Arthur Cathewe was a tall, loose-limbed man, forty-two or three, rather handsome, and a bit shy with most folk. Rarely any one saw him outside the club. He had few intimates, but to these he was all that friendship means, kindly, tender, loyal, generous, self-effacing. And Fitzgerald loved him best of all men. It did not matter that there were periods when they became separated for months at a time. They would some day turn up together in the same place. "Why, hello, Arthur!" "Glad to see you, Jack!" and that was all that was necessary. All the enthusiasm was down deep below. Cathewe was always in funds; Fitzgerald sometimes; but there was never any lending or borrowing between them. This will do much toward keeping friendship green. The elder man was a great hunter; he had been everywhere, north and south, east and west. He never fooled away his time at pigeons and traps; big game, where the betting was even, where the animal had almost the same chance as the man. He could be tolerably humorous upon occasions. The solemn cast to his comely face predestined him for this talent. "Well, Fitz, what are you going to do?" "Hewitt, give me a chance. I've been home but a week. I'm not going to dash to the Pole without having a ripping good time here first. Will a month do?" "Oh, the expedition doesn't leave for two months yet. But we must sign the contract a month beforehand." "To-day is the first of June; I promise to telegraph you yes or no this day month. You have had me over in Europe eighteen months. I'm tired of trains, and boats, and mules. I'm going fishing." "Ah, bass!" murmured Cathewe from behind his journal. "By the way, Hewitt," said Fitzgerald, "have you ever heard of a chap called Karl Breitmann?" "Yes," answered Hewitt. "Never met him personally, though." "I have," joined in Cathewe quietly. He laid down the Times. "What do you know about him?" "Met him in Paris last year. Met him once before in Macedonia. Dined with me in Paris. Amazing lot of adventures. Rather down on his luck, I should judge." "Couple of scars on his left cheek and a bit of the scalp gone; German student sort, rather good-looking, fine physique?" "That's the man." "I know him, but not very well." And Cathewe fumbled among the other newspapers. "Dine with me to-night," urged Hewitt. "I'll tell you what. See that Italian over there with the statues? I am going to buy him out; and if I don't make a sale in half an hour, I'll sign the dinner checks." "Done!" "I'll take half of that bet," said Cathewe, rising. "It will be cheap." Ten minutes later the two older men saw Fitzgerald hang the tray from his shoulders and take his position on the corner.