of
making those poor Belgians the excuse for a lot of fraud. Why, I gave
them a beautiful pair of Mr. Rice's shoes, broadcloth tops, you know. I
don't know what he'll say when he finds they're gone; and if he should
ever discover that the Belgians didn't get them after all--well, I'd
never hear the last of it! And you know that Mrs. Van Auken who lives
next door--of course you don't _know_ her; I don't myself; but you know
who she is--well, I saw her handing out one of her husband's race-track
plaid suits. _That_ ought to be easy to trace!"

At every table Mrs. Cane found one or more victims of the fraud, and
little else was talked of wherever she was. When the party finally broke
up she was in a high state of agitation.

"You're all upset, dear," said Mrs. Potter who had come up to her in the
dressing room. "You must let me take you home in my new motor. The ride
will brace you up wonderfully."

"Oh, but that would take you out of your way," remonstrated Mrs. Cane as
unconvincingly as possible.

"But, my dear! What is a block or two to an imported motor?" Mrs. Potter
waved her fat hand deprecatingly. "Nothing; abs'lutely nothing! And
Francois controls that sixty horsepower motor as if it were a Shetland
pony. He's wonderful!"

And thus it happened that Mrs. Cane and Mrs. Rice, and one or two others
who lived in the same neighborhood were handed into Mrs. Potter's
purring limousine by the much-liveried Francois, and rolled off
majestically amid the ten-inch upholstery.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE AUCTIONEER

"I can't understand how any one would DARE to use my name in such an
unwarranted way," murmured Mrs. Cane as the limousine got under way.

"Oh, my _dear_!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter. "They dare do anything these
days. If they have stopped at merely using your name, you are to be
congratulated. They have probably forged your signature and exhibited
your photograph all over town."

The idea was very distasteful to Mrs. Cane. "I should hate to think of
those awful men--they _were_ men, weren't they?"

"I didn't see them myself," replied Mrs. Potter, "but it seems to me
that Celeste said they were boys."

Mrs. Cane started perceptibly. "Boys?" she gasped.

"Why, yes; I'm sure that's what she said," returned Mrs. Potter. "But if
you want to trace them, that silk slumber-robe ought to be a great
help. There isn't another like it in this country. Picked it up in
Paris, you know; soft, clingy silk crepe in larg