you've done for me! Good Lord, man,
where _would_ I be...!"

"Sleeping the sleep of the doped in some filthy corner of Dutch House,
most likely."

"And you saved me from that!"

"And got this hole drilled through you instead."

"Got me away; I'd've collected the lead anyhow--wasn't meaning to stay
without a fight."

"Then you weren't as drunk as you seemed?"

"Didn't you catch me making a move the minute you created a diversion?
Of course, I'd no idea you were friendly--"

"Look here," P. Sybarite interrupted sharply: "doesn't it hurt you to
talk?"

"No--helps me forget this ache."

"All right, then--tell me how this came about. What has Red November
got on you, to make him so anxious--?"

"Nothing, as far as I know; unless it was Brian Shaynon's doing--"

"A-ah!"

"You know that old blighter?"

"Slightly--very slightly."

"Friend of yours?"

"Not exactly."

The accent of P. Sybarite's laugh rendered the disclaimer conclusive.

"Glad to hear that," said the boy gravely: "I'd despise to be beholden
to any friend of his ..."

"Well.... But what's the trouble between you and old man Shaynon?"

"Search me--unless he thought I was spying on him. I say!" the boy
exclaimed excitedly--"what business could he have had with Red
November there, to-night?"

"That _is_ a question," P. Sybarite allowed.

"Something urgent, I'll be bound!--else he wouldn't ever have dared
show his bare map in that dump."

"One would think so...."

"I'd like to figure this thing out. Perhaps you can help. To begin
with--I went to a party to-night."

"I know," said P. Sybarite, with a quiet chuckle: "the Hadley-Owen
masquerade."

"How did you know?"

"_Kismet!_ It had to be."

"Are you by any chance--mad?"

"I shouldn't be surprised. Anyhow, I'm a bit mad I wasn't invited.
Everybody I know or meet--almost--is either bidden to that party or
knows somebody who is. Forgive the interruption.... Anyway," he added,
"we're here."

The taxicab was drawing up before an apartment house entrance.

Hastily recovering his hoard of gold-pieces, P. Sybarite jumped out
and presented one to the driver.

"Can't change that," said the latter, staring. "Besides, this was a
charge call."

"I know," said P. Sybarite apologetically; "but this is for you."

"Good God!" cried the chauffeur.

"And yet," mused P. Sybarite, "they'd have you believe all taxicab
chauffeurs mercenary!"

Recklessly he forced the money into the man's n