It'll be for only a month."

Leaving his trunk, Banneker sallied forth in smiling confidence to
accost and transfer the unsuspecting occupant of his room. To achieve
this, it was necessary only to convince the object of the scheme that
the incredible offer was made in good faith; an apartment in the "swell"
Regalton, luxuriously furnished, service and breakfast included, rent
free for a whole month. A fairy-tale for the prosaic Hainer to be
gloated over for the rest of his life! Very quietly, for this was part
of the bargain, the middle-aged accountant moved to his new glories and
Banneker took his old quarters. It was all accomplished that evening.
The refurnishing was finished on the following day.

"But what are you doing it for, if I may be so bold, Mr. Banneker?"
asked the landlady.

"Peace, quiet, and work," he answered gayly. "Just to be where nobody
can find me, while I do a job."

Here, as in the old, jobless days, Banneker settled down to concentrated
and happy toil. Always a creature of Spartan self-discipline in the
matter of work, he took on, in this quiet and remote environment, new
energies. Miss Westlake, recipient of the output as it came from the
hard-driven pen, was secretly disquieted. Could any human being maintain
such a pace without collapse? Day after day, the devotee of the
third-floor-front rose at seven, breakfasted from a thermos bottle and a
tin box, and set upon his writing; lunched hastily around the corner,
returned with armfuls of newspapers which he skimmed as a preliminary to
a second long bout with his pen; allowed himself an hour for dinner, and
came back to resume the never-ending task. As in the days of the "Eban"
sketches, now on the press for book publication, it was write, rewrite,
and re-rewrite, the typed sheets coming back to Miss Westlake amended,
interlined, corrected, but always successively shortened and simplified.
Profitable, indeed, for the solicitous little typist; but she ventured,
after a fortnight of it, to remonstrate on the score of ordinary
prudence. Banneker laughed, though he was touched, too, by her interest.

"I'm indestructible," he assured her. "But next week I shall run around
outside a little."

"You must," she insisted.

"Field-work, I believe they call it. The Elysian Fields of Manhattan
Island. Perhaps you'll come with me sometimes and see that I attend
properly to my recreation."

Curiosity as well as a mere personal interest prompted her t