unt he could
spend a day, and divided up his cash into the daily portion, each in an
envelope. He purchased an alcohol stove and a coffee-pot, and set
to work.

There were only twelve days in which to do or die, and he went at it in
a frenzy. Day faded into night, night faded into day, marked only by the
thumping of the outraged chambermaid, at whom he thundered. When he
remembered, he dashed out for food, but for the most part he drank
coffee, and more coffee.

Once he went for a long walk. He could never remember, afterward,
whether it was day or night. But during it he thought out a new scene,
and ran miles to get back and get it down. He grew thinner and more
hollow-eyed each day, but he cared for nothing but accomplishing this
thing. He knew the act was good. He felt sure Miss Harper would like it.

At dawn of the day he was to finish it he rushed into a dairy lunch to
get a sandwich and a glass of milk. While he waited for the heavy-eyed
clerk to get it, he picked up a morning paper. The date caught his eye.
This was his last day of grace, sure enough. He must call up and get an
appointment for the afternoon, for Miss Harper would be sailing
to-morrow. Idly his eye travelled across the page, and suddenly was
riveted by a headline: "Bertram Parke and his wife, Helen Harper, sail
on the Mauretania to-day. They will hasten to London, to sign a contract
for a play for Miss Harper by Galsworthy, which will be produced in New
York immediately on her return."

The print blurred before Jarvis's eyes. Everything swayed and swam. Out
of the chaos came the voice of the tired clerk, shouting: "Say, you,
what's the matter with you? Can't you take your sandwich? Think I'm
going to hold it all day?"

Jarvis didn't understand him. He didn't even hear him. He just laid down
his last quarter and went out, a bit unsteadily.

"Soused!" grinned the clerk, looking after him.

XV

Bambi sat, chin on hand, staring off into the distance so long that the
Professor's attention was finally attracted to her. She held Jarvis's
letter in her hand--his call-to-arms letter.

"No bad news, I hope?" ventured her father.

"Oh, no; good news. The best. Jarvis is alive!"

"Why, you didn't think he was dead?"

"Yes, in a sense he was dead."

"Strange I never noticed it."

"I mean that he was only fully alive to himself. He was dead to other
people. He has been dangerously self-centred."

"And now----"

"Now many hands are knoc