. She stood at the station entrance, a tiny figure beside the huge
pillars, looking round her with eager eyes. A wind was whipping down
the avenue. The sky was a clear, brilliant tint of the brightest blue.
Energy was in the air, and hopefulness. She wondered if Mr. Elmer
Mariner ever came to New York. It was hard to see how even his gloom
would contrive to remain unaffected by the exhilaration of the place.

She took Uncle Chris' letter from her bag. He had written from an
address on East Fifty-seventh Street. There would be just time to
catch him before he went out to lunch. She hailed a taxi-cab which was
coming out of the station.

It was a slow ride, halted repeatedly by congestion of the traffic,
but a short one for Jill. She was surprised at herself, a Londoner of
long standing, for feeling so provincial and being so impressed. But
London was far away. It belonged to a life that seemed years ago and
a world from which she had parted for ever. Moreover, this was
undeniably a stupendous city through which her taxi-cab was carrying
her. At Times Square the stream of the traffic plunged into a
whirlpool, swinging out of Broadway to meet the rapids which poured in
from east, west, and north. On Fifth Avenue all the motor-cars in the
world were gathered together. On the pavements, pedestrians, muffled
against the nipping chill of the crisp air, hurried to and fro. And,
above, that sapphire sky spread a rich velvet curtain which made the
tops of the buildings stand out like the white minarets of some
eastern city of romance.

The cab drew up in front of a stone apartment house; and Jill, getting
out, passed under an awning through a sort of mediaeval courtyard, gay
with potted shrubs, to an inner door. She was impressed. Evidently the
tales one heard of fortunes accumulated overnight in this magic city
were true, and one of them must have fallen to the lot of Uncle Chris.
For nobody to whom money was a concern could possibly afford to live
in a place like this. If Croesus and the Count of Monte Cristo had
applied for lodging there, the authorities would probably have looked
on them a little doubtfully at first and hinted at the desirability of
a month's rent in advance.

In a glass case behind the inner door, reading a newspaper and chewing
gum, sat a dignified old man in the rich uniform of a general in the
Guatemalan army. He was a brilliant spectacle. He wore no jewellery,
but this, no doubt, was due to a private