He sent the club attendant back to the phone with a savage growl and the message to his son to call him up in an hour or to come to the club in person. The attendant crept back with the report that Barnes junior insisted that there could be no delay--that he had a vastly important matter to report on. Old Grim Barnes flung down his cigar, gulped his coffee till he choked and stamped off to the telephone booth. "Well?" he bellowed. --That you, pater--sorry to disturb you, but-- --Of course it's important and no damn nonsense about it, I---- --No, I haven't been arrested and am not in a police station. --Then what the devil---- --No devil, nothing of the sort. On the contrary, quite the opposite! I've called you up to report progress---- --You know better than that, dad. I've only had two drinks. --I'd better take four more and sober up? Now, Father Barnes, will you oblige me by cooling off for an instant? You recall that this afternoon you gave me a year within which to find a wife. Well, I've found one already. --Now you know I'm intoxicated? Was my voice ever soberer--now listen. --You won't listen? But you must. This is all up to you. You commanded. I obeyed. Say, dad, she's an angel. I'm madly in love with her. --Who is she? Well, er, I really don't know--that is, her first name is Sadie. I---- --Sadie what? Sadie Omaha--I mean she lives in Omaha. --What is her last name and who are her people? To tell you the truth I haven't found that out yet. I---- --I'm an ass?--a blankety, blank ass? Just wait till you see her! I met her up at Travers Gladwin's, and---- --Travers is in Egypt! No, yes, of course he is, but---- The final outburst of paternal expletive fairly hurled Whitney Barnes from the phone. "There, by thunder! He's rung off in a rage." "There's the ungrateful parent for you!" he muttered as he made his way back to Gladwin's drawing room. "Here I've gone and broken my neck to fall in love for him and that's all the thanks I get for it. Well, I'll marry her in spite of him, if he doesn't leave me a dollar. I could starve in a garret with her, and if I got too dreadfully hungry I could eat her. Hi, ho! but, say, Mr. Whitney Barnes, you had better switch off some of these lights. This house isn't supposed to be occupied." He left just one heavily shaded bronze lamp abeam. Then he carefully drew all the curtains across the windows and tiptoed about the room with the air of a sinister conspirator. He stopped in front of the great, mysterious-looking chest to one side of the entrance to the hallway, lifted the heavy lid and looked in. "Here's where we will put our dead," he said, with a lugubrious grin, let down the lid softly and crossed abruptly to the roomiest and coziest chair beside the curtained window. After another sweeping glance about the room he stretched his arms and yawned.