"Put your arm on my shoulder -- so," said Gethryn, and the two men
raised her gently. Once in the cab, she sank back, looking limp and
white. Gethryn turned sharply to the other man.

"Shall I go?"

"Rather," replied the little stranger, pleasantly.

Opening his coat in haste, he produced a square of pasteboard. "My
card," he said, offering one to Gethryn, who bowed and fumbled in his
pockets. As usual, his card-case was in another coat.

"I'm sorry I have none," he said at length, "but my name is
Reginald Gethryn, and I shall give myself the pleasure of calling to
thank you for -- "

"For nothing," laughed the other, "excepting for the sketch, which
you may have when you come to see me."

"Thanks, and au revoir," glancing at the card. "Au revoir, Mr
Bulfinch."

He was giving the signal to the cabby when his new acquaintance
stopped him.

"You're quite sure -- you -- er -- don't know any newspapermen?"

"Quite."