suite is our pet and our pride. There's nothing to beat it in the
whole Southwest."

"It is very nice. May I inquire the rate?"

"Twenty-five dollars a day."

"Quite reasonable." Mr. Gray beamed his satisfaction.

"It is the only suite we have left. We've put beds in the parlors
of the others, and frequently we have to double up our guests.
This oil excitement is a blessing to us poor innkeepers. I presume
it's oil that brings you here?"

Gray met the speaker's interrogatory gaze with a negative shake of
the head and a smile peculiarly noncommittal. "No," he declared.
"I'm not in the oil business and I have no money to invest in it.
I don't even represent a syndicate of Eastern capitalists. On the
contrary, I am a penniless adventurer whom chance alone has cast
upon your hospitable grand staircase." These words were spoken
with a suggestion of mock modesty that had precisely the
effect of a deliberate wink, and Mr. Haviland smiled and nodded
his complete comprehension.

"I get you," said he. "And you're right. The lease hounds would
devil you to death if you gave them a chance. Now then, if there's
any way in which I can be of service--"

"There is." Gray's tone was at once businesslike. "Please give me
the names of your leading bankers. I mean the strongest and the