d, while Mrs. Rodney was
sniffing the air as if it was laden with frost.

"Don't you think Connie is a perfect dear? I'm so fond of her," said
Miss Rodney, so sweetly that he should have detected the nether-flow.

He started and pulled himself together. "Aw, yes,--ripping!" He
consciously adjusted his eyeglass for a hasty glance about in search of
the easily disturbed Mr. Rodney. Then, to Mrs. Rodney, his mind a blank
after a passing glimpse of Constance and her escort: "Aw--er--a
perfectly jolly opera, isn't it?"

CHAPTER IV

THE WOULD-BE BROTHER-IN-LAW

The next morning, bright and early, Mr. Alfred Rodney, a telegram in his
hand, charged down the hall to Mrs. Medcroft's door. With characteristic
Far West impulsiveness he banged on the door. A sleepy voice asked who
was there.

"It's me--Rodney. Get up. I want to see Medcroft. Say, Roxbury, wake
up!"

"Roxbury?" came in shrill tones from within. "He--Isn't he upstairs?
Good heaven, Mr. Rodney, what has happened? What _has_ happened?"

"Upstairs? What the deuce is he doing upstairs?"'

"He's--he's sleeping! Do tell me what's the matter?"

"Isn't this Mr. Medcroft's room?"

"Ye-es--but he isn't in. He objects to the noise. Oh, has anything
happened to Roxbury?" She was standing just inside the door, and her
voice betrayed agitation.

"My dear Edith, don't get excited. I have a telegram from--"

She uttered a shriek.

"He's been assassinated! Oh, Roxbury!"

"What the dev--Are you crazy? It's a telegram from ----"

"Oh, heavens! I knew they'd kill him--I knew something dreadful would
happen if I left--" Here she stopped suddenly. He distinctly heard her
catch her breath. After a moment she went on warily: "Is it from a man
named Hobart?"

"No! It's from Odell-Carney. Hobart? I don't know anybody named Hobart."
(How was he to know that Hobart was the name that Medcroft had chosen
for correspondence purposes?) "We're to meet the Odell-Carneys to-day in
Munich. No time to be lost. We've got to catch the nine o'clock train."

"Oh!" came in great relief from the other side of the door. Then, in
sudden dismay: "But I can't do it! The idea of getting up at an hour
like this!"

"What room is Roxbury in?"

"I--_don't_ KNOW!!" in very decided tones. "Inquire at the
office!"

Alfred Rodney was a persevering man. It is barely possible that he
occupied a lower social plane than that attained by his wife, but he was
a man of accomplishment, if not a