downward he would have cast
in his lot with Jim Coast. Instead, he followed decent inclinations and
found himself at the end of six weeks a part of a group of young
business men who took him home to dine with their wives and gave him the
benefit of their friendly advice. To all of them he told the same story,
that he was an Englishman who had worked in Russia with the Red Cross
and that he had come to the United States to get a job.

It was a likely story and most of them swallowed it. But one clever girl
whom he met out at dinner rather startled him by the accuracy of her
intuitions.

"I have traveled a good deal, Mr. Nichols," she said quizzically, "but
I've never yet met an Englishman like you."

"It is difficult for me to tell whether I am to consider that as
flattery or disapproval," said Peter calmly.

"You talk like an Englishman, but you're entirely too much interested in
everything to be true to type."

"Ah, really----"

"Englishmen are either bored or presumptuous. You're neither. And
there's a tiny accent that I can't explain----"

"Don't try----"

"I must. We Americans believe in our impulses. My brother Dick says
you're a man of mystery. I've solved it," she laughed, "I'm sure you're
a Russian Grand Duke incognito."

Peter laughed and tried bravado.

"You are certainly all in the mustard," he blundered helplessly.

And she looked at him for a moment and then burst into laughter.

These associations were very pleasant, but, contrary to Peter's
expectations, they didn't seem to be leading anywhere. The efforts that
he made to find positions commensurate with his ambitions had ended in
blind alleys. He was too well educated for some of them, not well enough
educated for others.

More than two months had passed. He had moved to a boarding house in a
decent locality, but of the two thousands dollars with which he had
entered New York there now remained to him less than two hundred. He
was beginning to believe that he had played the game and lost and that
within a very few weeks he would be obliged to hide himself from these
excellent new acquaintances and go back to his old job. Then the tide of
his fortune suddenly turned.

Dick Sheldon, the brother of the girl who was "all in the mustard,"
aware of Peter's plight, had stumbled across the useful bit of
information and brought it to Peter at the boarding house.

"Didn't you tell me that you'd once had something to do with forestry in
Russia?"