"Why do you ask? And, assuming that I know, why should I tell you, Charlie?" If it had not been that he still smarted under Sally's treatment of him, he would not have gone as far as that. The old dealer with the lined face smiled slowly and with a certain cunning. "Possibly I can answer both questions at once. Conceivably, I can satisfy you. I am her father." CHAPTER XXV Sally and Eugene and Charlie had almost finished breakfast. It was a silent group; Eugene was quiet, for he had not got over the mortification at his miserable failure of the night before, and, besides, the very fact that he was eating breakfast with Sally was enough to make him quiet. Charlie was sulky and morose and penitent. There had been very little said, but that little had been to the point, and Charlie had pleaded _nolo contendere_, which, in this case, was equivalent to a plea of guilty; guilty of the offense as charged and guilty of obtaining money from Patty under false pretenses, although Sally could not find out how much. He would only say that it was not so very much; he could not remember exactly how much. And Sally had promised to give him a reasonable allowance if he would honestly try to keep within it and would give up his bad habits, which would be his unfailing ruin if he kept on. It might be necessary to take him out of college. He was to go home with them and the council of war would decide about that. Charlie seemed somewhat anxious about the composition of that council, although he did not seem to care very much whether he left college or not. As Sally had not decided upon that point, she did not gratify his curiosity. And Charlie had given the required promises. He had even promised more than was required of him, for he agreed to reform permanently. Sally had her doubts about its being permanent. She had seen too much of the effects of the "bug," as Horry Carling had called it. But she could not ask more, and she sighed and expressed herself as satisfied and they went in to breakfast. That incident was closed. Now she was leaning back in her chair, watching the others putting the finishing touches on a rather substantial breakfast. A call-boy was speaking to the head waiter; and that august official came with stately step to Sally's table. "A gen'leman to see Miss Ladue," he announced privately in Sally's ear. Sally looked up in surprise. "To see me?" she asked. "Are you sure? Who is it? Do you know?" "He asked was Miss Ladue staying here, but he didn't give no card and he wouldn't give no name. I could say that you've gone or that we can't find you," the man suggested, "if you don't care to see him." "Oh, no," said Sally, with a quick smile. "I'll see him. He may have come to tell me of a long-lost fortune. But," she added with a puzzled wonder, "I can't imagine who it can be." Eugene got up, pushing aside his coffee. "Let me go, Sally."