ease; and I'll engage your car for the next three or
four days," said Mrs. May to Sealman, suddenly full of kindness for him
and all the world.

Nick sat in the window of a better hotel than Angela's. She had chosen
hers on the advice of a lady in the dining-car, a lovely blonde, _nee_
brunette, who had once enjoyed a honeymoon in Los Angeles, and was now on
her way Nevadaward to get a divorce. Nick had been to Los Angeles before,
and knew where to go without asking advice, though the same lovely lady
would have been enchanted to give him some. Mr. Millard was also in his
hotel, and would not move to Mrs. May's (although it was cheaper), so long
as Nick remained on guard. That was one of the reasons why Nick stayed.
But there were others. His luggage he had wired for, and it would come
back.

He sat by the window, wondering whether Mrs. May would be angry if he
showed himself; or whether, on the principle that a cat may look at a
king, she would consider that he had as much right to be in Los Angeles as
she had.

Then she flashed by in the blue automobile, which was as becoming as she
had expected. Nevertheless, Nick jumped up from the chair in which he had
been lounging, and frowned. "Great guns! If there ain't that bandy-legged,
crop-eared, broken-nosed auto Sealman came to offer Mrs. Gaylor last
winter, and wanted to palm off on me!" he grumbled to himself. "How in
creation did that maverick get hold of Mrs. May? Bet there've been bribes
flyin' around somewhere."

Angela, being on the way back to her hotel from Barrymore's when Nick
caught sight of her, had returned by the time he strolled in to ask if Mr.
Sealman was staying there. Mr. Sealman was not; but the clerk admitted
acquaintance with him.

"I want to know if his car's engaged," began Nick.

Yes, the clerk happened to know that it was engaged for the next three
days, perhaps longer, to a young lady in the hotel who intended to do some
touring in the neighbourhood.

"Contract all fixed up?" asked Nick.

Everything was arranged; had just been settled; in fact, Mr. Sealman had
gone home.

Nick stood still and thought for a moment, looking as sad as if he had
earnestly desired the Model for himself, which was, of course, the
impression conveyed. As he reflected (not so much wondering what he wanted
to do next, as whether the thing he wanted to do would "work") Kate came
down, with a letter in her hand ready to post to Mr. Timothy Moriarty,
White Orch