adowy world beyond came a sound, faint as yet and far
away, but a sound there was no mistaking--the dismal tooting of an
automobile horn.

"'Eavens an' earth!" exclaimed Mr. Brimberly, and crossing to the window
he peered out. Once again the horn was heard, but very much nearer now,
and louder, whereupon Mr. Brimberly turned, almost hastily, and his
visitor rose hurriedly.

"It's very annoying, Mr. Stevens," said he, "but can I trouble you
to--to step--er--down--stairs--_with_ the glasses? It's 'ighly
mortifying, but may I ask you to--er--step a little lively, Mr.
Stevens?"

Without a word, Mr. Stevens caught up the tray from the piano and glided
away on his toe-points; whereupon Mr. Brimberly (being alone) became
astonishingly agile and nimble all at once, diving down to straighten a
rug here and there, rearranging chairs and tables; he even opened the
window and hurled two half-smoked cigars far out into the night; and his
eye was as calm, his brow as placid, his cheek as rosy as ever, only his
whiskers--those snowy, telltale whiskers, quivered spasmodically, very
much as though endeavouring to do the manifestly impossible and flutter
away with Mr. Brimberly altogether; yes, it was all in his whiskers.

Thus did Mr. Brimberly bustle softly to and fro until he paused, all at
once, arrested by the sound of a slow, firm step near by. Then Mr.
Brimberly coughed, smoothed his winglike whiskers, and--pulled down his
waistcoat for the third time. And lo! even as he did so, the door
opened, and the hero of this history stood upon the threshold.

CHAPTER II

OF A MOURNFUL MILLIONAIRE WHO LACKED AN OBJECT

Geoffrey Ravenslee was tall and pale and very languid, so languid indeed
that the automobile coat he bore across his arm slipped to the floor ere
Mr. Brimberly could take it, after which he shed his cap and goggles and
dropped them, drew off his gauntlets and dropped them and, crossing to
his favourite lounge chair, dropped himself into it, and lay there
staring into the fire.

"Ah, Brimberly," he sighed gently, "making a night of it?"

"Why, sir," bowed his butler, "indeed, sir--to tell the truth, sir--"

"You needn't, Brimberly. Excellent cigars you smoke--judging from the
smell. May I have one?"

"Sir," said Brimberly, his whiskers slightly agitated, "cigars, sir?"

"In the cabinet, I think," and Mr. Ravenslee motioned feebly with one
white hand towards the tall, carved cabinet in an adjacent corner.