pompous little man, whose fierce
mustache seemed anxious to make up for the lack of hair on his head.

"A bald hero at a summer resort," he commented, "it seems incredible."

"Oh, they think he lost his hair fighting for the flag," she laughed.
"It's winter, and snowing, or I shouldn't dare _lese-majeste_. And--over
here--is the admiral on the veranda, playing it's a quarter deck. And
here the great portrait--Andrew Rutter with a profaning arm over the
admiral's shoulder. The old ladies make their complaints to Mr. Rutter
in softer tones after seeing that picture."

"And this?" asked Magee, moving farther from the group by the fire.

"A precious one--I wonder they leave it here in winter. This is the
admiral as a young man--clipped from a magazine article. Even without
the mustache, you see, he had a certain martial bearing."

"And now he's the ruler of the queen's navee," smiled Magee. He looked
about. "Is it possible to see the room where the admiral plays his
famous game?"

"Step softly," she answered. "In here. There stands the very table."

They went into the small card-room at the right of the entrance to the
office, and Mr. Magee quietly closed the door behind them. The time had
come. He felt his heart sink.

"Well?" said the girl, with an eagerness she could not conceal.

Mr. Magee groped for words. And found--his old friends of the mountain.

"I love you," he cried desperately. "You must believe I want to help
you. It looks rather the other way now, I'll admit. I want you to have
that money. I don't know who you are, nor what this all means, but I
want you to have it. I went up-stairs determined to give it to you--"

"Really." The word was at least fifty degrees below the temperature of
the card-room.

"Yes, really. I won't ask you to believe--but I'm telling the truth. I
went to the place where I had fatuously hid the money--under a brick of
my fireplace. It was gone."

"How terribly unfortunate."

"Yes, isn't it?" Mr. Magee rejoiced that she took so calm a view of it.
"They searched the room, of course. And they found the money. They're on
top now. But I'm going--"

He stopped. For he had seen her face. She--taking a calm view of it? No,
indeed. Billy Magee saw that she was furiously, wildly angry. He
remembered always having written it down that beautiful women were even
more beautiful in anger. How, he wondered, had he fallen into that
error?

"Please do not bore me," she said through her