I reckon," she whis- pered, "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 thought- less this noon. But you must forgive me—I was so excited. Mr. Minot—I owe you—" MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 67 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 moon- light, 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. Lord Harrowby is her triumph, you see. But father can't go north in the winter— ind Allan wishes to be married at once." MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 69 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 sub- stitute arrives, but start him when you get this. "R1chard M1not." 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 £o LOVE INSURANCE 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 ver- anda 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 walk- ing 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 MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 71 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. Trim- mer is my name—never mind the jokes. Henry Trimmer. Advertising specialist. Is your busi- ness flabby? Does itneed a tonic? Try Trim- mer. Quoting from my letter-head." He leaned 72 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Mey- rick. 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?" MR. TRIMMER LIMBERS UP 73 "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 74 LOVE INSURANCE trembling fingers. Slowly the memory of Trim- mer 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 Tues- day 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 75 76 LOVE INSURANCE 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 en- gaged 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 MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 77 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 every- thing 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 remem- ber when you were born—in the flat down on Second Street—and your father wearing his old 78 LOVE INSURANCE • • 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 ,i 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 ap- peared 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 MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 79 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 represen- tative 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 lacka- daisical "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. 80 LOVE INSURANCE "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 pro- tect themselves from the gay dogs who roamed the seas. Its massive walls spoke clearly of ro- mance, 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 color- MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 81 ful 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 82 LOVE INSURANCE 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 I The graft I mentioned yesterday." He glanced MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 83 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 Zanes- ville, 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 84 LOVE INSURANCE 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." MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 85 "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." 86 LOVE INSURANCE 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 tele- gram 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 MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 87 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 water- front, 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 par- lor?" Cynthia Meyrick smiled down on him. "Splendid," Minot laughed. "I walk forlorn through this bid Spanish town—suddenly a 88 LOVE INSURANCE 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 MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 89 into each other's eyes, don't they usually under- stand?" "Do they?" "Don't they? You surely have had more ex- perience 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?" LOVE INSURANCE 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." "Havel? 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—" MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 91 "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 fiance's side. As he dressed for dinner that night his tele- phone 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." 92 LOVE INSURANCE "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 Mar- tin 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. MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 93 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 un- realities 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. LOVE INSURANCE It was after dinner, when they all stood to- gether 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, talk- ing 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 com- ment, 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 ex- cited 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: MR. TRIMMER THROWS HIS BOMB 95 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 44 A LL I ask, Mister Harrowby, is that you Xm. 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 lord- ship's hotel suite. Also present—at Harrowby's invitation—were Martin Wall and Mr. Minot. His lordship turned his gray eyes on Trim- mer'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. 96 TEN MINUTES OF AGONY 97 "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 occa- sion for prolonging this interview." Mr. Trimmer leaned forward. He was a big man, but his face was incongruously thin—al- most 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 Har- rowby. "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 98 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ad- venturers have questioned the Harrowby title. The dignity of our family demands that I re- fuse 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. TEN MINUTES OF AGONY 99 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, per- fumes, 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 cor- rect 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." 1oo LOVE INSURANCE "For the moment, I will," smiled Mr. Trim- mer. "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 de- canter. "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. "A1 rank impostor." "Of course." Mr. Wall set down his glass. TEN MINUTES OF AGONY 101 "But don't worry. If Trimmer gets too ob- streperous, 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 wed- ding 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 sooth- ingly, "I appreciate your position. But there was nothing to be gained by seeing Mr. Trim- mer's friend. The Meyricks were distressed, naturally, by that ridiculous sandwich-board af- fair 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." 102 LOVE INSURANCE "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 Har- rowby 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," an- swered 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 Pad- dock's hand shown. The dinner was to be in TEN MINUTES OF AGONY 103 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. Mar- tin 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 LOVE INSURANCE and odd were the lands that had known him. He had loaned money to a prince of Algiers (on ex- cellent security), broken bread with a sultan, or- ganized 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 nar- row 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 JEN MINUTES OF AGONY 105 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—" 106 LOVE INSURANCE "My little girl," cried the clerk in agony. He turned to Martin Wall, hesitating. His sallow face was white now, his lips trembled. Doubt- fully 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 unaccount- able 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 el- bow 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 TEN MINUTES OF AGONY 107 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. 