he one great painting
against the farther wall. There was a fire-place, wide and deep and
rock-bound. And yonder, a dull gleam as of ebony, a grand piano.
Leather chairs, all elegant, soft, luxurious.

She would leave them here, she said, smiling, and see if there was
anything left to eat. And while they marveled at finding the splendid
comfort of Fifth Avenue here on the far rim of the desert, a little
Japanese boy in snowy linen bowed himself in to them and invited them
to follow. They went down a long hallway after his softly pattering
footsteps and were shown into a large airy bath-room, with a glimpse
beyond of a cozy sitting-room.

"You wish prepare for luncheon, honorable sirs," said the boy, his
teeth and eyes shining in one flash. "You find rest-room there. I call
for you. Anything?"

Conniston told him that there was nothing further required, and he
withdrew, stepping backward as from royalty, bowing deeply.

"Here's where I lose about half of the desert I've been carrying
around with me," muttered Hapgood. "The Lord knows when we'll see
another tub!"

Luxury of luxuries! The bath-room was immaculate in white tiling, the
tub shone resplendently white, and there was steaming-hot water!
Conniston, having strolled into the "rest-room," where he found a deep
leather chair with a table close to its elbow decorated simply but
none the less effectively with a decanter of whisky and a silver box
containing cigarettes, leaned back, enjoying himself and the sound of
the splashing in the bath-room.

Once more in familiar and comfortable environment, even Hapgood for
the moment forgot to be miserable, and as he smoked a good cigarette
and watched the water running into the tub now and then hummed a
Broadway air. As for Conniston, his serene good nature under most
circumstances, his greatest asset in the small frays he had had with
the world, was untroubled by a spot.

"How do you like the West, Roger?" he called, banteringly.

"Something like, eh, Greek?" Hapgood laughed back. "Do you know, I
believe I'll stay! And the dame, isn't she some class, eh?"

He finished his bath finally, and at last emerged, half dressed, to
lounge in the big chair while his friend took his plunge. He heard
Conniston singing to the obligato of the running water, and, with eyes
half closed, leaned back and watched his smoke swirl ceilingward.
Presently the bath-room door opened again, and he saw Conniston, his
trousers in his hand, s