in the eyes of the world drew back, lifting his hat; the automobile
started forward; the party called, "Good night." The woman's voice rose
clear--so that the spectators might easily understand--"Remember, Mr.
Lagrange--I shall expect you Thursday--day after to-morrow."

As Conrad Lagrange came up the hotel steps, the eyes of all were upon him;
but he--apparently unconscious of the company--went straight to the
artist; where, without a word, he dropped into the vacant chair by the
young man's side, and began thoughtfully refilling his brier pipe.
Flipping the match over the veranda railing, and expelling a prodigious
cloud of smoke, the novelist said grimly, "And there--my fellow artist--go
your masters. I trust you observed them with proper reverence. I would
have introduced you, but I do not like to take the initiative in such
outrages. That will come soon enough. The young should be permitted to
enjoy their freedom while they may."

Aaron King laughed. "Thank you for your consideration," he returned, "but
I do not think I am in any immediate danger."

"Which"--the other retorted dryly--"betrays either innocence, caution, or
an unusual understanding of life. I am not, now, prepared to say whether
you know too much or too little."

"I confess to a degree of curiosity," said the artist. "I traveled in the
same Pullman with three of the party. May I ask the names of your
friends?"

The other answered in his bitterest vein; "I have no friends, Mr. King--I
have only admirers. As for their names"--he continued--"there is no reason
why I should withhold either who they are or what they are. Besides, I