let on the private pier at the foot of Eighty-sixth
Street that night. He could not guess what game he might flush, but he
was keen as a bloodhound in the chase.

Meanwhile, Senator Meiklejohn encountered Ronald Tower the moment he
re-entered the palatial club. By this time he seemed to have regained
his customary air of geniality, being one of those rather uncommon men
whose apparent characteristics are never so marked as when they are
acting a part.

"H'lo, Ronnie," he cried affably, "I met Helen as she left for the
theater. She has an inquiring mind, but I headed her off. By the way,
will you be at this luncheon to-morrow?"

"Not I," laughed Tower. "I'm barred. She says I have no head for
business, and some deep-laid plan for filling the family coffers is
in hand."

The Senator obviously disliked these outspoken references to
money-making. He squirmed, but smiled as though Tower had made an
excellent joke.

"Try and get the ukase lifted," he urged. "I want you to be there."

"Nothing doing," and the other grinned. "Helen says I resemble you in
everything but brain power, Senator. I'm a good-looker as a husband, but
a poor mutt in Wall Street."

They laughed at the conceit. The two men were curiously alike in face
and figure, though a close observer like Clancy would have classed them
as opposite as the poles in character and temperament. Meiklejohn's
features were cast in the stronger mold. They showed lines which Ronald
Tower's placid existence would never produce. The Senator was suave,
too. He seldom pressed a point to the limit.

"Helen's good opinion is doubly flattering," he said. "She is a bright
woman, and knows how to command her friends."

Tower glanced at a clock in the hall.

"Time we were off," he announced. "Come with me. I'm taking Johnny Bell,
I think."

"Sorry. I have an important letter to write. But I'll join before the
crowd cuts in."

The Senator hurried up-stairs. He must take the journey alone, and
snatch an opportunity to attend that mysterious rendezvous while the
_Sans Souci's_ gig was ferrying some of the bridge-players to
the yacht.

Owing to a slight misunderstanding Tower missed the other man, and
traveled alone in his car. On that trivial circumstance hinged events
which not only affected many lives but disturbed New York society more
than any other incident within a decade.

Few among the thousands of summer promenaders who enjoy the magnificent
panorama of the Nort