ically, it made no pretensions,
its only architectural feature being a domed roof of copper and a
couple of chimney-stacks, from one of which a thin streak of vapor
ascended. A chilling and depressing spectacle was that presented by the
"House in the Middle of the Block," as I mentally christened it, and I
speculated upon the strange offices to which it had been consecrated.

"The Utinam Club," answered my unspoken query. Dr. Magnus had advanced
to my side and stood staring at me through his triple lenses. I
started, involuntarily.

"There! there!" he said, soothingly. "I did not perceive that your
attention was so entirely absorbed. I am honored by your interest--the
Utinam Club, it is my hobby, sir, and one not altogether unworthy of
the consideration of an intelligent man."

"I can quite understand that," said Indiman, who had joined us at the
window. "There is a distinct stimulus to the imagination in the picture
before us. And what a picture!--this eyeless, gray-faced, architectural
monstrosity, crowned with squat, domelike head of coppery red, and set
in that gigantic cadre of fifty-foot masonry! Superb! Magnificent!"

"The honor of your acquaintance--" began Dr. Magnus.

"In two words," interrupted Indiman, smilingly. He made a brief
statement of the circumstances attendant upon the finding of the Yale
latch-key, and the proprietor of the Utinam Club listened attentively.

"I have a passion for the unique," concluded Indiman, "and the Utinam
Club appears to possess claims of unusual merit in that direction. I
own frankly that I am curious as to its object and qualifications for
membership."

"They are quite simple," answered Dr. Magnus. "Indeed, the name of the
club explains its raison d'etre--Utinam, a Latin ejaculation equivalent
to our 'Would to Heaven!' or 'Would that I could be!' To be eligible
for membership in the Utinam Club, one must have had a distinct object
or ambition in life and then have failed to realize it."

"Ah, I begin to understand," murmured Indiman. "An extraordinary basis,
indeed, for a social organization--the lame ducks, the noble army of
the incapables, the gentlemen a main gauche! Pray go on; you interest
me exceedingly."

"We have them all here," answered Dr. Magnus, smiling. "The
unsuccessful author, the business bankrupt, the artist whose pictures
have never reached the line. The touch-stone of failure, you see; the
clubability (odious word!) of our membership is unimpeach