$19,607.84 a day, a clear profit of $16,806.72. That's pretty
good--yes, too good. I wonder if the bank couldn't oblige me by
not charging interest."

The figures kept adding and subtracting themselves as he dozed
off, and once during the night he dreamed that Swearengen Jones
had sentenced him to eat a million dollars' worth of game and
salad at the French restaurant. He awoke with the consciousness
that he had cried aloud, "I can do it, but a year is not very long
in an affair of this kind."

It was nine o'clock when Brewster finally rose, and after his tub
he felt ready to cope with any problem, even a substantial
breakfast. A message had come to him from Mr. Grant of Grant &
Ripley, announcing the receipt of important dispatches from
Montana, and asking him to luncheon at one. He had time to spare,
and as Margaret and Mrs. Gray had gone out, he telephoned Ellis to
take his horse to the entrance to the park at once. The crisp
autumn air was perfect for his ride, and Brewster found a number
of smart people already riding and driving in the park. His horse
was keen for a canter and he had reached the obelisk before he
drew rein. As he was about to cross the carriage road he was
nearly run down by Miss Drew in her new French automobile.

"I beg your pardon," she cried. "You're the third person I've run
into, so you see I'm not discriminating against you."

"I should be flattered even to be run down by you."

"Very well, then, look out." And she started the machine as if to