where it poised for a moment on the brink, then disappeared into the dark depths beneath. The servant, leaning half out of the window, breathlessly watched the paper’s progress with eyes and mouth wide open, and his ludicrously agonized expression drew a faint chuckle from the traveler as his taxi started down the street.

Some time later the traveler, refreshed by his bath, lay back in the luxuriously furnished dormitory of [Pg 4]the Riggs’ Turkish Bath and puffed contentedly at his cigar. He paid no attention to three be-sheeted men who were talking together as they lounged at one end of the room.

[Pg 4]

“Who was the pretty girl you were dancing with yesterday afternoon at the Shoreham, Jimmie?” questioned the eldest of the three men.

“Janet Fordyce.” Jimmie Painter’s voice was of the carrying kind, and as the name reached his ears the traveler sat bolt upright, but the men, engrossed in their conversation, failed to observe his attention. “A winner, isn’t she, Logan?” continued Jimmie complacently.

“Yes, trust you to pick ’em,” grumbled Logan, “and to cultivate them afterwards, too. Who is she?”

“Daughter of Calderon Fordyce, the Western importer of——”

“Opium—tainted money,” jeered his companion.

“What difference? Its buying qualities make it refined gold.”

“You weren’t the only one bowled over by the Fordyce girl,” remarked the youngest member of the group. “She made quite an impression on Chichester Barnard.”

“Nothing doing there, Cooper!” exclaimed Jimmie Painter skeptically. “Chichester’s not the kind to be attracted by a débutante; besides, he’s too gone on Marjorie Langdon.”

“Not so gone he doesn’t keep his weather eye out,” retorted Joe Calhoun-Cooper. “As far as Miss [Pg 5]Langdon’s concerned it’s attention without intention. She’s as poor as Job’s turkey.”

[Pg 5]

“I hear she’s crazy about Chichester,” volunteered Logan. “By Jove! if I was first favorite, I’d marry Miss Langdon and risk poverty.”

“Too Utopian,” commented Joe. “Better choose a golden ‘Bud’—they are the only kind worth plucking in Washington.”

“I agree with you,” put in Jimmie Painter. “Do you suppose old 

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