I'll be all right in a
minute."

"D'you want me to go and ring up a nambulance?" said his assistant.

"No, no," said Aubrey; "I'll be all right." He staggered to his feet
and clung to the rail of the bridge, trying to collect his wits. One
phrase ran over and over in his mind with damnable iteration--"Mild,
but they satisfy!"

"Where were you going?" said the other, supporting him.

"Madison Avenue and Thirty-Second----"

"Maybe I can flag a jitney for you. Here," he cried, as another
citizen approached afoot, "Give this fellow a hand. Someone beat him
over the bean with a club. I'm going to get him a lift."

The newcomer readily undertook the friendly task, and tied Aubrey's
handkerchief round his head, which was bleeding freely. After a few
moments the first Samaritan succeeded in stopping a touring car which
was speeding over from Brooklyn. The driver willingly agreed to take
Aubrey home, and the other two helped him in. Barring a nasty gash on
his scalp he was none the worse.

"A fellow needs a tin hat if he's going to wander round Long Island at
night," said the motorist genially. "Two fellows tried to hold me up
coming in from Rockville Centre the other evening. Maybe they were the
same two that picked on you. Did you get a look at them?"

"No," said Aubrey. "That piece of sacking might have helped me trace
them, but I forgot it."

"Want to run back for it?"

"Never mind," said Aubrey. "I've got a hunch about this."

"Think you know who it is? Maybe you're in politics, hey?"

The car ran swiftly up the dark channel of the Bowery, into Fourth
Avenue, and turned off at Thirty-Second Street to deposit Aubrey in
front of his boarding house. He thanked his convoy heartily, and
refused further assistance. After several false shots he got his latch
key in the lock, climbed four creaking flights, and stumbled into his
room. Groping his way to the wash-basin, he bathed his throbbing head,
tied a towel round it, and fell into bed.

Chapter VI

Titania Learns the Business

Although he kept late hours, Roger Mifflin was a prompt riser. It is
only the very young who find satisfaction in lying abed in the morning.
Those who approach the term of the fifth decade are sensitively aware
of the fluency of life, and have no taste to squander it among the
blankets.

The bookseller's morning routine was brisk and habitual. He was
generally awakened about half-past seven by the jangling bell