g--your whisky. Also, I believe, smoking your cigarettes. Your
servant--admirable fellow, that--absolutely forced them upon us--wouldn't
take 'no.' And indeed, why should we refuse? We have come to offer you
rivers of champagne, cigars of abnormal length, and the lips of the
fairest houris in London. In other words, Sir Frederick Houstley, steel
magnate of Sheffield, is giving a supper party to the world, and our
instructions are to convey you there by force or persuasion, drunk or
sober, sleepy or wide awake."

"I accept your cordial invitation," Wingate said, mixing himself a whisky
and soda. "At what time does the fight commence?"

"Forthwith," Kendrick announced. "We sally forth from here to the
Arcadian Rooms, situated in this building. Afterwards we make merry.
John, my boy," he went on, "you have the air of a man who has drunk deep
already to-night of the waters of happiness. Exactly where did you dine?"

"In Utopia," Wingate answered. "According to you, I am to sup in
fairyland."

"But breakfast," the Honourable Jimmy put in,--"a man ought to be
dashed careful where he breakfasts. A man is known by his breakfast
companions, what?"

"Young fellow," Wingate asked, "where is Sarah?"

"Have no fear," was the blissful reply. "Sarah is coming to the supper.
She's filling her old 'bus up with peaches from the Gaiety. Not being
allowed to sit inside with any of them, I was sent on ahead."

"You dog!" Maurice White exclaimed.

"Dog yourself," was the prompt retort. "Opportunity is a fine thing.
Sometimes I have a gruesome fear that Sarah does not altogether
trust me."

Kendrick, who had been straightening his tie before the glass, now
swung around.

"This way to the lift, boys," he said. "Time we put in an appearance."

The reception room of the Arcadian suite was already fairly well crowded.
Wingate shook hands with his host, a cheery, theatrical-loving soul, and
was presented to many other people. Where he was not introduced he found
a pleasing absence of formality, which facilitated conversation and
rapidly widened his circle of acquaintances. Kendrick came over and
slapped him on the back.

"Wingate, my lad," he exclaimed, "you're going some! You're the bright
boy of the party. Whom are you taking into supper?"

"Me!" said a rather shrill but not unmusical voice from Wingate's side.
"Introduce us, please, Mr. Kendrick. We have been making furtive
conversation for the last five minutes."

"It is a gr