t to me the grace of its curves in the same tone that one
uses to discuss the masterpiece of a great artist. And then, finding
no echo to his enthusiasm, he suddenly stopped.

"You don't seem to care for it," he said, looking at me.

"That's my fault and not the fault of the cabinet," I pointed out.
"I'm not educated up to it; I'm too little of an artist, perhaps."

He was flushed, as a man might be should another make a disparaging
remark about his wife, and he led the way from the room at once.

"Remember, Lester," he said, a little sternly, pausing with his hand
on the front door, "there is to be no foolishness about securing that
cabinet for me. Don't you let it get away. I'm in deadly earnest."

"I won't let it get away," I promised. "Perhaps it's just as well I'm
not over-enthusiastic about it."

"Let me know as soon as you have any news," he said, and opened the
door for me.

I had intended walking home, but as I turned up the Avenue, I met
sweeping down it a flood of girls just released from the workshops of
the neighbourhood. I struggled against it for a few moments, then
gave it up, hailed a cab, and settled back against the cushions with
a sigh of relief. I was glad to be out of Vantine's house; something
there oppressed me and left me ill at ease. Was Vantine quite normal,
I wondered? Could any man be normal who was willing to pay a hundred
thousand dollars for a piece of furniture? Especially a man who could
not afford such extravagance? I knew the size of Vantine's fortune;
it was large, but a hundred thousand dollars represented more than a
year's income. And then I smiled to myself. Of course Vantine had
been merely jesting when he named that limit. The cabinet could be
bought for a tenth of it, at the most. And, still smiling, I left the
cab, paid the driver, and mounted to my rooms.

CHAPTER IV

THE THUNDERBOLT

It was about eight o'clock that evening that Godfrey tapped at my
door, and when I let him in, I could tell by the way his eyes were
shining that he had some news.

"I can't stay long," he said. "I've got to get down to the office and
put the finishing touches on that story;" but nevertheless he took
the cigar I proffered him and sank into the chair opposite my own.

I knew Godfrey, so I waited patiently until the cigar was going
nicely, then--

"Well?" I asked.

"It's like old times, isn't it, Lester?" and he smiled across at me.
"How many conferences have we had in t