"You lose less on nothing than you would if you had something to lose," retorted puss, with a wise air. "Do as I say. Lend me a pair of your boots, a derby hat, and your fur-lined ulster, and wait for me in your apartment. Go at once to the hotel, register, and ask if there are any letters or messages for you, and all will be well. You might register as Horace Vanderpoel, of Cincinnati, or St. Louis, or any other old place at a comfortable distance from New York. Let your luggage precede you." The cat spoke in a masterful tone that inspired confidence. As he delivered his instructions he donned his master's boots and fur-lined overcoat, and then putting the derby hat jauntily upon his head he sauntered forth. "Good-bye, Jack," he said, as he reached the door. "Follow my instructions to the very last detail, and before long you'll be wearing diamonds that will make the average incandescent electric light look like an eclipse." Now Jack was a venturesome youth and ready at all times for any kind of an unusual experience; so, deeply impressed by the mere fact of the cat's having spoken at all, he decided to follow out his instructions to the letter. His five trunks, filled to the brim with papers and bills and any other objects of _virtu_ that came handy, were dispatched at once to the Waldorf, and in about three hours he himself followed them, registering in a large, bold hand as Horace Vanderpoel, of Kansas City, in the hotel book. "I want a suite of five rooms and a bath," said Jack. "Certainly, Mr. Vanderpoel," said the room-clerk, courteously. "We had already made a reservation for you, sir. We will give you suite number forty-two on the first floor." "Good!" said Jack. "I wasn't aware that my coming had been heralded--in fact, I have been wanting to have it kept as quiet as possible. Important negotiations, you know." "We quite understand, Mr. Vanderpoel," said the clerk. "Have any letters or telephone messages been received for me?" Jack demanded. "No letters, sir," replied the clerk, "but--Rockernegie's secretary 'phoned us about an hour ago requesting us to ask you to let him know the minute you arrived--fact is, sir, that is how we came to be on the lookout for you." "Rockernegie, eh?" said Jack, scratching his head with a puzzled air. "Well," he added with a laugh, "I guess he can wait a bit. Have J. W. Midas & Co. rung me up yet?" "Not yet, sir," said the clerk. "Well, I'm going down-stairs to be shaved," said Jack. "If Midas does ring me up let me know." He chuckled as he went down to the barber-shop. "Bill is a great cat," he muttered to himself. "Rockernegie! Gee! Here's hoping he won't forget Midas and Bondifeller." He sat down in the barber's chair and was soon richly lathered. The barber was about to apply the razor, when a small boy clad in a perfect rash of buttons entered the shop. "NUMBER FORTY-TWO, please!" he cried. "Gentleman number FORTY-TWO!"