after i had seen irma safely out of the rotterdam (i thought she looked more adorable in her plain black dress and modest hat than in all her finery), i went back to my own rooms in the hotel. i was expecting a telephone report from a man whom i had sent to pick up what he could at the garage where lorina stored her car. meanwhile i gave myself up to the joy of picturing mrs. bleecker's dismay when she returned from her hypothetical errand, and mount's black rage when he dropped in at four to be married and found himself minus a bride. i had always suspected that mount concealed tigerish tendencies under his too-smooth exterior.

by and by my telephone did ring, but it was not the man i expected. an agitated young voice hailed me over the wire, which i had some difficulty in recognising as blondy's. he was so excited i could not make head or tail of his message. when i got him straightened out it ran something like this:

"i have just been at mrs. mansfield's office, i mean the down-town office. she told me last night to come to-day as she had a package to be taken to a man at the hotel madagascar. i was sitting beside her desk and she was writing a letter to go with the package, when the telephone bell rang. she knows how to talk over the telephone without giving anything away. all she said was 'yes' and 'no' and 'repeat that,' but i saw that it was important because her face changed and her eyes glittered. when she looks like that it means danger.

"she was talking to a woman called bella.

"she made some notes on a pad. as soon as she rang off she jumped up. she said she was called out and told me i needn't wait because she wouldn't send the package until to-morrow. when she turned to get her hat i managed to catch a glimpse of the notes she had put down. she had written:

"elegantly-dressed man of fifty.

silvery toupee, waxed moustache, pale face.

brown suit, waistcoat edged with white.

white spats, white gloves.

expensive panama hat, fancy band green and red.

room 1104."

"this is your description, and this is the number of your room. i was scared when i saw the expression of her face. she sent me home. she left at the same time, and took a taxi at the door. she carries her gun in a kind of pocket in her skirt. look out for her!"

"i get you, old boy!" i cried. "you've done me a good turn and i shan't forget it. don't you worry."

i hung up the receiver, and did a little thinking. i was struck by the name of the woman who had called lorina up, bella. it is not a very common name. it was mrs. bleecker's name. was this a new thread in my extraordinary tangle?

it was decidedly awkward to have my disguise laid bare just at this moment. however, forewarned is forearmed. i set about putting my affairs in order. i did not know whether lorina would visit the rotterdam or not, but i was sure she would not do so without making her usual careful arrangements, and not probably, without disguising herself, all of which would take time. i gave myself an hour, anyway.

i gathered my papers together, and despatched those of them i valued to dr. ——, who had been so good to me already. i wrote notes to mr. dunsany, blondy and other agents instructing them to send their reports in the care of oscar nilson until they heard from me again. all the beautiful sartorial effects i had to leave behind me. maybe i could redeem them later if they were not sold by the hotel to pay my bill.

it was close upon four and i supposed the wedding-guests were gathering, when my telephone summoned me again.

"miss sadie farrell is calling," said the voice at the other end.

my heart jumped, but simultaneously caution held up a warning finger. "one moment," i answered.

i did some rapid thinking. i did not keep the girl waiting an appreciable moment, but in that time i thought a whole chapter, as one may do in a crisis. not sadie! better sense instantly told me she would never come to my hotel. she had a more exalted notion of what was due her. lorina, of course. she had used the most obvious expedient of reaching my rooms. i had three alternatives:

(a) to deny myself to her. but in that case i would virtually be besieged in the hotel.

(b) to see her down-stairs. she would hardly take a shot at me in the crowded lobby—but she might very well have some half-crazed youth there to do it for her.

(c) to have her up-stairs, where she could not pass any signals outside. i had two rooms——

"please have miss farrell come up-stairs," i said over the phone.

i had one of the best suites at the rotterdam, a corner room which was my parlour, and a bedroom. i put the key to the parlour door in my pocket, retired into the bedroom, and locked the communicating door. presently i heard the bell-boy's knock on the parlour door.

"come in!" i sang out.

through the door i heard the sounds of two people entering my parlour.

"hello, sadie!" i cried. "make yourself at home. i'll be dressed in a jiffy!"

an indistinguishable murmur answered me. this was certainly not my sadie.

the bell-boy went out, and i heard him retiring down the hall. i gave him time to get out of the way, then i slipped out of the bedroom into the hall, key to the other room in hand. i inserted it ever so softly in the parlour door, and turned it. but she heard! she rushed to the door and shook it. by that time i was around the corner of the corridor.

the telephone girl looked at me somewhat curiously as i pressed the elevator button, but did not quite like to question me. she knew, of course, that a caller had just been shown into my room.

"i'll be back in a minute," i said carelessly.

just then i saw the number of my room 1104 displayed on the switchboard. lorina had rushed to the phone.

"is there a drugstore in the hotel?" i asked the girl at random, to distract her attention.

"no, sir. there is one opposite the thirty-fourth street entrance."

the elevator was approaching my floor. i needed one more second to make my getaway. "is it a reliable place?" i asked.

