So saying, Mr. Brimberly arose and crossed toward the telephone. But scarcely had he taken three steps when he paused suddenly and stood rigid and motionless, his staring gaze fixed upon the nearest window; for from the shadowy world beyond came a sound, faint as yet and far away, but a sound there was no mistaking--the dismal tooting of an automobile horn. "'Eavens an' earth!" exclaimed Mr. Brimberly, and crossing to the window he peered out. Once again the horn was heard, but very much nearer now, and louder, whereupon Mr. Brimberly turned, almost hastily, and his visitor rose hurriedly. "It's very annoying, Mr. Stevens," said he, "but can I trouble you to--to step--er--down--stairs--_with_ the glasses? It's 'ighly mortifying, but may I ask you to--er--step a little lively, Mr. Stevens?" Without a word, Mr. Stevens caught up the tray from the piano and glided away on his toe-points; whereupon Mr. Brimberly (being alone) became astonishingly agile and nimble all at once, diving down to straighten a rug here and there, rearranging chairs and tables; he even opened the window and hurled two half-smoked cigars far out into the night; and his eye was as calm, his brow as placid, his cheek as rosy as ever, only his whiskers--those snowy, telltale whiskers, quivered spasmodically, very much as though endeavouring to do the manifestly impossible and flutter away with Mr. Brimberly altogether; yes, it was all in his whiskers. Thus did Mr. Brimberly bustle softly to and fro until he paused, all at once, arrested by the sound of a slow, firm step near by. Then Mr. Brimberly coughed, smoothed his winglike whiskers, and--pulled down his waistcoat for the third time. And lo! even as he did so, the door opened, and the hero of this history stood upon the threshold. CHAPTER II OF A MOURNFUL MILLIONAIRE WHO LACKED AN OBJECT Geoffrey Ravenslee was tall and pale and very languid, so languid indeed that the automobile coat he bore across his arm slipped to the floor ere Mr. Brimberly could take it, after which he shed his cap and goggles and dropped them, drew off his gauntlets and dropped them and, crossing to his favourite lounge chair, dropped himself into it, and lay there staring into the fire. "Ah, Brimberly," he sighed gently, "making a night of it?" "Why, sir," bowed his butler, "indeed, sir--to tell the truth, sir--" "You needn't, Brimberly. Excellent cigars you smoke--judging from the smell. May I have one?" "Sir," said Brimberly, his whiskers slightly agitated, "cigars, sir?" "In the cabinet, I think," and Mr. Ravenslee motioned feebly with one white hand towards the tall, carved cabinet in an adjacent corner. Mr. Brimberly coughed softly behind plump fingers. "The--the key, sir?" he suggested. "Oh, not at all necessary, Brimberly; the lock is faulty, you know." "Sir?" said Brimberly, soothing a twitching whisker.