mists
say), P. Sybarite at length found himself only a layer or two removed
from the elevator gates.

And one of these presently opening, he stumbled in with the crush, to
hold his breath in vain effort to make himself smaller, gaze in
cross-eyed embarrassment at the abundant and nobly undisguised back of
the lady of distinction in front of him, and stand on tiptoes to spare
those of the man behind him; while the cage descended with maddening
deliberation.

If he had but guessed the identity of the man in the rear, the chances
are he would have (thoughtlessly of course) brought down his heels
upon the other's toes with all his weight on top of them. But in his
ignorance P. Sybarite was diligent to keep the peace.

Liberated on the lower floor, he found his lackey, resumed hat and
coat, and mounted guard in the lobby opposite the elevators.

Miss Blessington procrastinating consistently with her warning, he
schooled himself to patience, mildly diverted by inspection of those
who passed him, going out.

At the side-street entrance, the crush of ante-room and elevators was
duplicated, people jamming the doorway and overflowing to the sidewalk
while awaiting their motor-cars and carriages.

But through the Fifth Avenue entrance only the thin stream of those
intending to walk was trickling away.

After a time P. Sybarite discovered Mr. Bayard Shaynon not far off,
like himself waiting and with a vigilant eye reviewing the departing,
the while he talked in close confidence with one who, a stranger to P.
Sybarite, was briefly catalogued in his gallery of impressions as
"hard-faced, cold-eyed, middle-aged, fine-trained but awkward--very
likely, _nouveau riche_;" and with this summary, dismissed from the
little man's thoughts.

When idly he glanced that way a second time, the younger Shaynon was
alone, and had moved nearer; his countenance impassive, he looked
through and beyond P. Sybarite a thought too ostentatiously. But when
eventually Marian appeared, he was instant to her side, forestalling
even the alert flanking movement of P. Sybarite.

"You're quite ready, Marian?" Shaynon asked; and familiarly slipped a
guiding hand beneath the arm of the girl--with admirable effrontery
ignoring his earlier dismissal.

On the instant, halting, the girl turned to him a full, cold stare.

"I prefer you do not touch me," she said clearly, yet in low tones.

"Oh, come!" he laughed uneasily. "Don't be foolish--"

"Did you h