Where was he at this moment? Tossing in a hot bedroom, or
prowling the streets, as he seemed prone to do these nights?

She pondered the processes which made success so easy for some
people--hers, for instance, a happy accident--while others, Jarvis-like,
had to be tied to the wheel before the fickle goddess released them and
crowned them. Was it all chance? Or was there some big plan back of it
all? Was she spared this incarnation that she might strive harder in the
next? Was Jarvis expiating for past immunity? It was all a tangle,
surely, to our mortal eyes.

She gave it up, snapped off her light, and went to bed. A shaft of
silver, like a prayer rug, lay across the floor.

"Lady Moon, shine softly on my Knight of the Broken Lance," she
whispered, as she closed her eyes.

XVI

There was a faint idea in Jarvis's mind, as he staggered out of the
all-night lunch, of swimming after the Mauretania to overtake the
Parkes. Then his wandering senses collected themselves. He realized that
the vessel did not sail until eleven, or thereabouts; that there were
still several hours before that.

He hurried back to his room, dressed carefully, took the manuscript, and
started out. It never occurred to him to telephone. Arrived at the
house, the butler informed him that the Parkes had left in the motor at
8:30. No word had been left for Mr. Jocelyn.

Jarvis's jaw was set as he started downtown. He went to the wharf where
the steamer lay, but there was only fifteen minutes left before her
sailing. It was impossible to find out anything from anybody. So, with a
sardonic calm, he watched the steamer slowly loosing from the wharf and
making her stately exit.

On the way uptown he made up his mind as to the next move. He would
begin action to-day on the Charles Frohman forces. He must also try to
find a job. His resources were about exhausted.

At the Empire Theatre, where the king of managers rules, there was
actually an elevator to carry one up to the throne room and its
antechambers. At a window, in a sort of cashier's booth, a boy received
Jarvis's manuscript, numbered and entered it on the file.

"How soon will it be read?" Jarvis asked.

"Oh, six weeks or so," said the youth.

"No possible chance of seeing Mr. Frohman?"

"Only by appointment. He is in Europe now."

Jarvis relinquished his precious bundle and departed. It occurred to
him, when he reached the street, that part of his depression was from
hunger.