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 as much jack as you are do anything! he exclaimed. Do! Play around with the girls. Go to the movies. Lunch at the Montmartre and bathe at Santa Monica. I'll get you a bid to the Mayfair Club dances. Get drunk: I'll give you my bootlegger's telephone number and the addresses of several hush-houses. You might even put on the nosebag with me a few evenings, if you want to.

I'd like that best of all, Ambrose replied honestly.

Good. Where are you stopping?

The Ambassador.

Well, give me a day or so to think over this machine. After I have sorted out the pieces we can talk it over. Now I'll get a car for you.

Lifting the receiver of his telephone he called the gateman to whom he said: Studio car right away for Mr. Deacon. Ask for it when you go out, he instructed Ambrose. It'll be there. . . . Shaking Ambrose's right hand warmly, Lawrence patted him on the back with his left. Well, old chap, he assured him, you're a wonder and we've got it. We've got IT.

Ambrose hesitated. There's one thing I'd like to ask you, he said diffidently.

Pull the trigger.

I don't know exactly how to explain it, but don't