bout Mr. David Prentiss,
and with that she was past me and inside, Mr. Fry."

"Where is she now?"

"Well, she--she's in his bedroom, sir!" Wilkins stated. "The young chap
came flying out like a madman, Mr. Fry, and threw his arms around her,
speaking French as I suppose. And she--she threw her arms around Mr.
Prentiss, sir, and with that they--well, they're in there now, sir."

Johnson Boller laughed unpleasantly.

"Picked off a live one, didn't you, Anthony?" said he. "There's nothing
slow about David. He comes here and settles down at midnight, and his
lady friends are calling by six the next morning. When you----"

Anthony had passed him, chin set and lips rather white.

There are some places where the questionable may be passed over quite
lightly. The Hotel Lasande is not one of these places. There are
thousands upon thousands of bachelors who would merely have grinned
interestedly at the news; Anthony, being impeccable and a genuine
woman-hater at heart, was not of these thousands. Hence, even his lean
and aristocratic cheeks were white as he rattled at the knob of David's
door.

He had expected to find it locked, and in that he was disappointed. The
door gave quite readily, admitting Anthony and Johnson Boller as
well--and for a matter of seconds they stood transfixed before the
picture.

Beyond question, the woman was there!

She was little and very dark, decidedly pretty, for that matter, and
obviously fond of David Prentiss; she sat at David's side on the edge of
the bed and her arms were about David--while young Mr. Prentiss himself
held her fast and seemed in a high state of excitement.

Even as the door opened, they had been speaking, both at the same time
and both in French, in itself rather an astonishing phenomenon; but as
the bathrobed gentlemen stopped beside them they ceased speaking. They
merely clutched each other the tighter and looked at Anthony.

"Well?" Anthony Fry said slowly, and his voice was a terrible thing to
hear.

"Well?" David said faintly.

His pretty little friend broke into a torrent of French, of which,
unfortunately, neither Anthony nor Johnson Boller could make anything at
all. David, with a long, gasping intake of his breath, muttered
something to her, and that proving futile, put a gentle hand over her
mouth. The girl, looking at Anthony, burst suddenly into loud and
hysterical weeping!

"For Heaven's sake, shut her up!" gasped the master of the apartment.

"Y