“Where do you get your similes from, Frank!” laughed Ralston. “I don’t know. But they’re good ones, anyway. Why don’t you get Routh to write a letter, before the thing cools down? It could be in the evening edition, you know. There have been horrid things this morning--allusions--that sort of thing.” “Allusions to what?” asked Ralston, quickly and sharply. “To you, of course--what did you suppose?” “Oh--to me! As though I cared! All the same, if old Routh would write, it would be a good thing. I wish he were going to be at the Van De Waters’ dinner to-night.” “Why? Are you going there? So am I.” “It seems to be a sort of family tea-party,” said Ralston. “Bright’s going, and cousin Katharine, and you and I. It only needs the Crowdies and a few others to make it complete.” “Well--you see, they’re cousins of mine, and so are you, and that sort of makes us all cousins,” observed Miner, absently. “I say, Jack--tell the story at table, just as you’ve told it to me. Will you? I’ll set you on by asking you questions. Stunning effect--especially if we can get Routh to write the letter. I’ll cut it out of a paper and bring it with me.” “You know him, don’t you?” asked Ralston. “Know him? I should think so. Ever since I was a baby. Why?” “I wish you’d go to him this morning, Frank, and get him to write the letter. Then you could take it to one of the evening papers and get them to put it in. You know all those men in Park Row, don’t you?” “Much better than some of them want to know me,” sighed the little man. “However,” he added, his bright smile coming back at once, “I ought not to complain. I’m getting on, now. Let me see. You want me to go to Routh and get him to write a formal letter over his name, denying all the statements made about you this morning. Isn’t that taking too much notice of the thing, after all, Jack?” “It’s going to make a good deal of difference to me in the end,” answered Ralston. “It’s worth taking some trouble for.” “I’m quite willing,” said Miner. “But--I say! What an extraordinary story it is!” “Oh, no. It’s only real life. I told you--I only had one accident, which was quite an accident--when I tumbled down in that dark street. Everything else happened just as naturally as unnatural things always do. As for upsetting Ham Bright at the club, I was awfully sorry about that. It seemed such a low thing to do. But then--just remember that I’d been making a point of drinking nothing for several days, just by way of an experiment, and it was irritating, to say the least of it, to be grabbed by the arm and told that I was screwed. Wasn’t it, Frank? And just at that moment, uncle Robert had telephoned for me to come up, and I was in a tremendous hurry. Just look at in that way, and you’ll understand why I did it. It doesn’t excuse it--I shall tell Ham that I’m sorry--but it explains it. Doesn’t it?” “Rather!” exclaimed Miner, heartily.