Lewis, looking upon Nelton, suddenly remembered a little room in the Sul
Americano at Bahia. He felt sure that when Nelton opened his mouth it
would be to say, "Will you be wearing the white flannels to-night, sir,
or the dinner-jacket?"

By lunch-time Leighton's high spirits were on the decline, by four
o'clock they had struck bottom. He kept walking to the windows, only to
turn his back quickly on what he saw. At last he said:

"D'you know what a 'hundred to one shot' is?"

"No, sir," said Lewis.

"Well," said Leighton, "watch me play one." He sat down, wrote a hurried
note, and sent it out by Nelton. "The chances, my boy, are one hundred
to one that the lady's out of town."

When Nelton came back with an answer, Leighton scarcely stopped to open
it.

"Come on, boy," he called, and was off. By the time Lewis reached the
street, his father was stepping into a cab. Lewis scrambled after him.

"Doesn't seem proper, Dad, to rush through a graveyard this way."

"Graveyard? It isn't a graveyard any more. I'll prove it to you in a
minute."

It was more than a minute before they pulled up at a house that seemed