York. Miss Marsh and I are just going out
to get a bite of lunch. Won't you join us?"

The young man stammered his thanks.

"With pleasure--I----"

Paula went out with Mr. Ricaby close behind. As Tod followed he again
whistled to himself significantly:

"Well, I'm d----d! What will Jimmy say to this?"

CHAPTER V.

The cablegram from Paris had effected a startling transformation in
Jimmy Marsh. He was a changed man. No longer the cringing, furtive-eyed
bankrupt, ever dodging his creditors, he arose masterfully to the new
situation created by the sudden turn in his fortunes. From the hopeless
depths of moral and financial ruin the news of his brother's death
suddenly raised him to the dollar-marked heights of social prestige and
great wealth. At last his long years of waiting were rewarded. John was
dead! He was the possessor of millions! All the sweets and power which
gold can buy were now his! It seemed too good to be true, and he pinched
himself to make sure that it was not all a dream. The excitement and
nervous strain proved more than he could bear. Locked in his own room he
laughed hysterically and wept aloud--tears of gratitude and joy. His
brother was dead! Now, for the first time he could begin to live. He was
only fifty. He might still enjoy twenty years more.

The news rushed through the town like a Kansas cyclone. It was the one
topic of conversation in clubs, brokers' offices, theatre lobbies,
barrooms, and hotel corridors. Jimmy Marsh a millionaire, a power in
Wall Street, a personage to be reckoned with! It sounded funny, yet
there it was. Men suddenly remembered that Jimmy was not such a bad sort
after all, and all day long Mrs. Marsh was kept busy at the telephone
answering calls from officious acquaintances who suddenly became very
friendly and interested.

Recognizing the propriety of not exhibiting too much joy in public and
having little sense of proportion, Jimmy went to the other extreme in
his anxiety to observe the conventions. He rushed into violent mourning,
and, not content with attiring himself and wife in sombre hue, even to
the ridiculous extent of having black borders on his handkerchiefs which
he used conspicuously on every possible occasion, he gave peremptory
orders that everyone in his household, his chauffeur, his footman, his
cook and maids should all be decked in crape. The blinds of the West
Seventy-second Street home were tightly drawn and the servants
instructed