?"

The invaluable one bowed and held the shabby garments at a distance from
his person.

"He passed them out to me through a crack in the door," he reported
disgustedly. "What shall I do with them? They're hardly worth pressing,
sir."

"Of course not. Don't bother with them," Anthony smiled, and waved his
man away. "Johnson, turn intelligent for a moment, will you?"

"Why? Intelligence has no place in this evening."

"Oh, yes it has. Let's examine the case of this David youngster and try
to reconstruct his emotions and his mental impressions when confronted
with opportunity such as----"

"Damn opportunity!" said Johnson Boller, rising with a jerk. "I'm going
to bed!"

* * * * *

Only once had Johnson Boller tarried in Montreal, and on that occasion
the thermometer had ranged about ninety in the shade. Yet now, as he
slumbered fitfully in Anthony's Circassian guest-chamber, childhood
notions of Canada came to haunt his dreams.

He saw snow--long, glistening roads of snow over which Beatrice whizzed
in a four-horse sleigh, with driver and footman on the box, and beside
her a tall, foreign-looking creature with a big mustache and flashing
eyes and teeth. He talked to Beatrice and leaned very close, devouring
her beauty with his eyes; and Johnson Boller groaned, woke briefly, and
drifted off again.

He saw ice; they were holding an ice carnival in Montreal, and everybody
was on skates. Beatrice was on skates, ravishing in white fur, leading
some sort of grand march with the Governor General of Canada, who skated
very close to her and devoured her beauty with his bold, official eyes,
causing Johnson Boller to groan again and thresh over on his other side.

He saw a glittering toboggan slide; laughing people in furs were there
at the head of the slide, notably Beatrice, chatting shyly with a blond
giant in a Mackinaw, who leaned very close to her as they prepared to
coast and devoured her beauty with his large, blue eyes. Now they
settled on the toboggan, just these two, although Johnson Boller's
astral self seemed to be with them. The blond giant whispered something,
and they slid down--down--down!

And they struck something, and Johnson Boller was on his feet in the
middle of the Circassian chamber, demanding:

"What's that? What was that?"

Somewhere, Anthony was muttering and moving about. Somewhere else,
Wilkins was chattering; but the main impression was that the roof ha