"Guess I imagined it," he said. "There's a reason! Well, it's early, but I thought I'd drop in for a moment in passing and see what you thought of the alleged battle last night. Hello, Johnson! Heard you were here. Did you go, too?" "Yep," said Johnson Boller, gazing at his old friend and wondering whether Anthony thought he was looking and acting like himself. "It was one grand lemon, Anthony, was it not?" asked Mr. Vining, sprawling comfortably for a stay and pinching the end of his cigarette. Anthony himself settled down in his pet chair for a normal quarter-hour. "It was all of that," he agreed almost cheerfully. "I've seen the so-called Kid in pretty bad form before; he was a howling outrage when he fought Morr two years ago, but last night----" His voiced trailed away oddly and for cause. Wilkins, coming from nowhere in particular, was standing in the corridor. He looked straight at his master and with great meaning, and having caught his attention he rolled his eyes toward David's room and nodded slightly. Again he looked at Anthony, again he nodded; and Anthony rose abruptly. "You--excuse me for a moment, Bob?" he asked, in the same low, husky voice that had afflicted him before this morning. "Wilkins--ah--Wilkins wishes----" He hurried across the room and followed Wilkins as he backed into the shadows of the corridor. "She wishes to see you, sir," the invaluable one whispered. "She rang for me and she says it's urgent." "But----" "I'd go at once, sir!" Wilkins breathed fervently. "I really would, Mr. Fry. She seems in a bit of a temper, if I may say so." Anthony passed him without further comment or protest, and hastened to David's door. Apprehension filled him suddenly, not so much because there was any reason for apprehension as because he was nervous. Anger went up, too, that the wretched girl should have upset the first calm and peaceful moment of the morning, so that it is quite possible that Anthony failed to smile as he entered the chamber. For that matter, Mary was not smiling either. She stood at the foot of the bed, clinging to it, and her bosom heaved and her eyes bored into Anthony Fry. "That--that man!" she whispered quite dramatically. "He is merely an old friend of mine, Miss Mary," Anthony said impatiently. "I have no idea of mentioning your existence, far less of----" "Did your man say _Robert_ Vining?" "Of course." "Is that the Robert Vining of Vining & Dale, lawyers, in Wall Street?" Mary cried softly. "Of course," said Anthony. "It isn't possible that you know him?" "_Know_ him?" Mary echoed wildly. "That's the man I'm going to marry!" CHAPTER IX Crime?