He went up seven floors, telephoned for the "staff valet," and proceeded to business. There was a period of the wildest activity. At the end of it, the hour being then too late for hope that any expressman would make the train with the trunk, Donald engaged the valet to secure a carriage, take down and check the baggage, get him a ticket and a seat, and be waiting for him with these things at a given point. In such slapdash, inefficient fashion this young man conducted all his personal life. "And mind you see the baggage on the train," he warned the fellow. "This is an important trip." He shot down again, dressed to "kill" the house-party, but lugging a large box, and strode out into the fading sunshine. Before the hotel door, to his surprise, stood Charlie Garrott's borrowed car, empty, and before the car stood Charlie Garrott's borrowed driver, greeting him with all his teeth. "What're _you_ waiting here for?" said Donald, staring. "Goin' to drive you an' Mist' Garrott to the deepo--yessuh! Mist' Garrott tole me to wait right here an' bring you round, suh!" Donald again was rather touched by the thoughtfulness of his friend. Take him all in all, old Charlie was a pretty good fellow. However, he would have ridden down in the hack with the valet, if he had wanted to ride. Of course, he might send the box around by this fellow--but no, if old Charlie was expecting him, that would seem pretty short, particularly as Mrs. Herman's was right on his way. "I'm much obliged to you--er--Eustace--but I'll walk, I guess. I haven't had any exercise to-day." "Boss, he say you mout not ketch yo' train if you was to walk." "Oh, I've got plenty of time for the train--plenty!" said Donald, hastily, and shifted the box to look at his watch again. "I'll leave word for Mr. Garrott myself." "Suh! Thank you kindly, suh!" Donald swung off toward Mrs. Herman's, but three blocks distant. Behind him, unobserved, trailed the old lady's limousine, very slow. When he was still a block from his destination, the hurrying young man was all at once struck with an annoying recollection. "Curses!" he groaned. "I forgot my sweater!" That meant that he would have to go back, without doubt: for the sweater was a brand-new one, of brilliant Australian wool, and specially purchased in New York for the winter-sports. Donald, accordingly, felt unable to linger over his good-bye messages to Charles. He said hurriedly to Mrs. Herman, who opened the door for him: "How-do! Please give this box to Mr. Garrott, and tell him I decided to walk. He'll understand." And on that, he sprang away down the steps, two at a time, and started swiftly back to the Bellingham. But just as he reached the corner, he was suddenly arrested by the sound of his own name, rolling loudly after him down the street. "_Donald! Hi, there! Stop!_"