It is true that Mrs. Katharine Vreeland, in deepest black, was kneeling silently there at the foot of the coffin, ostentatiously supported by Mrs. Volney McMorris, whose social splendors were judiciously darkened for the time being by bits of crepe, like the veiling of the “bright work” on a fire engine at an old Volunteer Department funeral. “Are there no near family relatives?” asked Alynton, in a muffled voice, as he gazed upon the majestic frame of the man who had fought himself up from disgrace to the Tantalus cup of triumph. It seemed a dreary, a lonely, an unwept taking-off! “It seems not,” guardedly answered the Trust Company’s factotum. “We have his will in charge. The young lady kneeling there will be a large beneficiary, and besides her, there is only one other legatee, who it seems is a ward of Mrs. Elaine Willoughby, the great woman stock operator.” Senator Alynton started in surprise. “As the late Mr. Garston was only a Senator-elect, I presume there will be no Governmental notice taken of his decease. “We look, therefore, to you, Senator Alynton, to Mr. Haygood Apchurch, his old friend (in whose rooms he died) and to these two interested young women beneficiaries, for all directions as to the funeral.” “That is,” hastily added the Trust Company’s Cerberus, “if no swarm of hungry relatives, no duplicate wives nor mysterious claimants turn up when the Associated Press dispatches have been read all over America. “Such things have happened before.” “It seems strange,” mused Alynton, after giving a few brief directions, “that such a man lived and died entirely unloved.” But goaded on by self-interest, he hastened away to the “Circassia,” after vainly telephoning all over New York for Harold Vreeland. The “rising star” was in a dark eclipse! At the Hotel Savoy, the suave head clerk, with a sigh, admitted that the young banker’s habits were now very “irregular.” “He has not been seen to-day. He went out very early,” was the clerk’s report, and he vaguely indicated Vreeland’s principal operations with an upward sweep of his lily-white hand. The clerk was a purist in manner, and only beginning himself to drink secretly. He was not yet in the dark waters! Senator Alynton found Mrs. Elaine Willoughby strictly denied to all visitors. It was to the clear-eyed cripple that he gravely handed his card. “Please say to Mrs. Willoughby that I must see her before Senator Garston’s funeral. I am at the Waldorf, and will come at once on her summons.” On his way to the Belgravia, Senator Alynton read the “copious accounts” in the leading journals. The case seemed to be a clear one. The newspapers confirmed Mr. Haygood Apchurch’s statement that the dead millionaire had borrowed his friend’s apartments to use a couple of weeks in briefing up a great speech upon “the financial situation.” A speech destined never to be delivered!