eakfast one morning that the newspaper brought amazing news
to Little Badholme. The first piece of news was to the effect that gold
had been discovered in big quantities in the Klondyke, and that a vast
stampede was taking place. The second was of far greater importance, so
far as Jim was concerned. It was announced in a comparatively small
headline, but it leaped out to him as he casually glanced over the
columns.

BIG CRASH ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE.
SECRETARY AND DIRECTORS OF THE
AMAZON COPPER COMPANY ABSCOND.

It came as a shock to him. But a few months since he had invested all his
money in the Amazon Company! He ran to the telephone and got through to
his broker. The reply was what he expected; the Company had gone smash
without hope of recovery, the shares were not worth the paper on which
they were written. He put up the receiver and sat down to think things
over. He was broke. Save for his small bank balance and the house over his
head, he had nothing in the world.

He laughed grimly as he reflected upon his meteoric career. In the
meantime there was Angela spending as though money came from some eternal
fountain! He frowned as he remembered the precious checks that had been
paid during the past few months, checks that had reduced his liquid cash
reserve to a mere fragment. Though he was unwilling to confess it, it gave
him a certain amount of joy to anticipate her fall to earth when she
realized that the lavish entertaining must cease--that the source of the
magic spring had suddenly dried up.

He took the next train to London, dined at the club, and then prepared to
break the news to Angela.

At that moment the adorable Angela was receiving a friend. Hilary
Meredith, spotlessly garbed, was lounging in the drawing-room, drinking in
the strains of a Chopin Nocturne. Not only were his ears gladdened by
romantic music, but his eyes were equally exercised by the radiant figure
of Angela, bending over the piano, with the red-shaded lights throwing her
bare shoulders into perspective and turning her hair to liquid gold. The
nocturne ended, she swung round on Meredith.

"How did you like that, Hilary?"

"Superb--dark avenues on a June night, with odorous breezes and the lap of
the sea on the beach below--and you, Angela--always you, dreaming in the
moonlight."

"Don't be absurd! Why should I dream in the moonlight? And what should I
dream?"

He looke