Prentiss had been investigated and his rating obtained. All that Toomey had claimed for him was found to be the truth--he was an indisputable millionaire, with ample means to put through whatever he undertook. The effect of Prentiss's presence was noticeable throughout the town, and innumerable small extravagances were committed on the strength of what was going to happen "when the project went through." But in no person was the change so marked as in Toomey, who felt that he had come into his own at last. As an old and dear friend of Prentiss's his prestige was almost restored. He fairly reeled with success, while, with no one daring to refuse him credit because of the influence he was presumed to exert, he ate tinned lobster for breakfast--to show that he could. If Prentiss suspected that he was being made capital of, exploited and exhibited like a rare bird, there was nothing in his manner to indicate that he entertained the thought. While it was true that his first friendliness towards Toomey never came back, his impersonal, businesslike courtesy in their intercourse was beyond reproach. A report had been current that Kate and "Toomey's millionaire" knew each other--some one in the Prouty House had seen them meet--but as she returned almost immediately to the ranch and had not been in town since, the rumor died for want of nourishment. No one but Mrs. Toomey gave it a second thought. But she gave it many thoughts; it stuck in her mind and she could not get it out. To her, the resemblance between the two was very noticeable, and another meeting with Prentiss made her marvel that no one observed it but herself. In spite of the different spelling of the name, was there, perchance, some relationship? The persistent thought filled her with a vague disquietude. It was so strongly in her mind while they dressed for the affair at the Prouty House that Toomey's conversation was largely a soliloquy. Surveying himself complacently in the glass, it pleased Mr. Toomey to be jocose. "Say, Old Girl, how long will it take you to pack your war-bag when I get this deal pulled off? It's a safe bet that this cross roads can't see me for dust, once I get that commission in my mitt." He turned and looked at her sharply. "What's the matter now, Mrs. Kill-joy? Where's it hurting the worst?" Mrs. Toomey continued to powder the red tip of her nose until it showed pink. "You're about as cheerful as an open grave--takes all the heart out of me just to look at your face. Speak up, Little Sunbeam, and tell Papa what you got on your chest?" Mrs. Toomey laid down the powder puff. "What if there should be some slip-up, Jap? We're letting ourselves in for a dreadful disappointment if we count on it too much." He shook off her hands from his shoulders with an exasperated twitch. "You're the original Death's Head, Dell! Don't you suppose I know what I'm talking about? It'll go through," confidently. "What's made you think it won't?"