Why, I can hear the ice chinking in the shaker!"

The door opened--to admit only Morse, however. Felixstowe's face
fell. The newcomer was attired in dinner clothes, which accorded
fairly well with the tenets of eastern civilisation except that his
jacket was unusually long and his black tie of the flowing
description.

"Mr. Pratt has an excellent chef here," he announced, "but I thought
that as you two gentlemen are strangers in New York, you would
probably like to sample one of the best restaurants. I have ordered
dinner at the Waldorf. It is not so exclusive as some of the other
places, but I feel sure that you will find it amusing."

"Is the bird's-nesting good there?" Felixstowe enquired anxiously.

"Bird's-nesting? I don't quite get you," Morse replied, politely
puzzled.

"The fluff," his questioner explained, "the skirts,--the little ladies
who help to make the world a cheerful and a joyous place."

Mr. Morse proved that behind his severe expression and depressing
spectacles he was only human. He smiled.

"The Waldorf is, I believe, very largely patronised by New York
ladies," he said. "I am afraid that in that respect I am not a very
efficient cicerone. I shall be able to introduce you, however, to
others who may be able to atone for my deficiency in that direction."

Morse was as good as his word. He had a plentiful acquaintance, and
the anxiety for news concerning Mr. Samuel Pratt brought visitors
continually to his table. His answer to one was practically his answer
to all.

"Just fine," he replied to an elderly stockbroker who questioned him
rather closely. "He is just now back in the Adirondacks, having the
time of his life, I guess. Going to bring home a great collection of
heads and finish up with a fortnight at the salmon--Why, yes, Mr.
Kindacott," he went on, a little doubtfully, "I could get a little
note through, if you particularly wished it, but you know what Mr.
Pratt's orders were--no business except in a matter of great urgency.
I am dealing with most everything from Riverside Drive."

The stockbroker passed on. Felixstowe glanced at his _vis-a-vis_ with
admiration.

"I should never have guessed from the look of you that you could tell
'em like that," he remarked.

Morse smiled deprecatingly.

"It is not my custom," he admitted, "to depart from the truth, but in
a business life out here you have to put scruples behind you. If they
knew down in Wall Street that Mr. Samuel was as il