nse of solidarity
which had so promptly established itself between the two.

His friend laughed also. "Mrs. Culme," he explained, "was lunching at my
uncle's to-day, and she said you were due this evening. But seven hours
is a long time for Mrs. Culme to remember anything."

"Well," said Faxon philosophically, "I suppose that's one of the reasons
why she needs a secretary. And I've always the inn at Northridge," he
concluded.

"Oh, but you haven't, though! It burned down last week."

"The deuce it did!" said Faxon; but the humour of the situation struck
him before its inconvenience. His life, for years past, had been mainly
a succession of resigned adaptations, and he had learned, before dealing
practically with his embarrassments, to extract from most of them a
small tribute of amusement.

"Oh, well, there's sure to be somebody in the place who can put me up."

"No one _you_ could put up with. Besides, Northridge is three miles off,
and our place--in the opposite direction--is a little nearer."
Through the darkness, Faxon saw his friend sketch a gesture of
self-introduction. "My name's Frank Rainer, and I'm staying with my
uncle at Overdale. I've driven over to meet two friends of his, who are
due in a few minutes from New York. If you don't mind waiting till they
arrive I'm sure Overdale can do you better than Northridge. We're only
down from town for a few days, but the house is always ready for a lot
of people."

"But your uncle--?" Faxon could only object, with the odd sense, through
his embarrassment, that it would be magically dispelled by his invisible
friend's next words.

"Oh, my uncle--you'll see! I answer for _him!_ I daresay you've heard of
him--John Lavington?"

John Lavington! There was a certain irony in asking if one had heard of
John Lavington! Even from a post of observation as obscure as that of
Mrs. Culme's secretary the rumour of John Lavington's money, of his
pictures, his politics, his charities and his hospitality, was as
difficult to escape as the roar of a cataract in a mountain solitude.
It might almost have been said that the one place in which one would
not have expected to come upon him was in just such a solitude as
now surrounded the speakers--at least in this deepest hour of its
desertedness. But it was just like Lavington's brilliant ubiquity to put
one in the wrong even there.

"Oh, yes, I've heard of your uncle."

"Then you _will_ come, won't you? We've only five minute