fools."

"What's that, young fellow?"

"You love Miss Sherwood, don't you? At least you've the same as told me
that in words, and you've told me that in loud-voiced actions every time
you've seen her."

"Well--what if I do?"

"If you had the clearness of vision that is in the glassy eye of a cold
boiled lobster you would see that she feels the same way about you."

"See here, Larry"--all the boisterous quality had gone from Hunt's
voice, and it was low-pitched and a bit unsteady--"I don't mind your
joshing me about myself or my painting, but don't fool with me about
anything that's really important."

"I'm not fooling you. I'm sure Miss Sherwood feels that way."

"How do you know?"

"I've got a pair of eyes that don't belong to a cold boiled lobster. And
when I see a thing, I know I see it."

"You're all wrong, Larry. If you'd heard what she said to me less than a
year ago--"

"You make me tired!" interrupted Larry. "You two were made for each
other. She's waiting for you to step up and talk man's talk to her--and
instead you sulk in your tent and mumble about something you think she
might have thought or said a year ago! You're too sensitive; you're too
proud; you've got too few brains. It's a million dollars to one that in
your handsome, well-bred way you've fallen out with her over something
that probably never existed and certainly doesn't exist now. Forget it
all, and walk right up and ask her!"

"Larry, if I thought there was a chance that you are right--"

"A single question will prove whether I'm right!"

Hunt did not speak for a moment. "I guess I've never seen my part of it
all in the way you put it, Larry." He stood up, his whole being subdued
yet tense. "I'm going to slide back into town and think it all over."

Larry followed him an hour later, bent on routine business of the
Sherwood estate. Toward seven o'clock he was studying the present
decrepitude and future possibilities of a row of Sherwood apartment
houses on the West Side, when, as he came out of one building and
started into another, a firm hand fell upon his shoulder and a voice
remarked:

"So, Larry, you're in New York?"

Larry whirled about. For the moment he felt all the life go out of him.
Beside him stood Detective Casey, whom he had last seen on the night
of his wild flight when Casey had feigned a knockout in order to aid
Larry's escape from Gavegan. Any other man affiliated with his enemies
Larry would have struck dow