Of all the tainted millionaires who, after years of plundering the widow and the orphan, have devoted the evening of their life to the game of golf, few can ever have been so boisterously exhilarated as was Bradbury Fisher when, two nights later, he returned to his home. His dreams had all come true. He had won his way to the foot of the rain-bow. In other words, he was the possessor of a small pewter cup, value three dollars, which he had won by beating a feeble old gentleman with one eye in the final match of the competition for the sixth sixteen at the Squashy Hollow Golf Club Invitation Tournament. He entered the house, radiant. “Tra-la!” sang Bradbury Fisher. “Tra-la!” “I beg your pardon, sir?” said Vosper, who had encountered him in the hall. “Eh? Oh, nothing. Just tra-la.” “Very good, sir.” Bradbury Fisher looked at Vosper. For the first time it seemed to sweep over him like a wave that Vosper was an uncommonly good fellow. The past was forgotten, and he beamed upon Vosper like the rising sun. “Vosper,” he said, “what wages are you getting?” “I regret to say, sir,” replied the butler, “that, at the moment, the precise amount of the salary of which I am in receipt has slipped my mind. I could refresh my memory by consulting my books, if you so desire it, sir.” “Never mind. Whatever it is, it’s doubled.” “I am obliged, sir. You will, no doubt, send me a written memo, to that effect?” “Twenty, if you like.” “One will be ample, sir.” Bradbury curveted past him through the baronial hall and into the Crystal Boudoir. His wife was there alone. “Mother has gone to bed,” she said. “She has a bad headache.” “You don’t say!” said Bradbury. It was as if everything was conspiring to make this a day of days. “Well, it’s great to be back in the old home.” “Did you have a good time?” “Capital.” “You saw all your old friends?” “Every one of them.” “Did you make a speech at the dinner?” “Did I! They rolled out of their seats and the waiters swept them up with dusters.” “A very big dinner, I suppose?” “Enormous.” “How was the football game?” “Best I’ve ever seen. We won. Number 432,986 made a hundred-and-ten-yard run for a touch-down in the last five minutes.” “Really?” “And that takes a bit of doing, with a ball and chain round your ankle, believe me!” “Bradbury,” said Mrs. Fisher, “where have you been these last two days?” Bradbury’s heart missed a beat. His wife was looking exactly like her mother. It was the first time he had ever been able to believe that she could be Mrs. Maplebury’s daughter. “Been? Why, I’m telling you.” “Bradbury,” said Mrs. Fisher, “just one word. Have you seen the paper this morning?” “Why, no. What with all the excitement of meeting the boys and this and that--” “Then you have not seen that the inauguration of the new Stadium at Sing-Sing was postponed on account of an outbreak of mumps in the prison?” Bradbury gulped.