For two hours thereafter Roberts worked steadily--until every scrap of correspondence on the desk had been answered or bore memoranda for the instruction of the stenographer on the morrow. At last he took down the 'phone. "Randall? There'll be a carriage call for my baggage shortly. It's all ready. Thanks. By the way, have you that manuscript handy I spoke to you once about? All right. Tuck it in somewhere while you think of it, please. You're still of the same opinion, that it's good; at least worth a hearing? Very well. It'll be published then. I'm accepting your judgment. Never mind how. This is between you and me absolutely. I'm not to figure--ever. If it goes flat he'll have had his chance. That's all any of us can have. By the way, again. I'm sorry to miss Mrs. Randall's dinner-party. I'm not often honored in that way. Anyway, though, perhaps it's as well. I'm impossible socially; and, fortunately, I know just enough to realize it. Yes; that's all. Good-night." Thereafter he waited until he got "Central" on the wire. "Call me at eleven-thirty," he requested. "I'll be asleep, so ring me long and loud. Eleven-thirty sharp, remember, please." He hung up the instrument with a gesture of relief and leaned back in his chair, his great bushy head against the bare oak, his big hands loose in his lap. A half-minute perhaps he sat so--until the eyes slowly closed and, true to his word, and swiftly as a child at close of day, he fell asleep. At eleven o'clock the watchman of the building, noticing the light, came to investigate. A moment he stood in the open door, an appreciative observer. On tiptoe he moved away. "Some one's paying good and plenty for this," he commented _sotto voce_ and with a knowing wag of the head. "The old man's all in--and he isn't doing it for his health alone, you bet!" CHAPTER VII TRAVESTY Out in the street, in front of the Gleason cottage, the red car glistened in the moonlight. In the shade of the familiar veranda Roberts tossed his gauntlets and cap on the floor and drew forth two wicker rocking-chairs where they would catch the slight midsummer night wind. "Hottest night of the season, I fancy," he commented, as he helped his companion remove her dust coat and waited thereafter until she was seated before he took the place by her side. "Old Reliable number two certainly did us a good turn this evening. Runs like an advertisement, doesn't it?" It was a minute before the girl answered. "Yes. It sounds cheap to say so, but at times, like to-night, it almost seems to me Paradise. It makes one forget, temporarily, the things one wishes to forget." "Yes," said her companion. "I suppose people who have been accustomed to luxuries all their lives don't think of it at all; but others--" She was silent.