Secretly and subterraneously, I have
had the bottom knocked out from under my feet. Why, God knows! But no
more of that. Some day I will give you my version."

The little man smiled over his butterfly, took out a wallet, something
on the pattern of a fisherman's, and put the new-found specimen into
one of the mica compartments, in which other dead butterflies of
variant beauty reposed.

"So I become a private secretary, till the time offers something
better." Breitmann stared at the sea.

"I am sorry. I wish I could help you. Better let me try." Fitzgerald
stirred his coffee. "You are convinced that there is some cabal
working against you in the newspaper business? That seems strange.
Some of them must have heard of your work--London, Paris, Berlin. Have
you tried them all?"

"Yes. Nothing for me, but promises as thick as yonder sands."

The little man rose, and walked out of the room, smiling.

"Splendid!" he murmured. "What a specimen to add to my collection!"

"Do you know what your duties will be?" Fitzgerald inquired.

"They will consist of replying to begging letters from the needy and
deserving, from crazy inventors, and ministers. In the meantime, I am
to do translating, together with indexing a vast library devoted to
pirates. Droll, isn't it?" Breitmann laughed, but this time without
bitterness.

"It is a harmless hobby," rather resenting Breitmann's tone.

"More than that," quickly; "it is philanthropic, since it will employ
me for some length of time."

"When do they expect you?"

"At half-after ten."

"We'll go up together, then. Did you see the admiral's daughter?"

"A daughter? Has he one?" Breitmann accepted this news with an
expression of disfavor.

"Yes; and charming, I can tell you. It's all very odd. In Paris that
night, they both sat at the next table."

"Why did you not speak to them?"

"Didn't know who they were. The admiral was one of my father's boyhood
friends, and I did not meet them till very recently;" which was all
true enough. For some unaccountable reason, Fitzgerald found that he
was on guard. "I have ordered an open carriage. If you have any
trunks, I can take them up for you."

"It will be good of you."

They proceeded to finish the repast, and then sought the office, for
their reckoning. Later, they strolled toward the water front.
Fitzgerald, during moments when the talk lagged, thought over the
meeting. There was a false ring to it