words she
read quickly. With ready wit and only one stealthy glance at the two
men, Grace speedily followed in the wake of the too obsequious porter,
who placed her in a cab.

"To the Astor!" was the transferred instruction. The cabman, quick to
note the ambiguity in the direction given, prepared, with the subtlety
of his kind, for a long drive downtown.

However, the little comedy had not quite escaped attention. There was a
note of banter in the strident voice that again addressed Hugh, the
speaker accompanying it with a resounding slap on the back.

"Congratulations in order, old man? Come--you're caught--own up! Who is
she?" This with a crony-like dig in the ribs. "Runaway match, eh?"

At the other's greeting, Ridgeway promptly assured himself that all was
lost, and was about to return the welcome as best he could, when the
danger in the final words checked him, compelled a subterfuge.

Assuming a stony glare, an unnatural twist of the mouth, the "old man"
turned his bewildered glance upon the speaker, allowing it to resolve
itself into a sickening show of reproachfulness, and said in a voice
that almost made its owner laugh, it was so villainously artificial:

"You have the best of me, sir!"

An amazed expression came over the face of Mr. Woods. His glowing smile
dwindled into an incredulous stare.

"Don't you know me, Hugh?" he finally demanded, half indignantly.

"I do not, sir. My name is not Hugh, by the way. It is evident that you
mistake me for some one else," answered Mr. Ridgeway solemnly and
gutturally.

"Do you mean to say--oh, come now, old man, don't stand up there and try
to make a monkey of me. When did you get in?" cried Woods.

"Pardon me," sharply responded the other, "but I must insist that you
are mistaken. I am Dr. James Morton of Baltimore. The resemblance must
be remarkable."

Woods glared at Hugh, perfectly dumb with amazement. He passed his hand
over his eyes, cleared his throat a time or two, but seemed completely
at a loss for words to express himself.

"Are you in earnest?" he stammered. "Are you not Hugh Ridgeway of
Princeton, ninety--" but Hugh interrupted him politely.

"Assuredly not. Never was at Princeton in my life. Yale. Will you give
me your name and the address of your friend, please? By Jove, I'd like
to hunt him up some time!" Hugh was searching in his pockets as if for a
pencil and memorandum-book and waiting for his old chum to give him
his name.

"Well, o