s always the Salvation Army," laughed Martha.

"Yes, or the Anti-Cigarette Society," he responded lightly.

A porter carrying two large suit-cases, each covered with many foreign
labels, crossed the veranda toward the waiting 'bus at the foot of the
steps. Another man, evidently a valet, followed with more luggage, and
then a tall, distinguished-looking man of uncertain age emerged from the
hotel. He gazed curiously at Martha, but his eyes lighted up with
recognition when they fell upon Clayton.

"Hello, Clayton, what are you doing here?" he inquired loudly.

Clayton looked up with just a shadow of annoyance, but, with the
well-bred air of a gentleman, rose and extended his hand.

"How are you, Gordon?" he said easily. "I haven't seen you since the
Compton breach of promise case."

Gordon winced at the reminder, but gave utterance to a forced laugh.

"You toasted me to a turn that time," he admitted. "Do you know,
Clayton, ever since you had me on the witness stand, I've been wanting
to engage you to handle my own business."

"Thank you," replied Clayton, coldly. "But I don't care for your kind of
business."

"What do you mean?"

"I prefer the kind where there is never a woman in the case."

Gordon laughed again uneasily.

"I can't help it every time a girl takes me seriously. I offered to
settle handsomely then, but like all these women, they think because I'm
rich I am an easy mark. Now, if you'll see me in New York--maybe we can
come to terms."

"I fancy not," replied Clayton, briefly.

Gordon's eyes, even during this brief conversation, had never left
Martha, whose attention was given to her scarabs.

"Deuced pretty girl!" remarked Gordon, quietly, to Clayton. "You might
introduce me."

"Are you leaving the hotel?"

"Yes--in a few minutes."

"Then I've no objection. Miss Farnum, may I present Mr. Sanford Gordon,
of New York?"

"Charmed to meet you, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, extending his hand as
Martha merely bowed. "Sorry I'm leaving the hotel just when I meet the
only interesting person here." Then, aside to Clayton as he bowed to
Martha and passed out of earshot: "Who is she?"

Clayton coughed ominously.

"She is the companion of a Mrs. Kilpatrick."

Gordon's face showed his disappointment.

"Oh, I say," he murmured. "A paid companion? Anyhow, she's deuced
good-looking." He glanced back at Martha, then turned. "See you in New
York, Clayton, and don't forget my offer."

"I didn't