"I'm sorry," remarked Minot. "Sorry I had the bad taste to say what I have at this time--but if you knew and could understand--which you can't of course-- Yes, let's go back to the hotel--the shortest way." He turned, and looked toward the towers of the De la Pax rising to meet the sky--seemingly a million miles away. So Peary might have gazed to the north, setting out for the Pole. They went back along the ramparts, over the dry moat, through the crumbling gates. Conversation languished. Then the ancient graveyard, ghastly in the gloom. After that the long lighted street of humble shops. And the shortest way home seemed a million times longer than the longest way there. "Considering what you have told me of--Harrowby," she said, "I shall be leaving for the north soon. Will you look me up in New York?" "Thank you," Minot said. "It will be a very great privilege." Cynthia Meyrick entered the elevator, and out of sight in that gilded cage she smiled a twisted little smile. Mr. Minot beheld Mr. Trimmer and his "proposition" basking in the lime-light of the De la Pax, and feeling in no mood to listen to the publicity man's triumphant cackle, he hurried to the veranda. There he found a bell-boy calling his name. "Gen'lemun to see you," the boy explained. He led the way back into the lobby and up to a tall athletic-looking man with a ruddy, frank, attractive face. The stranger held out his hand. "Mr. Minot, of Lloyds?" he asked. "How do you do, sir? I'm very glad to know you. Promised Thacker I'd look you up at once. Let's adjourn to the grill-room." Minot followed in the wake of the tall breezy one. Already he liked the man immensely. "Well," said the stranger, over a table in the grill, "what'll you have? Waiter? Perhaps you heard I was coming. I happen to be the owner of the yacht in the harbor, which somebody has rechristened the _Lileth_." "Yes--I thought so," Minot replied. "I'm mighty glad you've come. A Mr. Martin Wall is posing as the owner just at present." "So I learned from Thacker. Nervy lad, this Wall. I live in Chicago myself--left my boat--_Lady Evelyn_, I called her--in the North River for the winter in charge of a caretaker. This Wall, it seems, needed a boat for a month and took a fancy to mine. And since my caretaker was evidently a crook, it was a simple matter to rent it. Never would have found it out except for you people. Too busy. Really ought not to have taken this trip--business needs me every minute--but I've got sort of a hankering to meet Mr. Martin Wall." "Shall we go out to the boat right away?" "No need of that. We'll run out in the morning with the proper authorities." The stranger leaned across the table, and something in his blue eyes startled Minot. "In the meantime," he said, "I happen to be interested in another matter. What's all this talk about George Harrowby coming back to life?"