And that is what Van Squibber did. He went back to his rooms in the Quigmore at once, hastily undressed, and when, an hour later, his man returned with the soda mint drop, he was sleeping peacefully. That night he met Travers at the club reading the _Evening Moon_. "Hello, Van!" said Travers. "Heard the news?" "No. What?" asked Van Squibber, languidly. "Eleanor Huyler has disappeared." "By Jove!" cried Van Squibber, with well-feigned surprise. "I heard the boys crying 'Extra,' but I never dreamed they would put out an extra for her." "They haven't," said Travers. "The extra's about the lion." "Ah! And what's happened to the lion?" cried Van Squibber, nervously. "He's dead. Got loose this morning early, and was found at ten o'clock dying of indigestion. It is supposed he has devoured some man, name unknown, for before his nose was an uneaten patent-leather pump, size 9-3/4 B, and in his throat was stuck the other, half eaten." "Ha!" muttered Van Squibber, turning pale. "And they don't know whose shoes they were?" he added, in a hoarse whisper. "No," said Travers. "There's no clew, even." Van Squibber breathed a sigh of relief. "Robert!" he cried, addressing the waiter, "bring me a schooner of absinthe, and ask Mr. Travers what he'll have." And then, turning, he said, _sotto voce_, to himself, "Saved! And Eleanor is revenged. Van Squibber may have failed, but his patent-leather pumps have conquered." III IN WHICH A MINCE-PIE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR A REMARKABLE COINCIDENCE When Mr. Snobbe sat down after the narration of his story, there was a thunderous outburst of applause. It was evident that the exciting narrative had pleased his fellow-diners very much--as, indeed, it was proper that it should, since it dealt in a veiled sort of way with characters for whom all right-minded persons have not only a deep-seated admiration, but a feeling of affection as well. They had, one and all, in common with the unaffected portion of the reading community, a liking for the wholesome and clean humor of Mr. Van Bibber, and the fact that Snobbe's story suggested a certain original, even in a weak sort of fashion, made them like it in spite of its shortcomings. "Good work," cried Hudson Rivers. "Of course it's only gas in comparison with the sun, but it gives light, and we like it." "And it's wholly original, too, even though an imitation in manner. The real Van Bibber never failed in anything he undertook," said Tenafly Paterson. "I've often wished he might have, just once--it would have made him seem more human--and for that reason I think Tom is entitled to praise." "I don't know about that," observed Monty St. Vincent. "Tom hadn't anything to do with it--it was the dinner. Honor to whom honor is due, say I. Praise the cook, or the caterer." "That's the truth," put in Billie Jones. "Fact is, when this book of ours comes out, I think, instead of putting our names on the title-page as authors, the thing to do is to print the menu."