company here, and we are at
all times glad to entertain our friends. At the same time, the privileges
of the club are retained so far as possible for those who conform to a
reasonable standard of good manners."

There was a sudden thumping of hands upon the table until the glasses
rattled. Power's face showed not a single sign of anger. He was simply
puzzled. He had come into touch with something which he could not
understand. There was Bridges, earning a salary at his theatre, to be
thrown out into the streets or made a star of, according to his whim;
Heselton, a family man, drawing his salary, and a good one, too, also
from the theatre; men whose faces were familiar to him--some of them, he
knew, on newspapers in which he owned a controlling interest. The power
of which he had bragged was a real enough thing. What had come to these
men that they failed to recognise it?--to this slim young boy of an
Englishman that he dared to defy him?

"Pretty queer crowd, you boys," he muttered.

Philip, who had been waiting by the door, came a few steps back again.

"Mr. Power," he said, "I don't know much about you, and you don't seem to
know anything at all about us. I am only at present a member by courtesy
of this club, but it isn't often that any one has reason to complain of
lack of hospitality here. If you take my advice, you'll apologise to
these gentlemen for your shockingly bad behaviour when you came in. Tell
them that you weren't quite yourself, and I'll stand you a drink myself."

"That goes," Honeybrook assented gravely. "It's up to you, sir."

Mr. Sylvanus Power felt that he had wandered into a cul-de-sac. He had
found his way into one of those branch avenues leading from the great
road of his imperial success. He was man enough to know when to turn
back.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I offer you my apologies. I came here in a furious
temper and a little drunk. I retract all that I said. I'll drink to your
club, if you'll allow me the privilege."

Willing hands filled his tumbler, and grateful ones forced a glass
between Philip's fingers. None of them really wanted Sylvanus Power for
an enemy.

"Here's looking at you all," the latter said. "Luck!" he muttered,
glancing towards Philip.

They all drank as though it were a rite. Philip and Sylvanus Power set
their glasses down almost at the same moment. Philip turned towards the
door.

"I am at your service now, Mr. Power," he announced. "Good night, you
fellows