108 LOVE INSURANCE 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." TEN MINUTES OF AGONY 109 "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 cross- ing 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 hap- pened. 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, no LOVE INSURANCE 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 TEN MINUTES OF AGONY in boon companion the ablest jewel thief in Amer- ica! Just what did that mean? Putting on coat and hat, he hurried to the ho- tel 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. Jeph- son 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 re- splendent 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 112 CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR n3 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 cig- arette. "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 Hollow- way. 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 Eve- lyn's beauty. Well, it happened before Tam- many 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?" 114 LOVE INSURANCE "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 Pitts- burgh 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 con- sidered. 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 CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 115 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 Na- ture 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 n6 LOVE INSURANCE 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 M1ft. 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 com- pletely? Only her sisters of the stage could sym- pathize 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 en- gagement rings on hands across the sea." A soft voice spoke in Minot's ear. "Mine," Mr. Paddock was saying. "Not bad, CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 117 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 re- call 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 u8 LOVE INSURANCE 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 snob- bish 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 Sun- day newspaper. "I'm mad about the stage," she confided. "Of course, we get all the best shows in Omaha. Why, CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 119 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 to- gether? 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 supple- ments 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. 120 LOVE INSURANCE "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 lord- ship. "I think of Helen, Lord Harrowby, be- cause she, too, married into your nobility. Her father made his money in sausage in the Middle CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 121 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 re- member suggesting at the time, in view of the sausage: 'A family is no stronger than its weak- est 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 un- conscious. 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?" 122 LOVE INSURANCE "No—er—sorry to say I don't—" "A charming chap. In some ways. Helen was a Shavian in considering marriage the chief pur- suit of women. She pursued. Followed Lis- more 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 pro- ceeded. The guests bent over their food, shipped to Mrs. Bruce in a refrigerating car from New CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 123 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. 124 LOVE INSURANCE Mr. Bruce only grunted, but Mr. Paddock an- swered 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 Har- rowby 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, con- templative. 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 CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 125 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 Light- ning'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." 126 LOVE INSURANCE "No matter," Harrowby replied. "Don't give it another thought, my child." "But how can I help—" "I shall telephone the police at once," an- nounced Spencer Meyrick. "I beg you'll do nothing of the sort," expostu- lated Lord Harrowby. "It would be a great in- convenience—the thing wasn't worth the pub- licity that would result. I insist that the police be kept out of this." Argument—loud on Mr. Meyrick's part—en- sued. 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 confu- sion, the return to the house started. Mr. Pad- dock 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 o o § 1 CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 127 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 in- quired. 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 talk- ing about." And then Minot added sarcastically: "Sorry to bore you with this." 128 LOVE INSURANCE 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 be- neath 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 go- ing 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 CHAIN LIGHTNING'S COLLAR 129 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 I" Angrily Mr. Minot stood turn- ing the necklace over in his hand. "So he fright- ened the girl he is to marry—the girl he is sup- posed 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. Noth- ing 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 Caesar'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 en- LOVE INSURANCE tered 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. L 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 mo- ment! "What's Harrowby up to, I wonder?" he re- 131 132 LOVE INSURANCE fleeted. "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. Fer- ries were held up by ice in the river. A breeze from the Arctic swept round the Flatiron build- ing. Here lazy summer lolled on the bosom of the town. In the hotel dining-room Mr. Minot encoun- tered Jack Paddock, superb in white flannels above his grapefruit. He accepted Paddock's in- vitation to join him. "By the way," said Mrs. Bruce's jester, hold- ing 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 Span- iard from Havana named Manuel Gonzale. Slipped in here on his rubber soles, Gonzale did AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 133 —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 morn- ing to our proud and haughty friend, Lord Har- rowby. For example, Madame On Dit, writing in her column on page one, has this to say: 'The impecunious but titled Englishman who has ar- rived in our midst recently with the idea of con- necting with certain American dollars has an in- teresting 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 begin- ning. 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. 134 LOVE INSURANCE Trimmer. I had almost forgot him in the ex- citement 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," re- plied Mr. Paddock with burlesque seriousness, "is that you are unmistakably lacking in my pow- ers 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. Sim- ple enough. I went through the list of guests for AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 135 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. Lunch- eon over, Mr. Paddock suggested a drive to Tarragona Island. "A little bit of nowhere a mile off-shore," he 136 LOVE INSURANCE said. "No man can ever know the true inward- ness of the word lonesome until he's seen Tar- ragona." 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 nar- row 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. Pad- dock. "Lonesome," shivered Minot. "Even God has 138 LOVE INSURANCE The girl and Harrowby led the way, and Minot and Paddock followed with Spencer Mey- rick. 