name as he did when he undertook to spell Elisha. Well, sir, I'm much
obliged to you. Good day."

The Central Club is a ponderous institution occupying a becomingly
gorgeous building on the Avenue. The captain found his way to its door
without much trouble. A brass-buttoned attendant answered his ring and
superciliously inquired his business. Captain Elisha, not being greatly
in awe of either buttons or brief authority, calmly hailed the attendant
as "Gen'ral" and informed him that he was there to see Mr. Sylvester, if
the latter was "on deck anywheres."

"Tell him it's Cap'n Warren, Major," he added cheerfully; "he's
expectin' me."

The attendant brusquely ushered the visitor into a leather-upholstered
reception room and left him. The captain amused himself by looking at
the prints and framed letters and autographs on the walls. Then a round,
red, pleasant-faced man entered.

"Pardon me," he said, "is this Captain Warren?"

"Yes, sir," was the reply. "That's my name. This is Mr. Sylvester, ain't
it? Glad to know you, sir."

"Thanks. Sorry to have made you travel way up here, Captain. I waited
until twelve-thirty, but as you didn't come then, I gave you up. Hope I
haven't inconvenienced you."

"No, no. Not a mite. Might just as well be here as anywhere. Don't think
another thing about it."