"conway's," she said, holding the plug ready in her hand, "one of the largest in town."

the elevator door was now open, and i stepped aboard. the operator shoved the plug in, and answered the call. i was carried down.

i could not tell, of course, what form lorina's appeal for help would take. in case she might telephone to have me intercepted in the lobby, i took the precaution to get off at the mezzanine floor. i passed around the gallery to the other side of the building, and gained the street without interference.

so there i was safe, but once more homeless.

a gaily-dressed couple left the hotel immediately in front of me. the woman was talking rather excitedly. reaching the pavement i saw that the talker was miss beulah maddox, late of irma's company. of course! no difficulty in guessing what she was excited about. they turned west on thirty-fourth street. i was bound in the same direction. i heard her say:

"of course nobody believes she's sick. what can be the matter?"

"they've had a row i suppose," replied her companion.

half a dozen steps farther along, they met another couple likewise gloriously arrayed. i did not know these two, but it required little perspicacity to guess that they too belonged to the profession. miss maddox greeted them with a squeal of excitement.

"oh, my dears!"

it was risky, but i could not forbear stopping a moment to listen. i made out to be looking for a taxi.

"what do you think?" cried miss maddox. "there's no use your going any farther! there isn't going to be any wedding!"

"why?"

"nobody knows. another extraordinary caprice of irma's! everybody is told at the desk that she is ill, and the ceremony postponed, but of course that's only an excuse. i had a glimpse of mr. mount and he looked simply furious, my dear!"

and so on! and so on! a taxi drew up and i jumped in.

i had myself taken to oscar's shop, and in one of the little cubicles, the distinguishing marks of the elegant mr. boardman, late of the rotterdam, were removed. it would have been fun to adopt another swell makeup and go back to the rotterdam to see what was happening, but it was too risky. it was safer for me to play an humble character now.

oscar provided me with a longish mop of black hair, and a pair of heavy black eye-brows. he went out himself to get me the rough clothes i needed. an hour after i had gone into his shop i came out again, a typical representative of tough young new york. the hudson dusters would not have rejected me.

it was now nearly half-past five. the hands of the clock reminded me of the meeting that i had arranged to bring about at that hour. my heart was very keen for the success of this meeting, yet i was full of uncomfortable doubts. now that i had changed my character i felt that i might safely go and see how things turned out, so i turned my steps in the direction of the american café on third avenue.

when i got there roland was already eating his supper. no sign of irma yet. the american is one of those older lunchrooms where they have long mahogany tables each decorated with a row of sugar bowls and sauce bottles with squirt tops. in such places one of the squirt tops still gives "pepper sauce" though i never saw anybody use it. there was a double row of long tables with a lane between. roland had the wall seat of the first table on the right. his shorthand book was propped against a vinegar bottle, and he studied it while he fed himself.

i took a seat two removes from him on the same side of the table. he paid no attention to me. i took this distance, because if irma came i didn't want to hear too much. no one was likely to sit between us, so long as there were whole tables vacant. it was a little early for the supper hour, and there were few in the place.

i ordered the pièce de resistance of such places, viz.: a plate of beef stew. roland was almost through his supper, and i wondered apprehensively if irma meant to exercise her woman's prerogative of being late. perhaps her nerve had failed her, and she would not come. she had burned her bridges though. what else could she do but come? from time to time i glanced in my young friend's face. it was pale and drawn. verily, i thought, his infernal pride was sapping his youth.

then i saw irma and my heart set up a great beating. it's a risky thing to presume to play providence to a pair of young souls, one of whom is as explosive as guncotton. what was going to happen? irma was hovering about outside. she glanced in the place nervously. unfortunately there was no other woman eating there at the moment, though women did come to the place. irma walked on. had she given up? my heart sunk. no, presently she came strolling back. she meant to wait for him outside. i approved her good sense. plainly dressed though she was, her entrance into that place would have created a sensation.

roland, all unconscious of what was in store, got up, slipped the book in his pocket, paid his score with an abstracted air, and went out. he never looked at me. his brain was full of shorthand symbols.

i followed him at once, though i had but started my supper. nobody cared so long as i paid.

i was just in time to see them come face to face on the pavement outside.

"roland!" she whispered with the loveliest smile surely that ever bedecked the human countenance; wistful, supplicating and tender.

he started back as if he had been shot, and gazed at her with a kind of horror. he did not speak. i expect he could not. passers-by stared at them curiously. irma lowered her head, and slipping her hand inside his arm with affecting confidence, drew him forward away from the stares. still he did not speak. he was oblivious to the passers-by, and to everything else but her. he gazed at her like a man in a trance, his dark eyes full of a passionate hunger. she only spoke once more. raising her eyes to his she moved her lips. i could read them.

"i love you," she whispered.

his lips began to tremble. where were all his proud vows then?

she drew him around the corner into the quieter side street. she was weeping now. when she looked at him i could see the bright drops. they were more potent than any words she could have spoken. roland suddenly came to life. he stopped short, flung an arm around her, turned up her face and kissed her mouth, careless if all new york saw.

so that was all right.

the sight induced me to take the first train out to amityville where i might dine and spend the evening with my dear girl. we were much mystified upon receiving a telegram during the evening signed by my name. to my astonishment i saw english and freer on the train returning from amityville. the explanation of all this was forthcoming in the morning.