lf a
dozen systems, his fortune already estimated at several millions, and
his name in the railroad world one to conjure with, not only in Wall
Street, but from New York to Frisco.

Irritated at his companion's silence, Stafford repeated more loudly:

"Do you hear? I'm going to cut it out!"

At last Hadley, his ire roused, looked up.

"Look here, Bob," he exclaimed impatiently, "you make me tired. You're
a game sport, I don't think. It wasn't Maude's little party that
knocked you out." Pointing significantly to the empty bottles of
champagne on the side tables, he went on: "That's what did you up. Why
did you soak yourself with champagne when you got home? Do you know
you got away with two quarts of the stuff?"

Stafford passed a hand over his burning brow.

"The deuce I did! I don't remember. I must have been drunk when I got
home. I took the 'fizz' to sober up on. Why did you let me?"

"Let you?" echoed Hadley scornfully. "Is there any man alive capable
of keeping you from the bottle when you've got a thirst on?"

"Yes," admitted Stafford contritely, "I recall that I was d--d
thirsty."

"And instead of drinking ice water, you rang for champagne. You're a
nice kind of fellow to moralize--you are!"

Rising from the table, Hadley yawned, stretched himself, and,
sauntering over to a window, stood looking out upon the busy city
below. From that elevation the bird's-eye view was wonderful. The
broad avenues below, teeming with life, the surging, confused mass of
pedestrians and vehicles, the close network of side-streets filled
with busy traffic, the silvery Hudson with sailing vessels and
steamships departing for every port in the world--all this was a scene
of which the eye never tired. The young man gazed at it for a moment,
and then, retracing his steps, threw himself into an arm-chair.
Lighting a cigar, he said:

"These are bully rooms, all right. The view is splendid. But I don't
see why you need to come to a hotel when you have your apartment on
Riverside--and such an apartment!--a veritable palace, filled with
everything one's artistic taste cares for and furnished and decorated
to suit yourself."

"That's just why," answered his companion dryly.

The railroad man had left the breakfast table, and, seated at a desk
on the other side of the room, was busy glancing over a huge batch of
letters which had come with the morning's mail.

"What do you mean by 'that's just why'?" demanded Hadley, puzzled.