George sagged back into the chair as he gloomily interrupted the speaker. "That's all very fine, Simmy, that sort of talk, but I'm not in the mood to listen to it now. I wasn't through telling you about the wedding. Where was I when I stopped? Oh, yes, the scarf-pin. Hey, waiter! Come here a second." A waiter approached. With great solemnity George arose and grasped him by the shoulder, and a moment later had removed the nickel-plated badge from the man's lapel. The waiter was tolerant. He grinned. It was what he was expected to do under the circumstances. But he was astonished by the next act of the tall young man in evening clothes. George proceeded to jam the scarf-pin into the fellow's coat where the badge of service had rested the instant before. Then, with Simmy looking on in disgust, he pinned the waiter's badge upon his own coat. "There!" he said, with a sneer. "That is supposed to make a gentleman of you, and this makes a man of me. On your way, gentleman! I—" "For heaven's sake, George," cried Simmy, arising. "Don't be an ass." He took the tag from Tresslyn's coat and handed it back to the waiter. "Give him the scarf-pin if you like, old man, but don't rob him of his badge of honour. He earns an honest living with that thing, you know." George sat down. He was suddenly abashed. "What an awful bounder you must think I am, Simmy." "Nonsense. You're a bit tight, that's all." He slipped the waiter a bank- note and motioned him away. "Now, let's go home, George." "Yes, sir; he turned and walked out of the room, leaving all of us standing there," muttered George, with a mental leap backward. "I'll never forget it, long as I live. He simply scorned the whole lot of us. I went away as quickly as I could, but the others beat me to it. I left mother and Anne there all alone, just wandering around the room as if they were half-stunned. Never, never will I forget Anne's white, scared face, and I've never seen mother so helpless, either. Anne gripped, that big envelope so tight that it crumpled up into almost nothing. Mother took it away from her and opened it. Nobody was there but us three. I shan't tell you what was in the envelope. I'm not drunk enough for that." "Never mind. It's immaterial, in any event." Simmy had called for his check. George's mind took a new twist. Suddenly he sprang to his feet. "By the way, before I forget it, do you know where I can find Braden Thorpe?" A black scowl disfigured his face. There was an ugly, ominous glare in his fast clearing eyes. Simmy, coming no higher than his shoulder, linked his arm through one of George's and started toward the door with him. He was headed for the porters' entrance. "He's out of town, George. Don't bother about Braden." "I'm going to kill Brady Thorpe, Simmy," said George hoarsely. Simmy felt the big right arm swell and become as rigid as steel. "Don't talk like a fool," he whispered. "He didn't act right by Anne," said George. "He's got to account to me. He's—"