west of Sixth Avenue."

"Queer kind of place to live, ain't it? There's a corkin' little suite
vacant over at the Regalton. Cheap at the money. Oh!-er-I-er-maybe--"

"Yes; that's it," smiled Banneker. "The treasury isn't up to bachelor
suites, yet awhile. I've only just got a job."

"What is it?"

"Newspaper work. The Morning Ledger."

"Reporting?" A dubious expression clouded the candid cheerfulness of the
other's face.

"Yes. What's the matter with that?"

"Oh; I dunno. It's a piffling sort of job, ain't it?"

"Piffling? How do you mean?"

"Well, I supposed you had to ask a lot of questions and pry into other
people's business and--and all that sorta thing."

"If nobody asked questions," pointed out Banneker, remembering Gardner's
resolute devotion to his professional ideals, "there wouldn't be any
news, would there?"

"Sure! That's right," agreed the gilded youth. "The Ledger's the
decentest paper in town, too. It's a gentleman's paper. I know a feller
on it; Guy Mallory; was in my class at college. Give you a letter to him
if you like."

Informed that Banneker already knew Mr. Mallory, his host expressed the
hope of being useful to him in any other possible manner--"any tips I
can give you or anything of that sort, old chap?"--so heartily that the
newcomer broached the subject of clothes.

"Nothin' easier," was the ready response. "I'll take you right down to
Mertoun. Just one more and we're off."

The one more having been disposed of: "What is it you want?" inquired
Cressey, when they were settled in the taxi which was waiting at the
club door for them.

"Well, what _do_ I want? You tell me."

"How far do you want to go? Will five hundred be too much?"

"No."

Cressey lost himself in mental calculations out of which he presently
delivered himself to this effect:

"Evening clothes, of course. And a dinner-jacket suit. Two business
suits, a light and a dark. You won't need a morning coat, I expect, for
a while. Anyway, we've got to save somethin' out for shirts and boots,
haven't we?"

"I haven't the money with me" remarked Banneker, his innocent mind on
the cash-with-order policy of Sears-Roebuck.

"Now, see here," said Cressey, good-humoredly, yet with an effect of
authority. "This is a game that's got to be played according to the
rules. Why, if you put down spot cash before Mertoun's eyes he'd faint
from surprise, and when he came to, he'd have no respect for you. And a
tailor's respe