"Only what I have told you, taken in connection with the circumstance that he is known to be in New York, and that the Maitland heirlooms are tolerably famous--as much so as your careless habits, Dan. Now, a safe deposit vault--" "Um-m-m," considered Maitland. "You really believe that Mr. Anisty has his bold burglarious eye on my property?" "It's a big enough haul to attract him," argued the lawyer earnestly; "Anisty always aims high.... Now, _will_ you do what I have been begging you to do for the past eight years?" "Seven," corrected Maitland punctiliously. "It's just seven years since I entered into mine inheritance and you became my counselor." "Well, seven, then. But will you put those jewels in safe deposit?" "Oh, I suppose so." "But when?" "Would it suit you if I ran out to-night?" Maitland demanded so abruptly that Bannerman was disconcerted. "I--er--ask nothing better." "I'll bring them in town to-morrow. You arrange about the vault and advise me, will you, like a good fellow?" "Bless my soul! I never dreamed that you would be so--so--" "Amenable to discipline?" Maitland grinned, boylike, and, leaning back, appreciated Bannerman's startled expression with keen enjoyment. "Well, consider that for once you've scared me. I'm off--just time to catch the ten-twenty for Greenfields. Waiter!" He scrawled his initials at the bottom of the bill presented him, and rose. "Sorry, Bannerman," he said, chuckling, "to cut short a pleasant evening. But you shouldn't startle me so, you know. Pardon me if I run; I _might_ miss that train." "But there was something else--" "It can wait." "Take a later train, then." "What! With this grave peril hanging over me? _Im_possible! 'Night." Bannerman, discomfited, saw Maitland's shoulders disappear through the dining-room doorway, meditated pursuit, thought better of it, and reseated himself, frowning. "Mad Maitland, indeed!" he commented. As for the gentleman so characterized, he emerged, a moment later, from the portals of the club, still chuckling mildly to himself as he struggled into a light evening overcoat. His temper, having run the gamut of boredom, interest, perturbation, mystification, and plain amusement, was now altogether inconsequential: a dangerous mood for Maitland. Standing on the corner of Twenty-sixth Street he thought it over, tapping the sidewalk gently with his cane. Should he or should he not carry out his intention as declared to Bannerman, and go to Greenfields that same night? Or should he keep his belated engagement with Cressy's party? An errant cabby, cruising aimlessly but hopefully, sighted Maitland's tall figure and white shirt from a distance, and bore down upon him with a gallant clatter of hoofs. "Kebsir?" he demanded breathlessly, pulling in at the corner. Maitland came out of his reverie and looked up slowly. "Why yes, thank you," he assented amiably. "Where to, sir?"