e knew that her determined and persistent but somewhat crudely
engineered campaigning to establish herself in what New York calls--with
a big S--Society was the subject in some quarters of a somewhat thinly
veiled derision; he knew that her husband was rather an elemental, not
to say a primitive creature, but genuine and aboveboard and generous, as
elemental beings are likely to be. Marr figured him to be of the jealous
type. He hoped he was; it might simplify matters tremendously.

On a certain summer morning a paragraph appeared in at least three daily
papers to the effect that Mr. and Mrs. Justus Propbridge had gone down
to Gulf Stream City, on the Maryland coast; they would be at the
Churchill-Fontenay there for a week or ten days. It was at his breakfast
that Marr read this information. At noon, having in the meantime done a
considerable amount of telephoning, he was on his way to the seaside
too. Mentally he was shaking hands with himself in a warmly
congratulatory way. Gulf Stream City was a place seemingly designed,
both by Nature and by man, for the serving of his purposes.

Residing there were persons of his own kidney and persuasion, on whom
he might count for at least one detail of invaluable cooperation. For a
certain act of his piece, a short but highly important one, he also must
have a borrowed stage setting and a supernumerary actor or so.

Immediately upon his arrival he sought out certain dependable
individuals and put them through a rough rehearsal. This he did before
he claimed the room he had engaged by wire at the Hotel Crofter. The
Hotel Crofter snuggled its lesser bulk under an imposing flank of the
supposedly exclusive and admittedly expensive Churchill-Fontenay. From
its verandas one might command a view of the main entrance of the
greater hotel.

It was on a Tuesday that the Propbridges reached Gulf Stream City. It
was on Wednesday afternoon that the husband received a telegram, signed
with the name of a business associate, calling him to Toledo for a
conference--so the wire stated--upon an urgent complication newly
arisen. Mr. Propbridge, as all the world knew, was one of the heaviest
stockholders and a member of the board of the Sonnesbein-Propbridge Tire
Company, which, as the world likewise knew, had had tremendous dealings
in contracts with the Government and now was having trouble closing up
the loose ends of its wartime activities.

He packed a bag and caught a night train West. On