his jaws were still set like stone.

"No scandal, John," he exclaimed. "No scandal--whatever happens--
on account of my girls."

"You're worse hit than you'll admit," Merkle said, gently.

"No, no. I'm all right. I'm not even suffering." His pallor belied
his words, but he went on with even better self-control than
Merkle's: "There's paper and ink yonder. Take these notes, will
you? Things are in bad shape on the Street, and--you never can
tell what may happen, so we'd better play safe."

Merkle seated himself and took the wounded man's dictation as best
he could; but his hand shook badly.

From down the hall came hysterical meanings as Lilas Lynn
struggled in a drugged and drunken breakdown.

The moments dragged interminably.

Several months before, Bob Wharton during one of his hilarious
moments had conceived the brilliant notion of hiring a four-
wheeler and driving a convivial party of friends from place to
place. The success of his exploit had been so gratifying that he
had repeated the performance, but he was in a far different mood
now as he left the Elegancia. The shock of Lorelei's announcement,
the sight of his stricken friend, had sobered him considerably,
yet he was not himself by any means. At one moment he saw and
reasoned clearly, at the next his intoxication benumbed his senses