“No; it isn’t that. It’s only a stenographic report of a conversation you and your friend had together in your room, the night you arrived at Mrs. Ralston’s.” “A stenographic report? Nonsense!” Sharply. Gee-gee remembered all about that conversation. “How could you—” “There’s a dictograph in the room you occupied, my dear,” observed the monocle-man. “A dic—” Gee-gee seemed to turn green. “Good Gawd!” she said. * * * * * It wasn’t very long thereafter that Gee-gee and Gid-up departed. “Back to the old life!” said Gee-gee wearily. “And just when I thought my ambition to be a star was coming true.” “Life is sure tough,” observed Gid-up, abandoning her society manner. “I’m sick of the whole thing. Got a mind to jump in the river.” “Gas for me!” from poor Gid-up wearily. “No, you won’t. And I won’t. We’ll just go on. Lord! how long.” “Anyhow, that detective promised to introduce us to a real Russian grand duke who’s in old New York. Maybe we can get in the papers on that.” “Perhaps.” More thoughtfully from Gee-gee. “It wasn’t so worse of the detective to promise that, after he’d got us down and walked on us.” “You must make dukie drink out of your slipper,” suggested Gid-up. “The detective said he was mad after beautiful stage girls. Grand dukes always are.” Hopefully. “And if you do make him do that, it would be heralded from coast to coast.” “It’s as good as done,” said Gee-gee confidently. “It’ll prove me a great actress, sure.” In a brighter tone. “I always said you had talent,” remarked Gid-up. “Cheese it,” retorted Gee-gee elegantly. “Ain’t you the fond flatterer!” “Anyhow, I’m glad I don’t have to do society talk any more,” said Gid-up, and stuck a piece of gum in her mouth. “Yes,” said Gee-gee, “my jaws is most broke.” “Maybe you’d better tighten up your hobble a little for dukie,” suggested Gid-up. “Have to stand still the rest of my life if I did,” observed Gee-gee, swishing along about six inches a step. “You could divide it a little.” “So I could.” By this time they had forgotten about the river, or taking gas. The duke had already become a real person in their lives and they talked on, devising stunts for his Vivacious Greatness. By this time, too, the monocle-man seemed to them a real benefactor. Meanwhile the “real benefactor” had been reading from that stenographic report to Dan and the others. The commodore nearly jumped out of his boots for joy. “Read that again,” he said. The monocle-man, reading: “‘This ain’t half bad enough. You think up something now, Gee-gee.’ “‘Doping a poor little thing is always good stuff to spring on a jury, Gid-up. And you could make yourself up young with your hair done up in a pigtail, with a cute little baby-blue bow on the end.’ “‘But that sounds old, Gee-gee. You can sure invent something new—’” etc., etc.