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 amuse- ment, 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 Mey- rick at his side. Beyond her sat Lord Harrow- AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 139 by, gazing with rapt British seriousness at the humorous film that was being flashed on the screen. Between pictures Harrowby offered an opin- ion. "You in America are a jolly lot," he said. "Just fancy our best people in England attend- ing 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 en- tranced 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 hun- dred and one tones of her voice—all, aU again as it had been in that ridiculous automobile— just before the awakening. After the third picture the lights of the audi- torium were turned up, and the hour of vaude- ville 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 140 LOVE INSURANCE 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 en- core from a kindly audience, the drop-curtain was raised and revealed on the stage in gleam- ing splendor Captain Ponsonby's troupe of trained seals. An intelligent aggregation they proved, balancing balls on their small heads, jug- gling 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 AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 141 conquering hero. For a moment he stood smil- ing 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 after- noon, I am working in the interests of justice. The gentleman who accompanies me to your de- lightful little city is beyond any question whatso- ever 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 sub- ject 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- 142 LOVE INSURANCE 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 be- side 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. Trim- mer 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 AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 143 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 Harrow- bys had dwelt. It was as though he took his au- dience 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 re- vealed 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. 144 LOVE INSURANCE And far away, they beheld the trees that fur- nished 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 neigh- bors, 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 prefer- ences 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 side- board, and upset a whole household. And he narrated a dozen similar exploits, each garnished with small illuminating details. AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 145 His audience sat fascinated. All who listened felt that his words rang true—even Lord Har- rowby 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 Ray- brook 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 au- dience. "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 146 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Spen- cer Meyrick followed immediately. His lord- ship 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 think- ing of? But he maddened me—I—" "Don't worry, Allan," said Miss Meyrick AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 147 gently. "I like you the better for being mad- dened." 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 face- tiously, "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 troub- led 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 Har- rowby! 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." 148 LOVE INSURANCE "Why, what's it to you?" "It happens to be everything. But keep it un- der 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 an- AFTER THE TRAINED SEALS 149 swer. 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 passage- way? CHAPTER IX "WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM* S Dick Minot bent over to pick up his A L 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 an- swered. "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—" ISO "WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 151 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 neck- lace?" "Some other time, please. Sorry to incon- venience 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. Con- LOVE INSURANCE . sidcrs 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 in- definitely postponed, unless that impostor is re- moved from the scene immediately." "Oh—unless," said Minot. His heart sank. His smile vanished. "Unless was the word, I fancy," said Har- rowby, blinking wisely. "Lord Harrowby," Minot began, "you inti- mated 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 considera- tion whatever. And by the by, Minot—you will note that the postponement is through no fault of mine." Minot made a wry face. o tJ "WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 153 "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 moon- light 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—U9—er— you." "Splendid of you, really," said Harrowby en- thusiastically, 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 row- boat 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 an- 154 LOVE INSURANCE swered. "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 sus- pected 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 in- quired. "A deserved rebuke," Minot returned. "Time flies, and my errand is a pressing one. Am I WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 15$ right in assuming, Mr. Wall, that you are Lord Harrowby's friend?" 1 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 fiancee 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 neighbor- hood 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 neigh- 156 LOVE INSURANCE borhood. 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 back- woods constable." "What do you mean by that, my boy?" said Wall, with an ugly stare. WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 157 "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 mounte- bank! 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 158 LOVE INSURANCE buy a champagne supper for a trained seal, will you? I don't want to have to listen to Mr. Trim- mer 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 pomp- ous 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 sug- gests—" "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 ".WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 159 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. Trim- mer 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, mov- ing away. "Not that I have been particularly impressed 160 LOVE INSURANCE 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 gravel 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 WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 161 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. Theat- rical 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 reminis- cences flowed on. Mr. Minot sat enraptured— 162 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ar- rangement 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 "WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 163 of the opera-house Trimmer sought his proposi- tion. "Who d'yer mean?" asked the lone stage-hand there. "George, Lord Harrowby," insisted Mr. Trim- mer. "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 en- tered Lord Harrowby's apartments in the Hotel de la Pax. "Well," he anounced, "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. LOVE INSURANCE 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 des- perately 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 Har- rowby, mopping his damp forehead. "Fifty thousand she wants for the letters or she gives "WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 165 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—tele- phone rules in the way. Think you're going to WANTED: BOARD AND ROOM" 167 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 168 TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 169 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 in- nocents 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!" lyo LOVE INSURANCE "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 TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 171 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 con- verse with a citizen of San Marco. In a moment he returned to his companion's side. "One newspaper," he announced. "The Eve- ning 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 I" 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 with- out 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 172 LOVE INSURANCE 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 be- fore 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—" TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 173 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 news- paper for two long dreary years, and this laugh you've just handed me is the first I've had dur- ing 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." 