“Presently. As I was saying, she would miss the chance of marrying the best man in the world for the sake of taking a rise out of him. Moreover, she comes of old Cavalier stock with an English earldom at the back of it, and she is inordinately proud of the fact; while you--er--you've given me to understand that you are a man of the people, haven't you?” Winton nodded absently. It was one of his minor fads to ignore his lineage, which ran decently back to a Colonial governor on his father's side, and to assert that he did not know his grandfather's middle name--which was accounted for by the very simple fact that the elder Winton had no middle name. “Well, that settles it definitely,” was the Bostonian's comment. “Miss Carteret is of the _sang azur_. The man who marries her will have to know his grandfather's middle name--and a good bit more besides.” Winton's laugh was mockingly good-natured. “You have missed your calling by something more than a hair's-breadth, Morty. You should have been a novelist. Give you a spike and a cross-tie and you'd infer a whole railroad. But you pique my curiosity. Where are these American royalties of yours going in the Rosemary?” “To California. The car belongs to Mr. Somerville Darrah, who is vice-president and manager in fact of the Colorado and Grand River road: the 'Rajah,' they call him. He is a relative of the Carterets, and the party is on its way to spend the winter on the Pacific coast.” “And the little lady in the widow's cap: is she Miss Carteret's mother?” “Miss Bessie Carteret's mother and Miss Virginia's aunt. She is the chaperon of the party.” Winton was silent while the Limited was roaring through a village on the Kansas side of the river. When he spoke again it was not of the Carterets; it was of the Carterets' kinsman and host. “I have heard somewhat of the Rajah,” he said half-musingly. “In fact, I know him, by sight. He is what the magazinists are fond of calling an 'industry colonel,' a born leader who has fought his way to the front. If the Quartz Creek row is anything more than a stiff bluff on the part of the C. G. R. it will be quite as well for us if Mr. Somerville Darrah is safely at the other side of the continent--and well out of ordinary reach of the wires.” Adams came to attention with a half-hearted attempt to galvanize an interest in the business affair. “Tell me more about this mysterious jangle we are heading for,” he rejoined. “Have I enlisted for a soldier when I thought I was only going into peaceful exile as assistant engineer of construction on the Utah Short Line?” “That remains to be seen.” Winton took a leaf from his pocket memorandum and drew a rough outline map. “Here is Denver, and here is Carbonate,” he explained. “At present the Utah is running into Carbonate this way over the rails of the C. G. R. on a joint track agreement which either line may terminate by giving six months' notice of its intention to the other. Got that?”