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 In such a moment as the present the mere recollection of this fatal history was sufficient to considerably raise the spirits of Ambrose Deacon. He faced the prospect of meeting Auburn Six with resignation, if not relief. Something, at least, would be settled definitely today. He would go with her willingly to see Griesheimer and that one, inevitably, would kick him out. Then, conceivably, he might explain to Imperia Starling that he had failed in an alien quarter and be on his way to New Mexico. It seemed a logical theory.

With his coffee something in the nature of cheer arrived in the form of a telegram from Jack Story which read: They must be nearly through with you you poor sap stop expect you any day now. Ambrose fervently hoped this message was prophetic as he crunched his toast Melba.

His chronic perturbation returned redoubled, however, when the complications involved in ordering a taxi occurred to him. If he instructed his valet to attend to this matter, the man would probably retort with surprise that one of Miss Starling's cars was always at Mr. Deacon's disposal. Nor could he telephone for a taxi himself without informing the doorman that he was expecting one. After much agitated cogitation he determined that the better way