an enterprising Los Angeles newspaper devoted a whole page to the coming event. Adjective was piled on adjective, split infinitive on split infinitive. The dinner was to be given in the ballroom of the hotel.... The bank accounts of the assembled guests would total $400,000,000.... The terrapin had been specially imported from Baltimore.... The decorations were to be magnificent beyond the wildest dream.... The duke was to sit on the right of his hostess.... Mr. Sanderson-Spear, the Pierpont Morgan of Pennsylvania, who would arrive that morning from Pittsburg in his private car, would sit on her left.... Count Boris Beljaski, intimate friend and traveling companion of the grand duke, would appear in the uniform of the imperial guard.... The Baroness Reinstadt was hurrying from San Diego, in her automobile.... As a winter resort, Santa Barbara was, as usual, eclipsing Florida, etc., ... Blakely and I read the paper together; we laughed over it till we cried. "It would be lots funnier if it wasn't my mother who was making such a holy show of herself," Blakely said. "Do you know, my dear--" He was silent for a moment. When he did speak, there was a wicked gleam in his eyes. "By Jove," he cried, "I'll do it!" "Do what?" I asked. "Oh, nothing much. I'll tell you all about it later--if there's anything to tell. Now I must run away. Good-by, dear." Chapter Nine At a quarter to four I received a note from Blakely saying it would be impossible for him to come in to tea as he had planned. It was the first time he had ever broken an engagement with me, and I was a wee bit unhappy over it, though I knew, of course, there must be some good reason why he couldn't come. Still, his absence rather put me out of humor with tea, so I sent Valentine for a box of chocolates. When she returned I sat down with them and a novel, prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon alone. The novel wasn't half as silly as some I've read--the hero reminded me of Blakely--and the chocolates were unusually good; I was having a much better time than I had expected. Then some one knocked at the door. "Bother!" I thought. "It can't be anybody I wish to see; I'll not let them in." The knock, was repeated. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe Blakely had changed his plans and had come for tea after all. "Come in," I called. The door opened slowly, and there, standing on the threshold, was-- Had I gone quite mad? I rose from my chair and stared unbelievingly--at Blakely's mother. "May I come in?" she asked in her even, well-bred voice. "Why--yes," I faltered. Closing the door behind her, she walked over to the fireplace. "Won't you sit down?" I asked. "No, I thank you. This is not an afternoon call, Miss Middleton, it is--But of course you understand." I didn't understand at all, and her manner of saying I did made me furious. "Perhaps I am very stupid," I said, "but I cannot imagine why you are here." "Do you know where my son is?" "I do not."