leave a note for her explaining his sudden departure. When he reached
Santos, three weeks later, it didn't seem worth while to cable.

As Lewis stepped out of the station at San Paulo, he felt himself in a
dream. He crossed the street into the public gardens and looked back. He
had never seen a station like that. It was beautiful. It had the spirit
of a cathedral raised by some pagan as a shrine to the commercial age.
Had the railroad bred a dreamer?

Several motor-cars for hire lined the curb. Lewis stepped up to one of
the drivers.

"How did they come to build that?" he asked in Portuguese, with a nod
toward the station.

The driver shrugged his shoulders.

"Too much money," he said. "The charter limits them to twenty-five per
cent, profits. They had such a surplus, they told the architect he could
go as high as he liked. He went pretty high." The driver winked at his
own joke, but did not smile.

"I want you by the hour," said Lewis. "Do you know Mrs. Leighton's
house--Street of the Consolation?"

The driver shook his head.

"There's no such house," he said.

"Well, you know the Street of the Consolation? Drive there. Drive