of "button" was still ringing in their ears, the death
scene of _Camille_ was presented as it had never been before--with peals
of laughter. _Camille_ made a final effort, and then fell back on the
bed. There was something in the realistic manner of the act that caught
the quick perception of the audience. The people on the stage also were
attracted by it, and they gathered about the fallen star. The curtain
was rung down on the double-quick. The poor girl remained motionless in
the position she had fallen. The effort had proven too much, the strain
too great--she had been completely overcome, had broken down and
collapsed.

Handy and Fogg later in the night were seated together in a little back
room of the hotel. Fogg was crestfallen--Handy thoughtful. Only a slight
exchange of conversation passed between them. At length the silence was
broken.

"Fogg," asked Handy, "do you believe in a hereafter?"

"What a singular question."

"Never mind about its singularity. Do you?"

"Certainly I do."

"In heaven, and all that kind of thing?"

"Yes."

"Then take a friend's advice. Never again undertake the support of an
'angel' until you reach heaven. They have no buttons there."

The humor was wasted on Fogg. He was too humiliated to relish any kind
of a joke. After lingering a short time, he retired. The veteran
remained thoughtful, taking some consolation from his briarwood and a
steaming hot Scotch. For some minutes he continued in what for some
reason or other is known as a brown study. How long he might have
continued in that condition it is not necessary to speculate on. A tap
at the window aroused him from his revery. He glanced in the direction
from whence the sound came. There he beheld the well-known face of his
first lieutenant, Smith. He motioned Handy to come to him. Handy was too
comfortable where he was. He bade Smith come right in. Smith shook his
head and pantomimed Handy to survey his get-up. The latter recognized
the situation, swallowed the contents of his glass, and stepped outside.
The meeting was not at first particularly cordial, but when Handy
comprehended the predicament in which his friend had placed himself he
laughed.

"You're a beaut, you are. It's a mighty lucky thing Fogg didn't catch
you, let me tell you. If he had, it's dollars to doughnuts there would
be a funeral in the Smith family in the near future; and what's more,
you wouldn't have a word as to choice of vehicle in which you w