an fit you out, I dare say," said he. "I--ah--have a coat
in here that I think'll do you. Very nicely.... S'pose you wait here a
moment, and we'll see--what we shall see ..."

He disappeared through a door down the hall, and returned presently,
carrying a black coat of the sort commonly known as a cutaway.

"There's the vest that goes with it, too," said he. "You might as well
have that--though of course Mrs. Garland may have to let it out a
little ..."

The man received the gifts in a somewhat awkward silence. Having eyed
the proffered coat,--which in this dim light appeared to be quite a good
one, newer-looking, indeed, than the one worn at present by the
doctor,--his gaze wandered up and then stealthily away. His air of
hesitancy was a little surprising.

"In the seams, you know," said V.V. "Make it bigger. She'll
understand ..."

Then thanks came from the furry voice, effusive yet somehow rather
sheepish: perhaps the man wasn't as experienced at this sort of thing as
he looked. However, he shambled away with speed, appearing at least to
know that when you had got what you wanted, that, and no other, was the
moment to go.

Far down the corridor of the old hotel, he turned once, looking back
furtively over his shoulder....

Vivian reappeared in his office, to be greeted with a grin by Sam
O'Neill, who, having just thrown his cigar-end into the ruined
fireplace, was ready to go.

"'Nother beggar, hey?"

"No--no ... Oh, no!" said the doctor, hastily. "Just a--ah--sort of a
fellow wanted to see me ..."

He halted in the middle of the room; stood absently pushing back his
hair; and his gaze, turned toward the window, became introspective, a
little dreamy....

"What we were speaking of, Sam.... Just to show you I'm not so
opinionated--so eccentric--as you seem to think. I read a great little
thing the other day.... In a magazine article, it was, describing one of
those so-called public balls--in Chicago, this one was. You know the
sort of thing--an orgy: rounders and roues, young cheap sports, old
rakes, all the demi-monde, rivers of alcohol.... Drunken women kicking
men's hats off and lying where they fell.... Regular bacchanalia. Well,
about one o'clock two men in evening clothes came into the gallery and
stood looking down into that--maelstrom of infamous faces.... Then one
of them said: '_John the Baptist would have 'em all grovelling in three
minutes_' ..."

He had told his story with a certain youthf