whatever, I assure you."

"Excuse my mentionin' it, then," says I. "But just what is your
line,--croquet?"

"My favorite recreation," says he, "is dawncing." And with that he turns
away like he'd exhausted the subject.

But this gives me an idea. Maybe he could be hired to coach Royce.

"It's a thrillin' sport," says I. "And, by the way, there's a young chap
due to show up here soon. I wonder if you've seen him around
before,--young Hammond?"

"I beg pardon," says he, "but do you refer to Royce Hammond?"

"That's the guy," says I. "Kind of a husky young hick, eh?"

He stares at me cold and disapprovin'. "I am Royce Hammond!" says he.

You could have bought me for a yesterday's rain check. "Wha-a-at!" says
I, gawpin'. "You--you are----"

Say, come to look him over close, I might have known he was no
ten-a-week process server. He's costumed neat but expensive, and his
lily-white hands are manicured to the last notch. Nice lookin' youth he
is, with a good head on him and a fine pair of shoulders. And for
conversation he uses the kind of near-English accent you hear along the
Harvard Gold Coast. Cul-chaw? Why, it fairly dripped from Royce, like
moisture from the ice water tank on a hot day!

"Excuse," says I. "I'm Professor McCabe, and I was only----"

"Oh, yes," says he, sighin' weary, "I understand. Something absurd about
a will, isn't it? Mother is quite keen over it; and I wish she wouldn't,
you know."

"Eh?" says I, a bit dizzy from tryin' to follow him.

"Oh, I've no doubt you mean well enough," he goes on; "but we cawn't
accept favors from utter strangers--really, we cawn't. And besides, old
Gordon was such a rotter!"

To relieve his feelin's he lights a cigarette and gives me the shoulder
once more. I felt like I'd been slapped on the wrist and sent to stand
in the corner.

"Maybe you'd like my apology in writin'?" says I. "Just point out a real
dusty spot on the floor, and I'll grovel in it. But remember, Son, all
we laid out to do, in our humble way, was to give you a boost. So don't
be too hard on us."

He smiles patronizin' at that. "No offense intended, I'm suah," says he.
"I merely wished to make clear my own position in this ridiculous
affair. Of course, if Mother insists, I presume I must---- Bah Jove!
Here they are, though!"

And out through the door comes J. Bayard and the lawyer, escortin' a
stunnin'-built lady with her face half hid by veils. I'd been introduced
too, and was just ha