1?4 LOVE INSURANCE He rose from his chair, and gave them direc- tions 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 TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 175 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 news- paper 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 176 LOVE INSURANCE 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. TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 177 "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 run- ning 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." 178 LOVE INSURANCE "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 un- burdened 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. TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 179 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. 180 LOVE INSURANCE "A steak," he muttered. "Well done. Mush- room 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." TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 181 "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 re- write Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, and do it right. But I never struck anything like this be- fore." "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. 182 LOVE INSURANCE 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 TWO BIRDS OF TASSAGE 183 column for to-morrow. It runs on the first page. As for the rest of the paper, suit your- selves." 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?" TWO BIRDS OF PASSAGE 185 "There you are," said Gonzale at last, stand- ing. "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 pene- 186 LOVE INSURANCE trate behind the beyond. Say nothing and let us eat. How are you coming with the mush- room 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!" CAPTER 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 de- mand 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 an- nouncement of it would be sufficient to blast Jephson's hopes for all time. Old Spencer Mey- rick, already inflamed by the episode of the elder brother, was not likely to take coolly the publica- tion 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. 187 188 LOVE INSURANCE 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; in- nocent 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 post- cards 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 TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 189 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 yes- terday. 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 lord- ship 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, bow- ing. "But you are at least clever enough to un- 1go LOVE INSURANCE derstand the futility of demanding financial re- dress 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 some- how. 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. TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 191 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 un- kindness 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 192 LOVE INSURANCE 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 him- self 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 sup- pers 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 ap- pealing 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. TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 193 "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 aft- ernoon interview. He must wait for Jephson's cable—perhaps that would give him an idea. 194 LOVE INSURANCE 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 dis- close 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—re- ward 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 de- TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 195 cided 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 men- tally berated Thacker and Jephson. They left him alone to grapple with wild problems, offer- ing 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. 196 LOVE INSURANCE 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 be- fore 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 in- effectiveness 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 discov- ered that you can not sue Lord Harrowby for breach of contract to marry you." "Why—why not?" she stammered. TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 197 "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 con- tinued 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. 198 LOVE INSURANCE 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 aban- don the suit—" She looked at him. Oh, the pathos of that baby stare 1 TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 199 "You are acting in this matter simply as Har- rowby'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. 200 LOVE INSURANCE "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. TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 201 "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." 202 LOVE INSURANCE "Damn!" thought Minot. And then he thought two more. "To put yourself out that our wedding may be a success!" Was this sarcasm, Minot won- dered. "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—kind- ness. I couldn't understand at first, but now— I wonder? You know, it's an old theory that as TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 203 soon as one has one's own affair of the heart ar- ranged, 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. Under- neath 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 court- 204 LOVE INSURANCE yard. 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 mar- ried." "Oh, yes, you have. I know all about it. There's no need to lie. The whole story is out, TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 205 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 teU—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. HurryT' 206 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Tr1mmer W1ll Appear 1n Place of H1s Unfortunate Fr1end, Lord Harrowby, and W1ll Make a Few WARM AND SIZZLING REMARKS. NO ADVANCE IN PRICES. Mr. Minot tossed the bill into the street. Into TEARS FROM THE GAIETY 207 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 de- scended into the hotel gardens for a stroll. Farther and farther he strayed down the shad- owy gravel paths, until only the faint far sug- gestion of music at his back recalled the hotel's lights and gaiety. It was a deserted land he pen- etrated; 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. 208 EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 209 Gabrielle Rose was made for the spotlight, and that being absent, moonlight served as well. Un- der its soft merciful rays she stood revealed— the beauty thousands of playgoers knew and wor- shiped. 