"Never mind the details," Landor prevented hurriedly. The haze had
cleared somewhat, and he observed his taciturn companion appreciatively.
"I left Mary up with Jim Burton's wife, and I think she can be trusted
to attend to such little matters."

Chantry smoked on without comment, but his restless black eyes were
observing the other shrewdly. Not without result had the two men known
each other these five years.

"It's a great convenience, this having women in the family," commented
Landor impersonally. "It's better than a daily paper, any time." Again
the deliberate, appreciate look. "You haven't decided yet to prove the
fact for yourself, have you?"

Still Chantry smoked in silence, waiting. The confidence that had
brought the other to him was very near now, almost apparent. Only too
well he knew the signs--the good-natured satire that ill concealed a
tolerance broad as the earth, the flow of trivialities that cleared the
way later of non-essentials. In silence he waited; and, as he had known
the moment that big figure appeared in the doorway, it came.

Deliberately Landor removed the stogie from his lips, as deliberately
flicked off the loose ash onto the floor at his side, inspected the
burning tuck critically.

"Supposing," he introduced baldly, "a fellow--an old fellow like
myself," he corrected precisely, "was to be going about his business as
an old fellow should, in a two-seated surrey with canvas curtains such
as you've seen me drive sometimes." The speaker paused a second to clear
his throat. "Supposing this old fellow was just riding through the