Monty grew
impatient of the book's small economies. Noticing some chapters on the
Italian lakes, in an inspired moment he remembered that Pettingill had
once lost his heart to a villa on the Lake of Como. Instantly a new act
of comedy presented itself to him. He sought out Pettingill and
demanded a description of his castle in the air.

"Oh, it's a wonder," exclaimed the artist, and his eyes grew dreamy.
"It shines out at you with its white terraces and turrets like those
fascinating castles that Maxfield Parrish draws for children. It is
fairyland. You expect to wake and find it gone."

"Oh, drop that, Petty," said Brewster, "or it will make you poetical.
What I want to know is who owns it and is it likely to be occupied at
this season?"

"It belongs to a certain marquise, who is a widow with no children.
They say she has a horror of the place for some reason and has never
been near it. It is kept as though she was to turn up the next day, but
except for the servants it is always deserted."

"The very thing," declared Brewster; "Petty, we'll have a house-party."

"You'd better not count on that, Monty. A man I know ran across the
place once and tried for a year to buy it. But the lady has ideas of
her own."

"Well, if you wish to give him a hint or two about how to do things,
watch me. If you don't spend two weeks in your dream-castle, I will cut
the crowd and sail for home." He secured the name of the owner, and
found that Pettingill had even a remote idea of the address of her
agent. Armed with these facts he set out in search of a courier, and
through Philippe he secured a Frenchman named Bertier, who was
guaranteed to be surprisingly ingenious in providing methods of
spending money. To him Brewster confided his scheme, and Bertier
realized with rising enthusiasm that at last he had secured a client
after his own heart. He was able to complete the address of the agent
of the mysterious marquise, and an inquiry was immediately telegraphed
to him.

The agent's reply would have been discouraging to any one but Brewster.
It stated that the owner had no intention of leasing her forsaken
castle for any period whatever. The profligate learned that a fair
price for an estate of that kind for a month was ten thousand francs,
and he wired an offer of five times that sum for two weeks. The agent
replied that some delay would be necessary while he communicated with
his principal. Delay was the one word that Brewster di