helpless from the gates which close behind the unwary with a
deadly clang.

Randall Clayton drew back as a stalwart traveler jostled him, only
to spring forward in the ardor of mutual recognition.

"Jack Witherspoon, by all the gods," cried the delighted New
Yorker. "What brings you here?"

"The Chicago Limited, my boy!" coolly answered the jovial Westerner
as he dragged his friend back into the cafe. "I do confess the need
of an 'eye-opener' after my meal of cinders."

In ten minutes Clayton knew all the salient facts of Jack's career.

Their lives had diverged at the college gates, and the bustling
Witherspoon, now the lawyer of a great Michigan railway company,
was on his way to Europe for a six-months' tour.

Clayton's spirits vastly rose in their reminiscent chat, and, in
ten minutes, the two ex-collegians were on their way to Clayton's
apartment. Members of the same fraternity, it was natural that
Witherspoon should gladly accept the offered hospitality of his
old-time comrade,

"I am tied down to business," said Clayton, "but I can put you up
here far better than Room 999 of any Broadway hotel. We can have
our nights together, at least, until the 'Fuerst Bismarck' takes
you out on the blue."

They had returned from a jolly supper, after dismissing the
carriage, and the pipes were lit before Witherspoon found time to
go into his friend's affairs. The memories of old days were still
upon them when the Detroit lawyer, after a close study of his
friend's face, demanded flatly, "And are you satisfied here?"

"You see my surroundings, Jack," replied Clayton. "I've told you
about where I stand."

"But," protested his friend, "your life is too lonely. You know
what a genial circle we have in Detroit. You would have already
risen to be a man of mark among us! And our old set are now rising
to be the men in power. You were easily our leader."

Clayton uneasily replied, for he saw the questioning glances of his
friend's eyes, "I have very little time to throw away. And I have
had Arthur Ferris with me here."

"In your position you should have already married and settled down,"
resolutely contended Witherspoon. "Besides, you'll lose Ferris
soon. He's slated to marry Alice Worthington, I hear."

The smoking-table between them went over with a crash as Clayton
sprang to his feet.

"Impossible!" cried the cashier. "Ferris never told me anything of
it."

"Certainly not," calmly replied Jack Withersp