ound it difficult to explain. He only knew that to-day he
meant to do something definite, something that would settle once for all
the question that filled his mind. But what could he do? That little
point was still unsettled. Knock at the girl's door, pretend that it was
a blunder, and trust to inspiration to discover in the brief encounter
if anything was wrong? Or put money in an envelop and push it under her
door? If he did that, she would probably give the money to Sam, as she
had given him the food.

What to do? Laurie proceeded with his toilet, using the dressing-case
and carefully avoiding the long mirror. He experienced an odd
unwillingness to look into that mirror this morning, based partly on
delicacy--he remembered the nightdress--but more on the fear of
disappointment. If he saw her, it would be an immense relief. If he
didn't, he'd fancy all sorts of things, for now his imagination was
running away with him.

When he was fully dressed he crossed the room in three strides and
stopped before the mirror with a suddenness that checked him half-way in
the fourth.

Miss Mayo's window was open. He could see that. He could see more than
that, and what he saw sent him rushing through the study and out into
the hall of the big apartment building, where he furiously rang the
elevator bell. He had not stopped for his hat and coat, but he had
caught a vision of Bangs's astonished face and half of his startled
exclamation, "What the dev--"

The elevator came and Laurie leaped into it.

"Down," he said briefly.

The operator was on his way up to the twelfth floor, but something in
the expression of his passenger made him change his plans. Also it
accelerated his movements. The car descended briskly to the ground
floor, from which point the operator was privileged to watch the
progress of the temperamental Mr. Devon, who had plunged through the
main entrance of the building and across the square without a word to
the hall attendants, or a backward glance.

As he reached the studio building Laurie recalled himself to a memory of
the conventions. He entered without undue haste, and sought the door of
the waiting lift. It was noon, and an operator he had not seen before
was on duty.

"Top floor," directed Laurie, and stepped into the car. The operator
hesitated. He did not remember this tenant, but he must belong to the
house, as he wore no hat or coat. Probably he was a new-comer, and had
run down-stairs to mail