cally. But Hupp's glance was
over his head. Involuntarily Jock turned to follow the direction
of his eyes.

"Busy?" said a voice from the doorway.

"Come in, Dutch! Come in!" boomed Hupp.

The man who entered was of the sort that the boldest might well
hesitate to address as "Dutch"--a tall, slim, elegant figure,
Van-dyked, bronzed.

"McChesney, this is Von Herman, head of our art department."

Their hands met in a brief clasp. Von Herman's thoughts were
evidently elsewhere.

"Just wanted to tell you that that cussed model's skipped out.
Gone with a show. Just when I had the whole series blocked out in
my mind. He was a wonder. No brains, but a marvel for looks and
style. These people want real stuff. Don't know how I'm going to
give it to them now."

Hupp sat up. "Got to!" he snapped. "Campaign's late, as it is.
Can't you get an ordinary man model and fake the Greek god
beauty?"

"Yes--but it'll look faked. If I could lay my hands on a chap who
could wear clothes as if they belonged to him--"

Hupp rose. "Here's your man," he cried, with a snap of his
fingers. "Clothes! Look at him. He invented 'em. Why, you could
photograph him and he'd look like a drawing."

Von Herman turned, surprised, incredulous, hopeful, his artist eye
brightening at the ease and grace and modishness of the smart,
well-knit figure before him.

"Me!" exploded Jock, his face suffused with a dull, painful red.
"Me! Pose! For a clothing ad!"

"Well," Hupp reminded him, "you said you'd do anything."

Jock McChesney glared belligerently. Hupp returned the stare with
a faint gleam of amusement shining behind the absurd glasses. The
amused look changed to surprise as he beheld the glare in Jock's
eyes fading. For even as he glared there had come a warning to
Jock--a warning sent just in time from that wireless station
located in his subconscious mind. A vivid face, full of pride, and
hope, and encouragement flashed before him.

"Jock," it said, "don't let 'em buffalo you. They'll try it. If
they give you a broom and tell you to sweep down the back
stairs--"

Jock was smiling his charming, boyish smile.

"Lead me to your north light," he laughed at Von Herman. "Got any
Robert W. Chambers's heroines tucked away there?"

Hupp's broad hand came down on his shoulder with a thwack. "That's
the spirit, McChesney! That's the--" He stopped, abruptly. "Say,
are you related to Mrs. Emma McChesney, of the Featherloom Skirt
Company?"

"Sl