one hand it was
extremely trying, and on the other a fascinating and grim study--to
meet people, and find that he could read their minds. Had the war
given him some magic sixth sense, some clairvoyant power, some gift of
vision? He could not tell yet what had come to him, but there was
something.

Business men, halting to chat with Lane a few moments, helped along
his readjustment to the truth of the strange present. Almost all kinds
of business were booming. Most people had money to spend. And there
was a multitude, made rich by the war, who were throwing money to the
four winds. Prices of every commodity were at their highest peak, and
supply could not equal demand. An orgy of spending was in full swing,
and all men in business, especially the profiteers, were making the
most of the unprecedented opportunity.

After he had rested, Lane boarded a street car and rode out to the
suburbs of Middleville where the Maynards lived. Although they had
lost their money they still lived in the substantial mansion that was
all which was left them of prosperous days. House and grounds now
appeared sadly run down.

A maid answered Lane's ring, and let him in. Lane found himself rather
nervously expecting to see Mrs. Maynard. The old house brought back to
him the fact that he had never liked her. But he wanted to see
Margaret. It turned out, however, that mother and daughter were out.

"Come up, old top," called Blair's voice from the hall above.

So Lane went up to Blair's room, which he remembered almost as well as
his own, though now it was in disorder. Blair was in his shirt
sleeves. He looked both gay and spent. Red Payson was in bed, and his
face bore the hectic flush of fever.

"Aw, he's only had too much to eat," declared Blair, in answer to
Lane's solicitation.

"How's that, Red?" asked Lane, sitting down on the bed beside Payson.

"It's nothing, Dare.... I'm just all in," replied Red, with a weary
smile.

"I telephoned Doc Bronson to come out," said Blair, "and look us over.
That made Red as sore as a pup. Isn't he the limit? By thunder, you
can't do anything for some people."

Blair's tone and words of apparent vexation were at variance with the
kindness of his eyes as they rested upon his sick comrade.

"I just came from Bronson's," observed Lane. "He's been our doctor for
as long as I can remember."

Both Lane's comrades searched his face with questioning eyes, and
while Lane returned that gaze there was