He bought a sandwich and coffee at a Childs restaurant. Later,
he went into a drug store and looked up magazine offices in the
telephone book. Then he set out. From _Collier's_ to the _Cosmopolitan_
is many a weary mile. And Jarvis walked it, visiting all the
intervening offices.

In only one case did he get to the editor. Mr. Davis, of _Munsey's_, let
him come in, and was decent to him, promised to read anything he sent in
at once, took his address, and made him feel like a human being. Many a
young writer besides Jarvis has to thank Mr. Bob Davis for just such a
bit of encouragement. For the most part, he saw clerks or secretaries
who made excuses for the editor, took his name and address with the same
old "Come in again." Out in the hot sun the pavement wavered and melted
into hillocks before his dizzy eyes. So he went back to the hot bedroom,
which seemed, all at once, a haven of rest.

He threw himself on the hard bed and was asleep in a second. It seemed
aeons later that he was dragged up from the depths of slumber by
continued pounding on his door. The slattern chambermaid announced that
a gentleman wished to see him. He called to her it must be a mistake. He
didn't know any gentlemen.

"'E h'ast for Jarvis Jocelyn. 'Ere's 'is card," she retorted, opening
the door and marching to the bed with it.

"Richard Strong. Tell him I'm out."

"Hi've already said you was in. Hi see you come hup."

"The devil! Where is he?"

"Coolin' 'is 'eels in the 'all."

"Say I'll be down in a minute. Ask him to wait."

"Hi get you," said she, and clomped out.

Then Jarvis's eye fell on Bambi's letter on his table, unopened. It must
have come the day before, when he was lost in his play. He glanced
through it. At the mention of Strong's visit he frowned. He read that
part twice. There was no doubt of it. Strong had the only chance with
her. He made no secret of his devotion to her, and the probabilities
were that now that he, Jarvis, was out of the way, she would realize how
much she cared for Strong.

"Well, what is, is," he muttered. He'd have no favours from Strong,
though, that was sure.

Twenty minutes later, shaved and dressed, he descended upon his guest,
who sat in torment, on a hall-tree shelf, in Stygian darkness.

"How do you do?" said Jarvis, stiffly. "Sorry to keep you waiting in
this hole of Calcutta."

"How are you, Jocelyn?" said Strong, cordially. "Your wife gave me your
address, and I thought you migh