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 -speak- ing 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 meet- ing is splendid. My train goes in an hour—and I wanted so very much to see you—once again." "You flatter me." 210 LOVE INSURANCE "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 ap- prehensions 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?" EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 211 "I don't know." "Don't know? How unkind—when it all de- pends 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 an- other cigar. Exit the Gaiety lady, laughing mer- rily. 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 Har- rowby's man, agitated, puffing. 512 LOVE INSURANCE "Been looking all about for you, sir," he an- nounced. "'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 Gon- zale, 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 Black- mail? 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 un- less I pay him ten thousand dollars before mid- night, 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 214 LOVE INSURANCE hospital cot ahead for mc. 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 even- ing 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 prom- ise 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 mo- ment I saw Cynthia Meyrick I realized that if EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 215 I couldn't marry her myself life would be an un- interesting 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 Gon- zale has a packet of love-letters written by Har- rowby in his salad days, which he proposes to 216 LOVE INSURANCE 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." "Urn—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 per- sonal 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 black- mailer." "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," com- mented 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. EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 217 O'Neill sat behind a desk, the encyclopedia be- fore him, seeking lively material for the mor- row's issue. Mr. Howe hammered at a type- writer. Both of the newspaper men looked up at the intrusion. "Ah, gentlemen," said O'Neill, coming for- ward. "What can I do for you?" "Who are you?" Minot asked. "What? Can it be? Is my name not a house- hold 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 mo- ment. 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 let- ters—and we'll get them or run you and your boss out of town in twenty-four hours—you raw little blackmailers!" EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 219 isfaction. 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 hol- low 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 un- derstand. 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 220 LOVE INSURANCE 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 mat- ter 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 pre- fers 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—" EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 221 "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 pro- prietor 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 every- where. 223 LOVE INSURANCE "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 sud- denly by the collar. "We're here for Lord Har- rowby's letters," he said.' His other hand began a rapid search of Manuel Gonzale's pockets. "Let me go, you thief," screamed the pro- prietor 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 224 LOVE INSURANCE came slowly toward his employer, like a cat stalk- ing 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 any- thing. 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 black- mailing stunts while we stay?" "Well—I shouldn't call them that—" "No blackmailing stunts?" EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 225 "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," stip- ulated Howe. "It is agreed," said Gonzale, smiling wanly. "The loss of those letters cost me a thousand dol- lars—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 226 LOVE INSURANCE 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 apol- ogized 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. EXIT A LADY, LAUGHINGLY 227 "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 LUeth!" "Board the Lilcth?" "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 MR. PADDOCK knew of a man on the water-front who had a gasoline launch to rent, and fortunately it happened to be in com- mission. 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 hur- riedly 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?" 228 "AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 229 "Come out on deck a minute," said Minot rapidly. Wall threw down his cards and fol- lowed. 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 kidnap- ing. 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 230 LOVE INSURANCE 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 gen- tlemen 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 'AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 231 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 re- volt . Then Minot turned, and saw a rowboat putting off from the pier. "Come on," he cried, and leaped on the shoul- ders of the aspirant to the title. Paddock and Wall followed. Despite his discouraged ap- pearance, 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 Har- rowby, 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 232 LOVE INSURANCE 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, utiliz- ing 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 min- utes 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 mat- ter 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. "AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 233 "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 im- postor, 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, every- body 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 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ma- jestic 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 go- ing to be a pretty party!" Suddenly the heavens blazed with lightning. The swell of the waters increased. Hastily Pad- dock backed the boat from the range of the Lileth's vision. "Trimmer must go soon," cried Minot. "AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 235 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 sec- onds 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 Pad- dock gloomily. "It falls on the umbrellas here, 236 LOVE INSURANCE 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 an- other long pause. "Put in closer to the Lileth," suggested Minot. Mr. Paddock fumbled about beneath the can- vas 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. "AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 237 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 238 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Jteaming 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 en- gine, and, hallooing madly, the three set out in pursuit. Not yet had the Lileth struck its gait, and in fifteen minutes they were alongside. Mar- tin Wall, beholding them from the deck, had a rather unexpected attack of pity, and stopped 'AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 239 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, rais- ing 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 240 LOVE INSURANCE 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 row- boat 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. AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 241 "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 him- self 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." 242 LOVE INSURANCE Paddock sped up the stairs to his room, which was on the second floor, and Minot turned to- ward the elevator. At that moment he saw ap- proaching 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 fol- lowed. In the tiny office of the hotel manager a bullet-headed man stood waiting. "My friend, Mr. Huntley, of the Secret Ser- vice," 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! 