uestions asked, bo."

They happened at that moment to be nearing the immaculate white-gloved
doorman who stands ward over the entrance to the Alexandria. Johnny
looked at him, saw what exclusive hostelry was named upon his cap band,
and stopped. "You can go to your joint where they don't ask
questions," he said somewhat loftily to Bland. "I'll stop here where
they don't have to."

Bland gasped, but Johnny was already turning in past the immaculate
white-gloved one who bowed as Johnny brushed him by. Bland had only
time enough to mutter, "I'll wait here till you register," before
Johnny disappeared into the subdued elegance where Bland would not
venture. "Till they throw yuh out, you boob," Bland amended his
parting sentence. "Stoppin' at the Alexandria--hnm!"

Johnny, secure in his fresh cleanness and his ignorance of the
traditions of the place, strode through the onyx-pillared lobby peopled
with well-fed, modish human beings who conversed in modulated voices or
bustled in and out, engrossed with affairs which might or might not be
of national importance. At the desk a perfectly groomed, worldly wise
aristocrat proffered a pen well inked and gave Johnny what Bland would
have termed the double O.

Before he had finished pressing blotter upon "John Ivan Jewel, Tucson,
Arizona", his brain had registered certain details and his smile had
attained a certain quality of deference.

"We are glad to have you with us, Mr. Jewel. Ah--a room and bath, say
on the sixth floor? Ah--did you have a good flight, Mr. Jewel?"

Oh, the adaptability of American youth! "Made it in seven hours
continuous flight," Johnny informed him carelessly. "Nothing to it.
Yes, the sixth floor will be all right. Didn't bring any
baggage--didn't want to load the plane down."

And that clerk, to whom baggageless guests are ever objects of
suspicion, smiled understandingly and called his favorite boy, and when
Johnny's back was turned, immediately whispered the news that that
Arizona flyer who had been so much in the public eye lately, was a
guest of the hotel, having flown over in five hours.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

FATE MEETS JOHNNY SMILING

Johnny inspected his room and bath on the sixth floor and straightway
began to worry about the bill. The shaded reading lamp by the bed
impressed him mightily, as did the smoking set on its own little
mahogany stand, and the coat-hangers in the closet. Johnny was
accustomed to stopping in ho