wings inquiringly--"Senor Roberto. It is his first public
appearance in this country, and we will endeavor to execute a
variation of the Argentine tango. Senor Roberto is a poor boy; he
begs you to applaud him in order that he may secure an engagement
and support his old father." She stooped laughingly to confer with
the orchestra leader, who had broken cover at her announcement.

Mr. Wharton was still talking. "That's my way of raising a son. I
taught Bob to drink when I drank, to smoke when I smoked, and all
that. My father raised me that way."

The opening strain of a Spanish dance floated out from the hidden
musicians, Mlle. Demorest whirled into view in the arms of a young
man in evening dress. She was still laughing, but her partner wore
a grave face, and his eyes were lowered; he followed the intricate
movements of the dance with some difficulty. To Lorelei he
appeared disappointingly amateurish. Then a ripple of merriment,
growing into a guffaw, advised her that something out of the
ordinary was occurring.

"The--scoundrel!" Hannibal Wharton cried.

Merkle observed dryly: "He's won your thousand. I withdraw what I
said about him; it requires a gigantic intelligence to outwit
you." To Lorelei he added: "This will be considered a great joke
on Broadway."

"That is Mr. Wharton's son?"

"It is--and the most dissipated lump of arrogance in New York."