CHAPTER II

A SHOCK FOR MR. BREWSTER


Mr. Daniel Brewster sat in his luxurious suite at the Cosmopolis,
smoking one of his admirable cigars and chatting with his old
friend, Professor Binstead. A stranger who had only encountered Mr.
Brewster in the lobby of the hotel would have been surprised at the
appearance of his sitting-room, for it had none of the rugged
simplicity which was the keynote of its owner's personal appearance.
Daniel Brewster was a man with a hobby, He was what Parker, his
valet, termed a connoozer. His educated taste in Art was one of the
things which went to make the Cosmopolis different from and superior
to other New York hotels. He had personally selected the tapestries
in the dining-room and the various paintings throughout the
building. And in his private capacity he was an enthusiastic
collector of things which Professor Binstead, whose tastes lay in
the same direction, would have stolen without a twinge of conscience
if he could have got the chance.

The professor, a small man of middle age who wore tortoiseshell-
rimmed spectacles, flitted covetously about the room, inspecting its
treasures with a glistening eye. In a corner, Parker, a grave, lean
individual, bent over the chafing-dish, in which he was preparing
for his employer and his guest their simple lunch.

"Brewster," said Professor Binstead, pausing at the mantelpiece.