hen the
novelists besieged him, he gave full play to his imagination. One, he
said, sought out his apartments in an aeroplane.

"Say, Professor," he finished, "we're in the same boat. Both hiding from
writers. A fellow that's spent his life selling neckties--well, he can't
exactly appreciate our situation. There's what you might call a bond
between you and me. D'ye know, I felt drawn to you, just after I fired
that first shot. That's why I didn't blaze away again. We're going to be
great friends--I can read it in the stars."

He took the older man's hand feelingly, shook it, and walked away,
casting a covert glance of triumph at Mr. Magee.

The face of the holder of the Crandall Chair of Comparative Literature
was a study. He looked first at one young man, then at the other. Again
he applied the handkerchief to his shining head.

"All this is very odd," he said thoughtfully. "A man of
sixty-two--particularly one who has long lived in the uninspired circle
surrounding a university--has not the quick wit of youth. I'm afraid I
don't--but no matter. It's very odd, though."

He permitted Mr. Magee to escort him into the hall, and to direct his
search for a bed that should serve him through the scant remainder of
the night. Overcoats and rugs were pressed into service as cover. Mr.
Bland blithely assisted.

"If I see any newspaper reporters," he assured the professor on parting,
"I'll damage more than their derbies."

"Thank you," replied the old man heartily. "You are very kind. To-morrow
we shall become better acquainted. Good night."

The two young men came out and stood in the hallway. Mr. Magee spoke in
a low tone.

"Forgive me," he said, "for stealing your Arabella."

"Take her and welcome," said Bland. "She was beginning to bore me,
anyhow. And I'm not in your class as an actor." He came close to Magee.
In the dim light that streamed out from number seven the latter saw the
look on his face, and knew that, underneath all, this was a very much
worried young man.

"For God's sake," cried Bland, "tell me who you are and what you're
doing here. In three words--tell me."

"If I did," Mr. Magee replied, "you wouldn't believe me. Let such minor
matters as the truth wait over till to-morrow."

"Well, anyhow," Bland said, his foot on the top step, "we are sure of
one thing--we don't trust each other. I've got one parting word for you.
Don't try to come down-stairs to-night. I've got a gun, and I ain't
afraid t