where there's some life. I'll take you. My lunch. Come
along."

Mr. Waddington protested but faintly. He murmured a word of apology to
the _maitre d'hotel_, whom he knew, but Burton had already gone on ahead
and was whistling for a taxi. With a groan, Mr. Waddington noticed
that his hat had slipped a little on one side. There was a distinct
return of his rakish manner.

"The _Milan!_" Burton ordered. "Get along as quick as you can. We are
hungry."

The two men sat side by side in the taxicab. Mr. Waddington watched
his companion in half-pained eagerness. Burton certainly was looking
much more alert than earlier in the morning.

"I tell you money's a great thing," the latter went on, producing a
cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "I don't know why I should
have worried about this little business adventure. I call it a
first-class idea. I'd like to be able to take taxies whenever I wanted
them, and go round to the big restaurants and sit and watch the people.
Come to a music-hall one night, Mr. Waddington, won't you? I haven't
seen anything really funny for a long time."

"I'm afraid I should like to," Mr. Waddington began,--"I mean I should
be delighted."

"What are you afraid about?" Burton asked quickly.

Mr. Waddington mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Burton," he said hoarsely, "I think it's coming on! I'm glad we are
going to the _Milan_. I wish we could go to a music-hall to-night.
That woman was attractive!"

Burton set his teeth.

"I can't help it," he muttered. "I can't help anything. Here goes for
a good time!"

He dismissed the taxi and entered the Milan, swaggering just a little.
They lunched together and neither showed their usual discrimination in
the selection of the meal. In place of the light wine which Mr.
Waddington generally chose, they had champagne. They drank Benedictine
with their coffee and smoked cigars instead of cigarettes. Their
conversation was a trifle jerky and Mr. Waddington kept on returning to
the subject of the Menatogen Company.

"You know, I've three beans left, Burton," he explained, towards the end
of the meal. "I don't know why I should keep them. They'd only last a
matter of seven months, anyway. I've got to go back sometime. Do you
think I could get in with you in the company?"

"We'll go and--Why, there is Mr. Bunsome!" Burton exclaimed. "Mr.
Bunsome!"

The company promoter was just passing their table. He turned around at
the sound of his