Jimmy, reading in a Chicago paper that if Sir James Willoughby Pitt,
baronet, would call upon Messrs. Snell, Hazlewood, and Delane,
solicitors, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, he would hear of
something to his advantage, had called and heard something very much
to his advantage.

Wherefore we find him, on this night of July, supping in lonely
magnificence at the Savoy, and feeling at the moment far less
conscious of the magnificence than of the loneliness.

Watching the crowd with a jaundiced eye, Jimmy had found his attention
attracted chiefly by a party of three a few tables away. The party
consisted of a pretty girl, a lady of middle age and stately demeanor,
plainly her mother, and a light-haired, weedy young man of about
twenty. It had been the almost incessant prattle of this youth and the
peculiarly high-pitched, gurgling laugh which shot from him at short
intervals which had drawn Jimmy's notice upon them. And it was the
curious cessation of both prattle and laugh which now made him look
again in their direction.

The young man faced Jimmy; and Jimmy, looking at him, could see that
all was not well with him. He was pale. He talked at random. A slight
perspiration was noticeable on his forehead.

Jimmy caught his eye. There was a hunted look in it.

Given the time and the place, there were only two things which could
have caused that look. Either the light-haired young man had seen a
ghost, or he had suddenly realized that he had not enough money to pay
the check.