om time to time, like this: 'Poor Kate! Splendid arms, but dope
got her. She took up with Eastern religions after she had her hair
dyed. Got to going to a Swami's joint, and smoking opium. Temple of
the Lotus, it was called, and the police raided it.'

"This was nonsense, of course; the young woman was in the pink of
condition. I let him rave, but I decided that if something didn't
come out for me pretty soon, I'd foot it across Long Island. There
wasn't room enough for the two of us. I got up and took another try
at my car. He hopped right after me.

"'Good car,' he wheezed, 'better than the little Ford.'

"I'd had a Ford before, but so has everybody; that was a safe guess.

"'Still,' he went on, 'that run in from Huntington Bay in the rain
wasn't bad. Arrested for speeding, he-he.'

"It was true I had made such a run, under rather unusual
circumstances, and had been arrested. When at last I heard my
life-boat snorting up the road, my visitor got up, sighed, and
stepped back into the shadow of the trees. I didn't wait to see what
became of him, you may believe. That was visitation number one. What
do you think of it?"

Cavenaugh looked at his host defiantly. Eastman smiled.

"I think you'd better change your mode of life, Cavenaugh. Had many
returns?" he inquired.

"Too many, by far." The young man took a turn about the room and
came back to the fire. Standing by the mantel he lit another
cigarette before going on with his story:

"The second visitation happened in the street, early in the evening,
about eight o'clock. I was held up in a traffic block before the
Plaza. My chauffeur was driving. Old Nibbs steps up out of the
crowd, opens the door of my car, gets in and sits down beside me. He
had on wilted evening clothes, same as before, and there was some
sort of heavy scent about him. Such an unpleasant old party! A
thorough-going rotter; you knew it at once. This time he wasn't
talkative, as he had been when I first saw him. He leaned back in
the car as if he owned it, crossed his hands on his stick and looked
out at the crowd--sort of hungrily.

"I own I really felt a loathing compassion for him. We got down the
avenue slowly. I kept looking out at the mounted police. But what
could I do? Have him pulled? I was afraid to. I was awfully afraid
of getting him into the papers.

"'I'm going to the New Astor,' I said at last. 'Can I take you
anywhere?'

"'No, thank you,' says he. 'I get out when you do.