244 LOVE INSURANCE 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. 'AND ON THE SHIPS AT SEA" 245 "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—" Harrowhy 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. Everthing'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 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 Ben- nett, had he seen it, would have made a leading character in a novel. He was cheerful, was Har- rowby, 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. 247 248 LOVE INSURANCE "My dear chap, gay as—as—a robin," Har- rowby 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 morn- ing 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 JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 249 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. 250 LOVE INSURANCE "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 Manhat- tan Club. May I count on you?" "Surely," Minot smiled. "I'll be there, wear- ing our necklace." "My dear fellow—ah, I see you mean it pleas- antly. 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 for- get!" "Forget what?" "Your young heart is already ensnared, isn't it?" JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 251 "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— 252 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ap- pear 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, Trim- mer was out to call early this morning. Searched the ship from stem to stern. I rather think we JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 253 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 Col- lar 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. Brace'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 mys- tery 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 let- ters were in the hands of the man who had writ- ten them. The claimant to the title languished 254 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Lis- more 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 theat- rical star. Fifty costly necklaces—and only one neck!" "Tragic," smiled Minot. "Funny thing's happened," Paddock whis- pered. "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 jeal- ous. '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 re- minded him. "Well, I was, for that matter," said Mr. Pad- JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 257 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 relig- ious 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 dis- play 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. 258 LOVE INSURANCE 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 re- plied, "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 cyn- ically. 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 JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 259 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 26o LOVE INSURANCE to the table, visibly affected. Others pretended this sort of thing was an old story to them. A few of the more adventurous women bor- rowed 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 end- less 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 JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 261 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 neck- lace, please." "You forget," Minot objected, "that the neck- lace 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 morn- ing that should this necklace be found now—" JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 263 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 whis- pered 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 cyn- ical 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 1" "My name is Martin Wall," said that gentle- man stiffly. 264 LOVE INSURANCE "Ain't he got the lovely manners," said Hunt- ley, 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?" Cynthia and Minot watched togethei JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 265 "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. How- 266 LOVE INSURANCE ever, they could see the plebeian hand of Mr. Huntley held out to Lord Harrowby. iThey 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 JERSEY CITY INTERFERES 267 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 268 LOVE INSURANCE 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 dis- order. The round-faced valet was packing trunks against time, and his time-keeper, Mr. Bill Hunt- ley, 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 269 A BIT OF A BLOW 271 room leading into the hall. If you go in there, I go, too." Mr. Meyrick glared. Harrowby stood em- barrassed. "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, Har- rowby. 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 vaude- ville 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 mar- riage is off—for good!" 272 LOVE INSURANCE "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 A BIT OF A BLOW 273 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 matinee 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 Jeph- son! 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 2?4 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Col- lar 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 "drop- ping" 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 Mey- rick, and stood gazing helplessly into her eyes. "Cynthia—your father said—is it true?" "It's true, Allan." "You too wish the wedding—indefinitely post- poned?" "Father thinks it best—" "But you?" He came closer. "You, Cynthia?" . A BIT OF A BLOW 275 "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 writ- ten 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. 276 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Har- rowby brought from England?" "Of course not. Now, get out of the way—" "Are you a good judge of jewels, Mr. Hunt- ley?" A BIT OF A BLOW 277 "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 un- fortunate 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 ex- pression. He grunted again, and stepped to a near-by writing-desk, above which hung a powerful electric light. The others followed. Mr. Hunt- ley 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 A BIT OF A BLOW 279 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 dis- appeared 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 embar- rassed—but I never suspected him of this—the associations were so dear—really—" "It may not have been your father who du- plicated 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 un- der unusual circumstances. At least, this col- 280 LOVE INSURANCE lection 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 282 LOVE INSURANCE "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 stay- ing on to avert suspicion. We haven't any evi- dence 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 hap- pening so swiftly I'm at a loss to follow them. I am, old boy. First one obstacle and then an- other. You've been splendid, Minot, splendid. I want to thank you for all you have done. I thought to-night the wedding had gone glimmer- ing. And I'm fond of Miss Meyrick. Tre- mendously." "Don't thank me," Minot replied. "I'm not doing it for you—we both know that. I'm pro- tecting Jephson's money. In a few days, wed- ding-bells. And then me back to New York, 284 LOVE INSURANCE 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 re- peated 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. > A BIT OF A BLOW 285 Harrowby turned hopefully to 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." WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND 287 "More like it," said Trimmer. "Put the fire into it. You're not expecting a thrashing, you know. You're expecting the title and recogni- tion 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 "proposi- tion" shot up toward their great opportunity. In Lord Harrowby's suite that gentleman sat in considerable nervousness, awaiting the un- 288 LOVE INSURANCE desired 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 ex- ception. 