just as I planned it. Wonder how it all came about?"

Then he realized how long he'd been away from Blair. How Blair,
doubtless, supposed him dead, and, most naturally, the boy had gone on
with the story, and here was the splendid result.

He sat through the thing enthralled, and when the finale came, so
exactly as he had planned that smashing great scene, he could have
yelled his applause. But he didn't, he simply sat still in glad
anticipation of seeing it all over again.

But he was disappointed. It was not a continuous performance--the long
play was a whole evening's entertainment, and opening and closing hours
were like those of a regular theater.

So Peter determined to come the next night to see it again, and to see
the first part that he had missed.

"Great old play," he thought, delightedly. "Wonder if Blair put it on
before he died, or if it's posthumous."

He picked up a stray program as he left the place--he had had none
before--and put it in his pocket to look over at home.

"At least, I'm not suffering from lack of interests or diversion," he
said, "but, by Jingo, I've just thought of it! What about money!

"I've enough to hang out at that hotel about a week and that's all. I'll
have to tell Dad I'm here, or get a job or rob a bank. And what can I do
to turn an honest penny? And I can't go to work under an assumed name!
Oh, hang it all, I've got to come to life! Much as I love Dad and much
as I want to save him from all ridicule and disaster about that
abominable book, I've simply got to live my own life!

"But I won't decide till my cash gets lower than it is now. I'll go a
bit further in my investigations and then we'll see about it."

Comfortably seated in his room he drew out the program to look over.

To his unbounded amazement he learned from the title page that the
author of the play and also the producer, or, at least, the president of
the producing company was--Christopher Shelby!

"Kit! Good old top!" he cried aloud.

"Oh, I must see him," he thought, "I just must see him! So Kit wrote the
thing--well, I suppose he and Blair did it together-- I recognize Kit's
hand more especially in the producing element--and then, old Gilbert,
bless him, was killed, and Kit went ahead alone-- I can't think Mac
Thorpe did for Gil--oh, I must see _somebody_ or I'll go crazy!"

And because he was afraid to trust himself to keep away from the
telephone any longer, Peter Boots went to bed.

The nigh