"I thought so," he nodded. "That medical dub carries a cane on his
professional rounds! Like as not he wears a flowing tie, a monocle and
pink socks."

The man approached and raised his hat, smiling urbanely. It was Baron
Tregar.

Philip leaped to his feet, reddening.

"Excellency!" he stammered.

"Pray be seated!" exclaimed the Baron with sympathy. "Such a
disturbing experience as you have had affords one privileges."

"Permit me," said Philip uncomfortably to Diane, "to present my chief,
Baron Tregar. Excellency, Miss Westfall, to whom I am eternally
indebted." And Philip's eyes sparkled with laughter as he uttered her
name.

There was an old world courtliness in the Baron's bow and murmured
salutation.

"Ah," said he with gallant regret, "Fate, Miss Westfall, has never seen
fit to temper misfortune so pleasantly for me. Poynter, you have been
exceedingly fortunate."

Diane laughed softly. It was hers to triumph now.

"_Mr. Poynter_," she said with relish, flashing a sidelong glance at