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 lord- ship. "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 impecu- WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND 289 nious years," he went on, "this man has been denied his just heritage. We are here this morn- ing 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 evi- dence, I am sure—" "Yes, yes. Bring him in." Mr. Trimmer stepped to the door. He beck- oned. A very reluctant figure shuffled in. George's face was green with fright. His knees rattled together. He made, altogether, a ludi- crous 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. 290 LOVE INSURANCE "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 Har- rowby. "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 WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND 291 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?" 2$2 LOVE INSURANCE "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 Har- rowby 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. Pater.' H wii; Harr luesl nobl, ul 'c. - t. ex! q,, t- :, 294 LOVE INSURANCE cision, "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 Har- rowby—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 al- lowed 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. Nat- urally he feels very badly over all this." Minot winced. "Come, Cynthia," said Meyrick, moving to- ward 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 WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND 295 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 Washing- ton. 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 296 LOVE INSURANCE lobby below Mr. Minot met Jack Paddock. Pad- dock 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. Pad- dock the astounding events of the morning. That Sunday that had begun so startlingly pro- gressed 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." WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND 297 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. 298 LOVE INSURANCE "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!" 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 list- less 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 can- non 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 con- fronted him, wrung his heart, left him helpless, was swept away. He was like a man who, re- leased from prison, sees the sky, the green trees, the hills again. He loved! The moon was shin- ing! 301 302 LOVE INSURANCE 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, peer- ing 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 bell- boy. 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 inquir- ingly. "Do you mind—a little walk?" he asked. "Whereto?" "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 THE SHORTEST WAY HOME 303 courtyard to the avenue. From this bright thor- oughfare 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 rail- road 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 ar- row. 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 304 LOVE INSURANCE 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 foot- ing—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 "rub- bish!" 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 THE SHORTEST WAY HOME 305 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 be- cause 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 306 LOVE INSURANCE 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 pos- sibly 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 engage- ment 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. 308 LOVE INSURANCE "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. Con- versation languished. Then the ancient grave- yard, 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 THE SHORTEST WAY HOME 309 of sight in that gilded cage she smiled a twisted little smile. Mr. Minot beheld Mr. Trimmer and his "prop- osition" 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 call- ing 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, at- tractive 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. Prom- ised Thacker I'd look you up at once. Let's ad- journ 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 re- christened the Lileth." 312 LOVE INSURANCE "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 diz- zily. "Oh, no," he said firmly. "I don't be- lieve 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." 314 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Har- rowby. "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 as- sumed calm. "See here, you cringing cur—what does this mean?" "I thought he was dead," murmured poor Jen- kins in terror. "You'll think the same about yourself in a min- ute—and you'll be right," Trimmer predicted. "Come, come," said George Harrowby pacific- ally. "Sit down, Mr. Trimmer. Sit down and THE SHORTEST WAY HOME 313 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 go- ing. 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 be- lieve 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 Jen- kins, as one who could not lose sight of that fact. "Yes? And they gave you my letters and be- longings, eh? So you thought you'd pose as me?" "Yes, sir," confessed Jenkins humbly. Mr. Trimmer slid farther back into his chair. 316 LOVE INSURANCE "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 con- vinced me he was Lord Harrowby. It was be- tween jobs for me, and I had a bright idea. If I brought this guy down to the wedding, estab- lished him as the real lord, and raised Cain gen- erally, 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 sup- pose 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 fer- 318 LOVE INSURANCE 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—pro- gressive. 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. Har- rowby, 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—" 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 des- tination. Seeing Minot, he stopped suddenly. 321 322 LOVE INSURANCE "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 actu- ally helped Jenkins prove to me that he was Lord Harrowby. I was so anxious for him to do it— 328 LOVE INSURANCE 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," "A ROTTEN BAD FIT" 329 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 liveli- est little Americans you ever saw. Live in a lit- tle 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 uni- versity 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. Thcre'd be a riot. Wife would be startled out of her wits. Children would hate me. Be an outcast in my own family. Neigh- bors would turn up their noses when they went 330 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Chi- cago, "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 "A ROTTEN BAD FIT" 331 the title is yours. In the meantime, when you introduce me to your friends here, we'll just pre- tend I've taken them out already." Allan Harrowby got up and laid his hand af- fectionately on his brother's shoulder. "You're a brick, old boy," he said. "You al- ways 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 ex- plained to the dazed Allan. 332 LOVE INSURANCE "Oh—I'm beginning to see," said Allan slow- ly. "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 dupli- cate 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 for- got. I'm sure he forgot. That's the only view to take of it." "A ROTTEN BAD FIT" 333 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 LOVE INSURANCE 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 in- sured 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 con- fession to make. It's about that policy." He stopped. "The old family trouble, George. We're gamblers to the bone—all of us. Last Fri- day 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 'A ROTTEN BAD FIT" 335 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 responsi- bility for action fell. George Harrowby cheer- fully 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. 