The young would-be bridegroom noted the cold dignity of her measured sentences. There was the thin icy rivulet still between them. “Mark me now,” she said. “There is a working room, and a private secretary (a stenographer, typewriter, and telegraph operator) will attend daily, from nine until six. The telegraph and private telephone wire are connected with my rooms in the ‘Circassia.’ There is a duplicate ’phone joining you with ‘Central,’ for your social use.” Vreeland began to take his cue. “From the café in the Elmleaf, you can have morning service, and be furnished such entertainment as you may wish to give. I presume that you dine at your clubs, or in society. The café accounts will all come to me.” She paused, and studied Vreeland’s face closely. “And, in all this, what am I to do?” he asked bewildered. The Lady of Lakemere laughed gaily at his embarrassment. “You are to move in there, at once. Sign the lease for a year. Bagley will take charge of you. There you are to give a jolly house-warming. Call up all your friends. Do not neglect Merriman, Wiltshire, and Rutherstone. You are to be pretty gay. These gentlemen may even bring some of the ladies who wear diamond garter buckles. So much the better! “When I return to New York, you are to report to me at the ‘Circassia,’ and the serious business of your new life will then begin. The woman whom I will send to you as secretary is thoroughly reliable, and I will answer for her fidelity.” “The woman?” babbled the astounded Vreeland. “Yes! Miss Mary Kelly—a talented young business woman of perfect accomplishment, who represents me.” The voice of the lady was cuttingly clear. “Her slight lameness alone prevents her being placed in some position of the greatest trust. That room only is sacred from all of your rattle-headed social friends. I trust her implicitly.” “I begin to understand you,” gravely said Vreeland. “Under the guise of enjoying my life and living up to my prosperity, I am to hide the momentous secret stock business carried on there.” “Precisely,” soberly said Elaine Willoughby. “The office business below?” he hesitatingly said. “Ah! I have given up months to the study of this new arrangement,” thoughtfully said the Queen of the Street. “You are to be master of your own hours. “Once a day, however, you are to show up at the downtown office. Wyman knows that you will be busied at home a great deal. You will have no awkward questions asked. Endicott will watch the downtown affair.” “The firm signature?” he said. “Will never be used. You will sign ‘Harold Vreeland, Trustee,’ and the securities handled daily will be delivered to me at the ‘Circassia,’ on my list of purchases and sales. Your checks and my daily statements are to correspond.” “In other words, I am, as trustee, your hidden broker?” Vreeland said.