scribable, multitudinous hum of the city's
blended voices for purring of monster engines, deep in her hold; bold
and high, her restless prow swung seaward in majestic curve, impatient
to beat to open main.

This simple young man actually found impressiveness, glamour, even
beauty, in this eye-filling canvas; the crowding of crashing lights
and interwoven shadows, massed, innumerable, bewildering; the turmoil
of confused and broken line, sprawled with tremendous carelessness for
a giant's delight.

Plainer proof of his utter unsophistication could not be. For it is
traditional with, all "correct" and well-informed folk that New York
is hopelessly ugly. It gives one such a superior air to disprize with
easy scorn this greatest of the Gateways of the World.

Chapter IV

"_A good plot, good friends, and full of expectation:
an excellent plot, very good friends_."

Steve went, not to a theatre, but to bed. In the morning, after a
few inquiries, he sauntered round to get his bearings. He made these
explorations afoot, opining that, at first, the use of street cars or
the "L" would tend to confuse his orientation. He contented himself
with locating 25 Broad Street, without presenting his letter.
Incidentally, he left most of his cash in a safe-deposit drawer.
"For," he mused, "the touching attachment of my open-handed,
prepossessing friend may not always ad-here to the lofty plane
recognized by business ethics. He may, at any time, abandon the
refined and artistic methods of high finance for primitive, crude and
direct means unworthy of his talents. The safe side of a safe is the
inside of a safe."

So back by the water-front, where he spent a pleasant and interesting
forenoon. At one o'clock there were still no signs of Mitchell. So
Steve, Mahomet-like, sought his office.

The _mise-en-scene_ was admirable. A well-littered desk, two 'phones,
code-book, directory, typewriter, file-books, a busy bookkeeper, a
fair stenographer--no detail was omitted. Mitchell, pacing the floor,
paused in his dictation to give him a cheerful greeting.

"Hello, Thompson--up already? Just sit down till I'm through here,
will you? Most done. How'd you like to walk around the docks? That
ought to interest you. All right--thought it would. I've got some
business at No. 4. Make yourself at home. There's the papers--Ready,
Miss Stanley?" Clearing his throat, he put a hand under his coat-tails
and resumed dictation:

"'Melqu