risoned
for the duration of the war and you managed to get him back home."

"Merely a matter of official routine. I felt sure he was a loyal
American citizen."

"Exactly. But he makes more of the incident than you do, and he gave me
my instructions. So--what can I do for you on his behalf? You have only
to ask."

Gray pondered the unexpected offer. He was still a bit shaken, for a
moment ago he had been more deeply stirred even than Haviland
suspected, and the emotional reaction had left him weak. After all the
hollow pretense of this day a genuine proffer of aid was welcome, and
the temptation to accept was strong. Herman Dietz was indeed indebted
to him, and he believed the old German-American would do anything, lend
him any amount of money, for instance, that he might ask for. Gray
wondered why he had not thought of Dietz before he came to Texas; it
would have made things much easier. But the offer had come too late, it
seemed to him; at this moment he could see no means of profiting by it
without wrecking the flimsy house of cards he had that very day erected
and exposing himself to ridicule, to obloquy as a rank four-flusher.
The scarcely dry headlines of that afternoon paper ran before his
eyes--"_Famous Financier Admits Large Oil Interests Behind Him_."
Probably there were other things in the body of the article that would
not harmonize with an appeal to Haviland for funds, nor sound well to
Mr. Dietz, once he learned the truth. The more Gray pondered the
matter, the more regretfully he realized that he had overplayed his
hand, as it were.

Here was a situation indeed! To be occupying the most expensive suite
in the hotel of a man who wished to lend him money, to be unable to pay
one day's rent therefore, and yet to be stopped from accepting aid.
There was a grim irony about it, for a fact. Then, too, the seed he had
sown in banking circles, and his luncheon with the mayor! Haviland had
a sense of humor; it would make a story too good to keep--the new oil
operator, the magnificent and mysterious New York financier, a
"deadhead" at the Ajax. Oh, murder!

"Well, name your poison! Isn't there something, anything we can do for
you?" Haviland repeated.

"There is, decidedly." Gray smiled his warm appreciation of the tender.
"If it is not too great a drain upon the Dietz millions, you may keep a
supply of cut flowers in my room. I'm passionately fond of roses, and I
should like to have my vases filled every mor