their eyes in the dark and happen to pass me the right name
without meaning it."

"There's some sense to that," admitted the Beauty reflectively.
"You'll get the first wire to-morrow morning, won't you? Just my luck.
It's matinee day and I'd like to see you try it."

"That's all right," said J. Rufus. "I'll have the money to show you as
a surprise at dinner."

The Beauty hesitated.

"I--I'm engaged for dinner to-morrow," she stated, half reluctantly.

He was silent a moment.

"Block? That means supper, too."

"Yes. You see, Jimmy, I've just got to give 'em all a try-out."

"Of course," he admitted. "But he won't do. I'll bet you a box of
gloves against a box of cigars."

"I won't bet you," she replied, laughing. "I've got a hunch that I'd
lose."

CHAPTER XIV

WHEREIN THE BROADWAY QUARTET EVENS UP AN
OLD SCORE

At his hotel the next day, about noon, J. Rufus got the promised wire.
It consisted of only one word: "Razzoo."

Alone, J. Rufus went out to the track, and on the race in which Razzoo
was entered at average odds of ten to one, he got down six hundred
dollars, reluctantly holding back, for his hotel bill, three hundred
dollars--all he had in the world. Then he shut his eyes, and with
large self-contempt waited for Razzoo to finish by lamplight. To his
immense surprise Razzoo won by two lengths, and with a contented
chuckle he went around to the various books and collected his
winnings, handing to each bookmaker derogatory remarks calculated to
destroy the previous _entente cordiale_.

On his way out, puffed with huge joy and sitting alone in the big
automobile, he was hailed by a familiar voice.

"Well, well, well! Our old friend, J. Rufus!" exclaimed Harry Phelps,
he of the natty clothes and the curly hair.

With Mr. Phelps were Larry Teller and Billy Banting and Yap Pickins.

"Jump in," invited J. Rufus with a commendable spirit, forgiving them
cheerfully for having lost money to him, and, despite the growl of
protest from lean Short-Card Larry, they invaded the tonneau.

"You must be hitting them up some, Wallingford," observed Mr. Phelps
with a trace of envy. "I know they're not furnishing automobiles to
losers these days."

"Oh, I'm doing fairly well," replied Wallingford loftily. "I cleaned
'em up for six thousand to-day."

The envy on the part of the four was almost audible.

"What did you play?" asked Badger Billy, with the eager post-mortem
interest of a loser.

"O