t, what was
he to do?

He recalled that Miss Sherwood had said that she and he would have their
talk that morning. He pulled his watch from under his pillow. It was
past nine o'clock. He looked about him for clothes, but saw only a
bathrobe. Then he remembered Judkins carrying off his rain-soaked
garments, with "Ring for me when you wake up, sir."

Larry found an electric bell button dangling over the top of his bed by
a silken cord. He pushed the button and waited. Within two minutes the
door opened, and Judkins entered, laden with fresh garments.

"Good-morning, sir," said Judkins. "Your own clothes, and some shirts
and other things I've borrowed from Mr. Dick. How will you have your
bath, sir--hot or cold?"

"Cold," said the bewildered Larry.

Judkins disappeared into the great white-tiled bathroom, there was the
rush of splashing water for a few moments, then silence, and Judkins
reappeared.

"Your bath is ready, sir. I've laid out some of Mr. Dick's razors. How
soon shall I bring you in your breakfast?"

"In about twenty minutes," said Larry.

Exactly twenty minutes later Judkins carried in a tray, and set it on
a table beside a window looking down into Park Avenue. "Miss Sherwood
asked me to tell you she would see you in the library at ten o'clock,
sir--where she saw you last night," said Judkins, and noiselessly was
gone.

Freshly shaven, tingling from his bath, with a sense of being garbed
flawlessly, though in garments partly alien, Larry addressed himself
to the breakfast of grapefruit, omelette, toast and coffee, served on
Sevres china with covers of old silver. In his more prosperous eras
Larry had enjoyed the best private service that the best hotels in New
York had to sell; but their best had been coarse and slovenly compared
to this. He would eat for a minute or two--then get up and look at his
carefully dressed self in the full-length mirror--then gaze from his
high, exclusive window down into Park Avenue with its stream of cars
comfortably carrying their occupants toward ten o'clock jobs in Wall
or Broad Streets--and then he would return to his breakfast. This was
amazing--bewildering!

He was toward the end of his omelette when a knock sounded at his door.
Thinking Judkins had returned, he called, "Come in"; but instead of
Judkins the opening door admitted the belligerent young man in rumpled
evening clothes of the previous night. Now he wore a silk dressing-gown
of a flamboyant peacock b