336 LOVE INSURANCE "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." "A ROTTEN BAD FIT" 337 "I'll bet you have," commented Minot. "Bet anything you like. You come from a bet- ting 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 pa- per and handed it back. "Can it be that Wilson was a fraud? I suggest the police, Mr. Harrow- by. 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 men- tioned 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 un- derstood that fully." "Nonsense," Minot cried. "You stole this boat "A ROTTEN BAD FIT" 339 "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 differ- ence 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 340 LOVE INSURANCE Wall had engaged, in order to get the Lady Eve- lyn 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. Jen- kins out of the way, good old George side-step- ping 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 con- tain 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 pic- turesque view of the palm-dotted courtyard below. Adjacent to this was a sun-room with a remov- able 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 341 MINOT GOES THROUGH FIRE 345 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 un- happily. "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 pre- pared two sets of repartee for my two custom- ers to use to-night" "Yes?" "I always make carbon copies to refer to my- self 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!" 346 LOVE INSURANCE "Good lord is meek and futile. So is damn. Put on your little rubber coat, my boy. I pre- dict 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 Repub- lican 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 bal- cony 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 348 LOVE INSURANCE "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 unhap- pily with his food. He had little to say. The at- tractive young lady he had taken in had already classified him as a bore. Most unjust of the at- tractive young lady. MINOT GOES THROUGH FIRE 351 Mrs. Brace'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 blush- ing 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 mur- mured faintly. It was noted afterward that Mrs. Bruce main- tained 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 delicous 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. MINOT GOES THROUGH FIRE 353 much bitter conversation at table began to break out. Minot hunted up the balcony and stood gaz- ing 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 part- ners?" 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. MINOT GOES THROUGH FIRE 355 "I think I do. The music has stopped. Har- rowby has the next dance—he'd hardly think of looking for me here." She was gone! Minot stood alone on the bal- cony. 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 nowa- days?" he demanded indignantly. Minot tried in vain to push by him. "Seen what those Lon- don 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 1" cried Minot wildly. "Good! I hope 356 LOVE INSURANCE 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 ho- tel. Then he noticed that from a second-floor window poured smoke and flame, and that the town fire department was wildly getting into ac- tion. 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 descend- ed 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 ly- ing 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 "Hope it's the right one" CHAPTER XX 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 360 "PLEASE KILL" 361 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 bet- ter 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 jew- elry store again—alone. But—there's a jinx aft- er 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 364 LOVE INSURANCE "• 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 boldy 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 million- aire'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, pom- pous, red-faced, a hard man to handle, as he * "PLEASE KILL" 365 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. Pro- testing, Spencer Meyrick followed. The two sat down. "I have something to show you," said Gon- zale 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: 366 LOVE INSURANCE Remarkable Fores1ght of Engl1sh Fortune Hunter Who Weds M1ss Meyr1ck To-Day Took Out a Pol1cy for Seventy-f1ve Thousand Pounds W1th Lloyds. Same to be Payable 1n Case the Beaut1ful He1ress 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 "PLEASE KILL" 369 1 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 Gon- zale. "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 370 LOVE INSURANCE 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 "PLEASE KILL" 371 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 in- criminate me. You little devil—" Manuel, frightened, leaped away. "We usually sleep until noon," went on O'Neill. "He counted on that. Enter the cat- bird. 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." 372 LOVE INSURANCE 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 dol- lars—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 with- drew. O'Neill and the millionaire followed to the street. "PLEASE KILL" 373 "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 374 LOVE INSURANCE 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 morn- ing'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." HIGH WORDS AT HIGH NOON 377 "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 some- what 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 mis- givings, he knocked. A voice boomed "Comel" 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 380 LOVE INSURANCE 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 Mey- rick'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." HIGH WORDS AT HIGH NOON 383 "Because that's your business—your mean little business," she said scornfully. "I know at last why you came to San Marco. I understand every- thing. 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 him- self! After all he had done—all he had sacri- ficed. 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 win- dow. 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. 386 LOVE INSURANCE "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 scorn- ful 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 de- fend 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, 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, metaphor- ically, beat their breasts in perplexity over the tidings that had come even as they craned their necks to catch the first glimpse of that dis- tinguished 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 388 "WELL, HARDLY EVER—" 391 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. Of- fered me a job any time I wanted it. Great "WELL, HARDLY EVER—" 393 "Well, while there's life there's still consider- able 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 be- "WELL, HARDLY EVER—" 395 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 entranc- ing 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 treat- ment. 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 "WELL, HARDLY EVER—" 397 "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 Jack- sonville! 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 dis- tance. "You shouldn't have made me do that!" cried 398 LOVE INSURANCE 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 "WELL, HARDLY EVER—" 399 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 for- gotten? 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 402 LOVE INSURANCE "Oh, Dick—don't let me change my mind again—ever—ever!" "Only over my dead body I" 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