small mirror affixed
to one of the walls of the building. He was pleased, as the fatuous
self-complacence of his look indicated, and carefully, almost fastidiously
dressed, and he could not deny himself this last look into the mirror,
even though he was now five minutes late with his appointment. The five
minutes threatened to become ten, for, in adjusting his tie-pin it slipped
from his fingers, struck the floor and vanished, as though an evil fate
had gobbled it.

He searched for it frenziedly, cursing lowly, but none the less viciously.
It was quite by accident that when his patience was strained almost to the
breaking point, he struck his hand against a board that formed part of the
partition between his building and the courthouse next door, and tore a
huge chunk of skin from the knuckles. He paid little attention to the
injury, however, for the agitating of the board disclosed the glittering
recreant, and he pounced upon it with the precision of a hawk upon its
prey, snarling triumphantly.

"I'll nail that damned board up, some day!" he threatened. But he knew he
wouldn't, for by lying on the floor and pulling the board out a trifle, he
could get a clear view of the interior of the courthouse, and could hear
quite plainly, in spite of the presence of a wooden box resting against
the wall on the other side. And some of the things that Braman had already
heard through the medium of the loose board were really interesting, not
to say instructive, to him.

He was ten minutes late in keeping his appointment. He might have been
even later without being in danger of receiving the censure he deserved.
For the lady received him in a loose wrapper and gracefully disordered
hair, a glance at which made Braman gasp in unfeigned admiration.

"What's this?" he demanded with a pretense of fatherly severity, which he
imagined became him very well in the presence of women. "Not ready yet,
Mrs. Harvey?"

The woman waved him to a chair with unsmiling unconcern; dropped into
another, crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, her hands folded
across the back of her head, her sleeves, wide and flaring, sliding down
below her elbows. She caught Braman's burning stare of interest in this
revelation of negligence, and smiled at him in faint derision.

"I'm tired, Croft. I've changed my mind about going to the First
Merchants' Ball. I'd much rather sit here and chin you--if you don't
mind."

"Not a bit!" hastily acquiesced th