effects by the use of a brilliant afghan, and by much
raising and lowering of the light of the reading-lamp.

He was a fine mimic. He became by turns the star, the leading lady, the
comedian, and the "heavy" of the big play. It was only when he had
stopped for a moment's rest, and Doris demanded a description of the
leading lady's gowns, now represented by the afghan, that his ingenuity
failed.

"They're so beautiful that most people think I made them," he said,
serenely. "But I didn't, really, so I can't give you any details, except
that they're very close-fitting around the feet."

He was folding up the afghan as he spoke, and he stopped in the act,
leaving one end dangling on the floor. From the street below the sound
of a whistle came up to him, sharp and penetrating, repeating over and
over the same musical phrase, the opening notes of the Fifth Symphony.
At first he thought the notes were whistled by some casual passer-by.
Then, glancing at the girl's face, he knew better. The sharp, recurrent
phrase was a signal.

He finished folding the afghan, and carefully replaced it on the divan
from which he had borrowed it. As he did so, he prattled on. He had
suddenly decided not to hear that signal. Doris, sitting transfixed and
staring at him, slowly became convinced that he had not heard it.

He glanced at his watch.

"A shocking hour!" he ejaculated. "Ten o'clock. If I go now, may I come
back for breakfast?"

"You may not." She made an effort to speak lightly.

"To take you to luncheon, then, at one?"

"No, please."

He shook his head at her.

"This is not the atmosphere of hospitality I am used to, but I shall
come anyway. I'll be here at one. In the meantime, I suddenly realize
that we are not using all of our opportunities. We must change that."

He looked around as he spoke, and, finding what he sought, picked it up.
It was a small scarf, a narrow bit of Roman silk carrying a vivid
stripe. He held this before her.

"Something may happen some day, and you may want me in a hurry," he
said. "I have observed with regret that you have no telephone in this
room, but we can get on without one. My mirror reflects your window, you
know," he added a little self-consciously. "If you need me, hang up this
scarf. Just drape it over this big window-catch. If I ever see it, I'll
come prancing across the square like a knight to your rescue."

"Thank you."

She gave him her hand and the enigmatic smile that alwa