re made with
so penitential a ring in his voice that his aunt at once jumped to the
conclusion that he must have been bored to death by the old fellow,
while Corinne hugged herself in the belief that perhaps after all Jack
was renewing his interest in her; a delusion which took such possession
of her small head that she finally determined to send Garry a
note begging him to come to her at once, on business of the UTMOST
IMPORTANCE; two strings being better than one, especially when they were
to be played each against the other.

As to the uplifting of the house of Breen & Co., and the possibility of
so small a tail as himself being able to wag so large a dog as his uncle
and his partners, that seemed now to be so chimerical an undertaking
that he laughed when he thought of it.

This urbanity of mood was still with him when some days later he dropped
into the Magnolia Club on his way home, his purpose being to find Garry
and to hear about the supper which his club friends had given him to
celebrate his winning of the Morris ring.

Little Biffton was keeping watch when Jack swung in with that free
stride of his that showed more than anything else his muscular body and
the way he had taken care of and improved it. No dumb-bells or clubs for
fifteen minutes in the morning--but astride a horse, his thighs gripping
a bare-back, roaming the hills day after day--the kind of outdoor
experience that hardens a man all over without specializing his biceps
or his running gear. Little Biff never had any swing to his gait--none
that his fellows ever noticed. Biff went in for repose--sometimes hours
at a time. Given a club chair, a package of cigarettes and some one to
talk to him and Biff could be happy a whole afternoon.

"Ah, Breen, old man! Come to anchor." Here he moved back a chair an inch
or two with his foot, and pushed his silver cigarette-case toward the
newcomer.

"Thank you," replied Jack. "I've just dropped in to look for Garry
Minott. Has he been in?"

Biff was the bulletin-board of the Magnolia club. As he roomed upstairs,
he could be found here at any hour of the day or night.

Biff did not reply at once; there was no use in hurrying--not about
anything. Besides, the connection between Biff's ears and his brain
was never very good. One had to ring him up several times before he
answered.

Jack waited for an instant, and finding that the message was delayed
in transmission, helped himself to one of Biff's "Spec