" suggested another member of the group drily, "when one New York
family can move as stolid an old cynic as Staples to eulogy, it must be
some family."

"I tell you," protested Staples hotly, "I hate them, but we gain nothing
by belittling our enemies. It sets a man's imagination afire to see a
strain of remarkable blood proclaiming itself in so diverse a fashion
through members of one household; a household that has come from the
pinch of want. Take the girl. Leave her beauty out of the question,
because beauty is not genius. But her mind is as trenchant as her
brother's. She could reign on any throne in Europe and stand out as
conspicuous in brilliant contrast to that colorless royalty as a torch
flaming among candles. I'll wager that her courage is as unflinching as
his and her gifts as varied and remarkable. Why, even old Tom, the
father, is, for all his seeming of pompous emptiness, the craftiest and
cagiest old chap in the National Union Club. He plays rotten bridge, but
he still has a brain in his old head."

"I suppose as far as that goes," commented Mr. Kirk, fortified by the
entry of a new disputant into the argument, "that even Nero had his
attractive angles of personality."

Thayre laughed and lighted a cigarette. Then as he inhaled deeply he
nodded and replied.

"I hold no brief for Nero, but I dare say he was a bit misunderstood."

"Since you've undertaken the modern Nero's defense, suppose you
catalogue _his_ good points--aside from a conceded brilliancy in
finance," suggested another member of the group.

The Englishman nodded, and began his summary.

"An unswerving loyalty to his friends--until they are guilty of _lese
majeste_; a personal integrity which no man questions; a wit that makes
him in his lighter moments a rare companion; a generosity as broad as
his fighting ruthlessness is deep; and, finally, a lion-like courage. To
me, my lads, those assets seem worth a moment's consideration."

* * * * *

The gardens and grounds of Haverly Lodge were that night such a terrain
as best suits the ambuscading warfare of the small god with the bow and
darts.

Loraine Haswell was thinking something of the sort as she strolled with
Paul Burton away from the dancers, leaving their destination to chance.
Kirk had hardly exaggerated when he bracketed the name of this slender
and graceful wife of the gigantic broker with that of Mary Burton as the
two most beautiful women