e. I've named my place the
St. Dunstan, and I'd like you to call there--I remember your favorite
dishes."

"That's very decent of you."

Mr. Wilkins looked frequently toward the entrance, with seeming anxiety.
"I wish the proprietor of this place would come in," he said at last.
"Lieutenant Sommers left me a check on this house for a hundred--Mr.
Sommers roomed here, and left his money with the office. I need the cash
to pay a carpenter who has built an addition for me. Kind of funny to be
worth not a cent less than five thousand gold, in stock and good will,
and be pushed for a hundred cash."

"If you've Mr. Sommers' check, I'll let you have the money--for St.
Dunstan's sake."

"If you could? Of course, you know the lieutenant's signature?"

"As well as my own. Quite right. Here you are. Where is your
restaurant?"

"You cross the Lunette, turn toward the bay--ask anybody. Hope to see
you soon. Good day."

Some officers called on Carrington, as they had been told to do by the
absent Sommers. When introductions were over, one of them handed a paper
to Carrington, saying gravely: "Sommers told me to give this to you. It
was published in San Francisco the day after you left, and reached here
while you were in Japan."

What Carrington saw was a San Francisco newspaper story of his encounter
with the Palace Hotel detective, an account of his famous dinner at the
St. Dunstan, some selections of his other college pranks, allusion to
the fact that he was a classmate of two San Franciscans, Messrs. Thorpe
and Culver, the whole illustrated with pictures of Carrington and
Presidio--the latter taken from the rogues' gallery. "Very pretty, very
pretty, indeed," murmured Carrington, his eyes lingering with thoughtful
pause on the picture of Presidio. "Could we not celebrate my fame in
some place of refreshment--the St. Dunstan, for instance?"

They knew of no St. Dunstan's.

"I foreboded it," sighed Carrington. He narrated his recent experience
with one James Wilkins, "who, I now opine, is Mr. Presidio. It's not
worth troubling the police about, but I'd give a pretty penny to see Mr.
Presidio again. Not to reprove him for the error of his ways, but to
discover the resemblance which has led to this winsome newspaper story."

The next day one of the officers told Carrington that he had learned
that Presidio and his wife, known to the police by a number of names,
had taken ship the afternoon before.

"I see," remarked Ca