nvince him that the girl
had been more culpable than in the following of her class, known to the
initiate as the "gentle art of gold digging."

"Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my honest
advice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in,' when some one is
sent to prison for this. I am in favor of hushing up this affair, and
want to ease it up for you. Are you wise?"

Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, and with a
coquettish interest in this handsome interviewer--such girls always have
an eye for future business--he returned to her theatrical lodging
house, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe and makeup box when she was
"trouping" in some spangled chorus. Of recent months she had not been
subjected to the Hurculean rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to the
gratuities of the open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remain
out of the white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wisely
felt that the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, to
flutter into certain gardens where he would fain cull rare blossoms! Pat
Cleary deputized a "shadow" to diarize her exits and entrances.

"The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them," soliloquized
Shirley, as he went down the dark stoop. "Now for a little laboratory
work on the wherefore of the why!"

Although long after midnight, he numbered among his acquaintanceship,
many whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His steps led to the
apartment of a certain theatrical manager, whom he found engaged in
a lively tournament of the chips, jousting with two leading men, one
playwright, a composer and a merchant prince. The latter, of course, was
winning. The host, contributing both chips and bottled cheer, was far
from optimistic until the arrival of the club man.

"A live one abaft the mizzen!" exclaimed Dick Holloway, "Here's Shirley
sent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my next month's
rent."

Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he apologetically
declined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a business purpose.

"Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you to look
at business, except to prevent it running you down like a Fourth Avenue
mail bus."

"It is in the interest of science," said Shirley, drawing the manager
aside, "an experiment--"

"Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!"

"But it means money. I am willing