t answer any questions and put me off, though I'd have
gone out of my way to help him. But after a while he looked out of the
window, phoned for his car and went again, saying he was going down into
Jersey."

"He was sick, perhaps," ventured Peter.

"It was something worse than that, Mr. Nichols. He looked as though he
had seen a ghost or heard a banshee. Then this comes," continued the
broker, taking up a letter from the desk. "Asks for a forester, a good
strong man. You're strong, Mr. Nichols? Er--and courageous? You're not
addicted to 'nerves'? You see I'm telling you all these things so that
you'll go down to Black Rock with your eyes open. He also asks me to
engage other men as private police or gamekeepers, who will act under
your direction. Queer, isn't it? Rather spooky, I'd say, but if you're
game, we'll close the bargain now. Three hundred a month to start with
and found. Is that satisfactory?"

"Perfectly," said Peter with a bow. "When do I begin?"

"At once if you like. Salary begins now. Fifty in advance for expenses."

"That's fair enough, Mr. Sheldon. If you will give me the directions, I
will go to-day."

"To-morrow will be time enough." Sheldon, Senior, had turned to his desk
and was writing upon a slip of paper. This he handed to Peter with a
check.

"That will show you how to get there," he said as he rose, brusquely.
"Glad to have met you. Good-day."

And Peter felt himself hand-shaken and pushed at the same time, reaching
the outer office, mentally out of breath from the sudden, swift movement
of his fortunes. Sheldon, Senior, had not meant to be abrupt. He was
merely a business man relaxing for a moment to do a service for a
friend. When Peter Nichols awoke to his obligations he sought out
Sheldon, Junior, and thanked him with a sense of real gratitude and
Sheldon, Junior, gave him a warm handclasp and Godspeed.

* * * * *

The Pennsylvania Station caused the new Superintendent of Jonathan K.
McGuire to blink and gasp. He paused, suit case in hand, at the top of
the double flight of stairs to survey the splendid proportions of the
waiting room where the crowds seemed lost in its great spaces. In Europe
such a building would be a cathedral. In America it was a railway
station. And the thought was made more definite by the Gregorian chant
of the train announcer which sounded aloft, its tones seeking concord
among their own echoes.

This was the portal to t