This giant, standing there in sweater and knickerbockers, bareheaded, gazing out at the dark river, was not sentimentalizing. He knew well enough the present problems. But he saw them with half-Eastern eyes; he saw America too, with half-Eastern eyes--and so he could not talk at all to the very able man beside him who saw the West and the world with wholly Western eyes. No, it was futile. Even when the great New Yorker, who had just won two thousand dollars, gold, spoke with wholly unexpected kindness, the gulf between their two minds remained unfathomable. “I want you to forgive me, sir--I do not even know your name, you see--but, frankly, you interest me. You are altogether too much of a man for the work you are doing here. That is clear. I would be glad to have you tell me what the trouble is. Perhaps I could help you.” This from the man who held General Railways in the hollow of his hand, and Universal Hydro-Electric, and Consolidated Shipping, and the Kane, Wilmarth and Cantey banks, a chain that reached literally from sea to sea across the great young country that worshiped the shell of political freedom as insistently as the Chinese worshiped their ancestors, yet gave over the newly vital governing power of finance into wholly irresponsible private hands. The situation, grotesque in its beginning, seemed now incredible to Doane. He drew a hand across his brow; then spoke, with compelling courtesy but with also a dismissive power that the other felt: “You are very kind, Mr. Kane. At some other time I shall be glad to talk with you. But my hours are rather exacting, and I am tired.” “Naturally. You have given a wonderful exhibition of what a man of character can do with his body. I wish I had you for a physical trainer. And I wish the example might start my boy to thinking more wholesomely... Good night!” And he extended a friendly hand. Mr. Kane's boy presented himself on the following morning as an acute problem. He was about the deck, shortly after breakfast, playing with the Manchu child. Then, after eleven, Captain Benjamin handed his mate a note that had been scribbled in pencil on a leaf torn from a pocket note-book and folded over. It was addressed: “To the Chinese Lady who spoke English last night.” And the content was as follows: “I shouldn't have been rude, but I must see you again. Can't you slip around the canvas this evening, late? I'll be watching for you.” There was no signature. “Make it out?” asked the captain. “Old Kang sent it up to me--asks us to speak to the young man. But how'm I to know which young man it is?” “Do you know how it was sent?” “Yes. The little princess took it back.”' “It won't be hard to find the man.” “You know?” “I think so.” “Well, just put him wise, will you?” “I'll speak to him.” “Wait a minute! You thinking of young Kane?” The mate inclined his head. “Well--you know who he is, don't you? Who they are?” Doane bowed again. “Better use a little tact.”