Minot rose early on Monday morning and went for a walk along the beach. He had awakened to black despair, but the sun and the matutinal breeze elevated his spirits considerably. Where was Allan Harrowby? Gone, with his wedding little more than twenty-four hours away. If he should not return--golden thought. By his own act he would forfeit his claim on Jephson, and Minot would be free to-- To what? Before him in the morning glow the great gray fort rose to crush his hopes. There on those slanting ramparts she had smiled at his declaration. Smiled, and labeled him foolish. Well, foolish he must have seemed. But there was still hope. If only Allan Harrowby did not return. Mr. Trimmer, his head down, breathing hard, marched along the beach like a man with a destination. Seeing Minot, he stopped suddenly. "Good morning," he said, holding out his hand, with a smile. "No reason why we shouldn't be friends, eh? None whatever. You're out early. So am I. Thinking up ideas for the automobile campaign." Minot laughed. "You leap from one proposition to another with wonderful aplomb," he said. "The agile mountain goat hopping from peak to peak," Trimmer replied. "That's me. Oh, I'm the goat all right. Sad old Jenkins put it all over me, didn't he?" "I'm afraid he did. Where is he?" "Ask of the railway folder. He lit out in the night. Say--he did have a convincing way with him--you know it." "He surely did." "Well, the best of us make mistakes," admitted Mr. Trimmer. "The trouble with me is I'm too enthusiastic. Once I get an idea, I see rosy for miles ahead. As I look back I realize that I actually helped Jenkins prove to me that he was Lord Harrowby. I was so anxious for him to do it--the chance seemed so gorgeous. And if I'd put it over--but there. The automobile business looks mighty good to me now. Watch the papers for details. And when you get back to Broadway, keep a lookout for the hand of Trimmer writing in fire on the sky." "I will," promised Minot, laughing. He turned back to the hotel shortly after. His meeting with Trimmer had cheered him mightily. With a hopeful eye worthy of Trimmer himself, he looked toward the future. Twenty-four hours would decide it. If only Allan failed to return! The first man Minot saw when he entered the lobby of the De la Pax was Allan Harrowby, his eyes tired with travel, handing over a suit-case to an eager black boy. What was the use? Listlessly Minot relinquished his last hope. He followed Harrowby, and touched his arm. "Good morning," he said drearily. "You gave us all quite a turn last night. We thought you'd taken the advice you got in the morning, and cleared out for good." "Well, hardly," Harrowby replied. "Come up to the room, old man. I'll explain there."