two smacks 'll just cost you supper for four. I'm not
sitting behind the bargain-counter to-day, thank you."

A babel of cat-calls, oaths, and laughter broke out, but the tension
had been released and the danger was over. I pushed and jammed through
the crowd to the stairs. No one was attempting to leave; in the hall
they had just got the lights turned on again. I started down.

"Here, you!"

I looked back; the stout man with the disproportionate ears stood at
the head of the stairs, hemmed in by the crowd. He panted and shook his
clinched fist at me. "You!--you!" he shouted, impotently. I ran on.

In the street below Indiman was helping the girl into the coach. He
turned as I ran up.

"Good!" he said, and offered me his cigarette-case.

"The big fellow is coming down," I urged.

"Have a light," said Indiman. "And now, my son, allons!"

I stepped into the coach, and Indiman after me. There was a sound of
angry voices from the hall above; two or three men dashed down the
stairway, others following.

"Drive on!" shouted Indiman, and the carriage started. Then we both
turned and looked blankly at that empty back seat.

Indiman bit his lip. "It is an old trick--leaving by the other door,"
he said, quietly. "It was while we were lighting our cigarettes; and
that reminds me that I have decided to give up the habit." He tossed
his cigarette out of the window; the coach rolled away.

Private business called me to Washington the next day, and I had to
take the night train back, arriving in New York at the uncomfortably
early hour of seven. But it was some small satisfaction to rap
vigorously upon Indiman's door as I passed to my own room. One always
experiences a sense of virtue in being up at unseasonable hours, and
blessings should be shared with one's friends. Later on we met at
breakfast, and he did not thank me.

The following paragraph in the "Personal" column of the HERALD caught
my eye. "Listen to this," I said, and read it aloud to my sulky host:

"'To Mademoiselle D.,--There are ninety-and-nine kisses still due me,
and I propose to collect. Box 90, Herald office (up-town), or telephone
18,901 Madison Square. (Private wire.) "'HOUSE-SMITH.'"

Esper Indiman smiled and touched an electric button. "The letters,
Bolder," he said, but the man had anticipated his request, and was
carrying in a salver heaped high with missives and papers.

"I had the personal put in the HERALD the same night of our adventure