"All right," said Madison, rising and moving to the door. "I'm going
now, then--guess you understand. See you in the morning for the final
touches. Tell Mr. Higgins I'm waiting outside for him to drive me home."
He raised his voice. "Good afternoon, Miss Vail," he said, and stepped
out onto the lawn.




--VIII--

IN WHICH THE BAIT IS NIBBLED


There was a group around the Flopper on the Portland platform beside the
Bar Harbor express; some wore pitying expressions, others smiled a
little tolerantly--Pale Face Harry, from the circle, sneered openly.

"Nutty!" he coughed, and touched his forehead. "Nothing doing in the
upper story--some one ought to look after him."

The Flopper, a crippled thing on the ground, fixed Pale Face Harry with
a pointed forefinger.

"Youse don't look like you had many weeps to spare for anybody but
yerself--yer fallin' to pieces," said the Flopper. "I didn't ask you nor
any of youse to butt in--I was talkin' to dis lady here"--he motioned
toward a young woman in a wheeled, invalid chair, who, between a trained
nurse on one side and a gentleman on the other, was regarding him with a