called to Rachel, who was
edging in an affrighted manner toward the lower end of the hall and
the dining-room. "What is she doing?"

Rachel's face brightened. He was going to be amenable to reason.

"It's a farewell luncheon, sir. She simply can't be disturbed. I'll
tell her you were here."

"You don't need to tell her anything," said he, briskly. The sight of
those crates and boxes had made another man of him. "I'll announce
myself. She won't----"

"You'd better not!" cried Rachel, distractedly. "There are some men
here. They will throw you out of the apartment. They're big enough,
Mr.--Mr.----"

He grinned. His fingers took a new grip on the revolver.

"Napoleon wasn't as big as I am," he said, much to Rachel's distress.
It sounded very mad to her. "Size isn't everything."

"For Heaven's sake, sir, please don't----"

"They seem to be having a gay old time," said he, as a particularly
wild burst of laughter came from the dining-room. He hesitated. "Who
is out there?"

Rachel was cunning. "I don't know the names, sir. They're--they're
strangers to me."

At that instant the voice of Fairfax came to his ears, loudly
proclaiming a health to the invalid who was going to Reno. Harvey
stood there in the hall, listening to the toast. He heard it to the
end, and the applause that followed. If he were to accept the
diagnosis of the speaker, Nellie was repairing to Reno to be cured of
an affliction that had its inception seven years before, a common
malady, but not fatal if taken in time. The germ, or, more properly
speaking, the parasite, unlike most bacteria, possessed but two legs,
and so on and so forth.

The laughter was just dying away when Harvey--who recognised himself
as the pestiferous germ alluded to--strode into the room, followed by
the white-faced Rachel.

"Who was it, Rachel?" called out Nellie, from behind the enormous
centrepiece of roses which obstructed her view of the unwelcome
visitor.

The little man in the ulster piped up, shrilly:--

"She don't know my name, but I guess you do, if you'll think real
hard."

There were ten at the table, flushed with wine and the exertion of
hilarity. Twenty eyes were focussed on the queer, insignificant little
man in the doorway. If they had not been capable of focussing them on
anything a moment before, they acquired the power to do so now.

Nellie, staring blankly, arose. She wet her lips twice before
speaking.

"Who let you in here?" she cried, sh