gusts. Turning to the violinist, he said,
``It's an awful night; better remain here
until morning. You'll not find a cab; in
fact, I will not let you go while this
storm continues,'' and the old man
raised the window, thrusting his head
out for an instant. As he did so the icy
blast that came in settled any doubt in
the young man's mind and he concluded
to stop over night.

It was nearly two o'clock; Sanders
showed him to his room and then
returned down stairs to see that everything
was snug and secure. After changing
his heavy shoes for a pair of old slippers
and wrapping a dressing gown around
him, the old man stretched his legs
toward the fire and sipped his toddy.

``He isn't a bad sort for a violinist,''
mused the old man; ``if he were worth
a million, I believe I'd advise Wallace to
let him marry her. A fiddler! A million!
Sounds funny,'' and he laughed
shrilly.

He turned his head and his eyes
caught sight of Diotti's violin case resting
on the center table. He staggered