e wonderful plans of mine!--the
stuff that dreams are made of. And here I am asking you kindly to find
me a modest house with a modest rental.... And by the way," she added
demurely, "my name is Palla Dumont."

"Thank you," he said smilingly. "Do you care to know mine?"

"I know it. When I came in and told the clerk what I wanted, he said I
should see Mr. Shotwell."

"James Shotwell, Jr.," he said gravely.

"That _is_ amiable. You don't treasure malice, do you? I might merely
have known you as _Mr._ Shotwell. And you generously reveal all from
James to Junior."

They were laughing again. Mr. Sharrow noticed them from his
private office and congratulated himself on having Shotwell in his
employment.

"When may I see a house?" inquired Palla, settling her black-gloved
hands in her black fox muff.

"Immediately, if you like."

"How wonderful!"

He took out his note-book, glanced through several pages, asked her
carelessly what rent she cared to pay, made a note of it, and resumed
his study of the note-book.

"The East Side?" he inquired, glancing at her with curiosity not
entirely professional.

"I prefer it."

From his note-book he read to her the descriptions and situations of
several twenty-foot houses in the zone between Fifth and Third
Avenues.

"Shall we go to see some of them, Mr. Shotwell? Have you, perhaps,
time this morning?"

"I'm delighted," he said. Which, far from straining truth, perhaps
restrained it.

So he got his hat and overcoat, and they went out together into the
winter sunshine.

Angelo Puma, seated in a taxi across the street, observed them. He
wore a gardenia in his lapel. He might have followed Palla had she
emerged alone from the offices of Sharrow & Co.

Shotwell Junior had a jolly morning of it. And, if the routine proved
a trifle monotonous, Palla, too, appeared to amuse herself.

She inspected various types of houses, expensive and inexpensive,
modern and out of date, well built and well kept and "jerry-built" and
dirty.

Prices and rents painfully surprised her, and she gave up any idea of
renting a furnished house, and so informed Shotwell.

So they restricted their inspection to three-story unfurnished and
untenanted houses, where the neighbourhood was less pretentious and
there was a better light in the rear.

But they all were dirty, neglected, out of repair, destitute of decent
plumbing and electricity.

On the second floor of one of these Palla stood, d