"The only trouble is, Jim," he said, peering at himself in the glass, "shan't I scare the boy to death directly he sees me? Oughtn't I to give him some sort of warning?" "How? Do you suggest sending him a formal note?" Mr. Crocker surveyed his repellent features doubtfully. "It's a good deal to spring on a kid at one in the morning," he said. "Suppose he has a fit!" "He's far more likely to give you one. Don't you worry about Ogden, dad. I shouldn't think there was a child alive more equal to handling such a situation." There was an empty glass standing on a tray on the dressing-table. Mr. Crocker eyed this sadly. "I wish you hadn't thrown that stuff away, Jim. I could have done with it. I'm feeling nervous." "Nonsense, dad! You're all right! I had to throw it away. I'm on the wagon now, but how long I should have stayed on with that smiling up at me I don't know. I've made up my mind never to lower myself to the level of the beasts that perish with the demon Rum again, because my future wife has strong views on the subject: but there's no sense in taking chances. Temptation is all very well, but you don't need it on your dressing-table. It was a kindly thought of yours to place it there, dad, but--" "Eh? I didn't put it there." "I thought that sort of thing came in your department. Isn't it the butler's job to supply drinks to the nobility and gentry? Well, it doesn't matter. It is now distributed over the neighbouring soil, thus removing a powerful temptation from your path. You're better without it." He looked at his watch. "Well, it ought to be all right now." He went to the window. "There's an automobile down there. I suppose it's Jerry. I told him to be outside at one sharp and it's nearly half-past. I think you might be starting, dad. Oh, by the way, you had better tell Ogden that you represent a gentleman of the name of Buck Maginnis. It was Buck who got away with him last time, and a firm friendship seems to-have sprung up between them. There's nothing like coming with a good introduction." Mr. Crocker took a final survey of himself in the mirror. "Gee I I'd hate to meet myself on a lonely road!" He opened the door, and stood for a moment listening. From somewhere down the passage came the murmur of a muffled snore. "Third door on the left," said Jimmy. "Three--count 'em!--three. Don't go getting mixed." Mr. Crocker slid into the outer darkness like a stout ghost, and Jimmy closed the door gently behind him.