“And you play chess. There is a box of chess—échecs we call it in France, you will remember. I too play ze game. Don Manuel and I used to spend many hours over ze board. After I have had my breakfast, I, Pierre Luzon, challenge you to one game of chess.” “Be it so,” laughed Dick. “But you must be hungry, man. For heaven’s sake go and eat. We’ll yarn later on. Meanwhile, I’ll have a glance through the newspapers.” Dick handled the newspapers with renewed surprise—the very New York papers he was accustomed to receive regularly, also the old familiar. Times Weekly from London and the Paris Figaro to which he had subscribed ever since the old Quartier Latin days! The same with the magazines—all his favorites were on the table. “Well, I’ll be blowed! Is it the guileless Sing Ling whom Don Manuel has been tapping for information? This certainly looks like home,” and again he glanced over the table. He looked at the titles of the books—several of the latest novels, a volume on socialism, another on the history of architecture. “Seems to know my book tastes, too. I won’t be lonesome, that’s certain. Well, I can’t do better than make a start with the newspapers. I’ve fallen quite behind the times.” He stretched himself out on a long rattan chair, and started with a Los Angeles daily. He had read lazily on for nearly an hour, when there came from his lips a little cry of surprise. Starting up into a sitting posture, Dick again perused the paragraph that had excited his special interest. It was an announcement stating that an ideal city was about to be built in the Tehachapi valley, and that a prize of ten thousand dollars was to be awarded to the designer of the best plans for laying out such a town. Reference was made to an advertisement on another page giving the details and the rules of the competition. To this Dick eagerly turned. The advertisement set forth that the model city was to be located somewhere near the centre of San Antonio Rancho, that the land was traversed by the state highway, by two railroads, by two electric power lines and two oil-carrying pipe lines, also the great Owen’s River aqueduct that supplied Los Angeles, some two hundred miles away, with water from the high Sierras. It was further stated that the entire ranch was to be subdivided into small tracts, and that already hundreds of applicants were waiting to make choice of home sites just so soon as the survey work was completed and the land thrown open to selection. The plans required, and for which the prize of ten thousand dollars was offered, were to show the finest landscape effects, the most impressive and convenient location of public buildings, the most attractive ideas for bringing into being a veritable ideal city provided with all the most modern conveniences and sanitary equipment. “By gad, I’d like to have a shot at that,” murmured Willoughby as he lay back in his chair and meditated.