d toward
a telephone on a small table--"call 8761 Gerrard."

"And where is that?" she asked.

"If I thought you were anything but a very sane young lady, I should
tell you that it is the number of my favourite bar," he said gravely. "I
will not, however, practise that harmless deception upon you."

Again she saw the dancing light of mischief in his eyes.

"You're a queer man," she said, "and I will not make myself ridiculous
by speaking to you for your good."

She heard his soft laughter as the door closed behind him and, gathering
an armful of the guide-books, she settled down for a morning's work
which proved even more fascinating than his fanciful pictures had
suggested. She found herself wondering to what use all this information
she extracted could be put. Was Mr. Beale really a buyer or was he
interested in the sale of agricultural machinery? Why should he want to
know that Jonas Scobbs was the proprietor of Scobbs' Hotel and General
Emporium in the town of Red Horse Valley, Alberta, and what
significance attached to the fact that he had an automobile for hire or
that he ran a coach every Wednesday to Regina?

Then she fell to speculating upon the identity and appearance of this
man who bore this weird name of Scobbs. She pictured him an elderly man
with chin whiskers who wore his pants thrust into top-boots. And why was
Red Horse Valley so called? These unexpected and, to her, hitherto
unknown names of places and people set in train most interesting
processions of thought that slid through the noisy jangle of traffic,
and coloured the drab walls of all that was visible of the City of
London through the window with the white lights and purple shadows of
dream prairies.

When she looked at her watch--being impelled to that act by the
indescribable sensation of hunger--she was amazed to discover that it
was three o'clock.

She jumped up and went to the outer office in search of the boy who, she
faintly remembered, had erupted into her presence hours before with a
request which she had granted without properly hearing. He was not in
evidence. Evidently his petition had also been associated with the
gnawing pangs which assail boyhood at one o'clock in the afternoon.

She was turning back to her office, undecided as to whether she should
remain until his return or close the office entirely, when the shuffle
of feet brought her round.

The outer office was partitioned from the entrance by a long "fence,"
th