“Well! wouldn’t that jar you?” cried the girl. But collecting himself, Bill rather enjoyed the impression his Imogene had made. “You’ve paralyzed him sure,” he said, contempt for Alonzo and admiration for the Lady struggling for expression. “Don’t you think it,” she said gaily, giving her pompadour a twist--“but what are we going to do?” “Why, I’ll telephone for the auto and rush him around to the drug store. No, not a doctor--I know how to fix him. A good stiff Hi-lowball”--and Bill winked--“will start his vibrations again.” Then the lovers, momentarily distracted from themselves, resumed where they had left off, and so successfully did Mr. Vanderhook Jr. press his claims that before the auto came smelling around the corner--and while the unconscious Alonzo lay cold and mute--Imogene had received the huge solitaire she had admired so prettily the last time she and Bill passed the Jeweler’s together. Late that night, when Bill slipped noiselessly out of Mrs. Astor’s parlor, a golden hair was curiously entangled in the coils of his cameo shirt-stud. And the Recluse, what of him? What of him who had violated the First Degree? After regaining his equilibrium he withdrew to his father’s house and, locking himself in his apartments, he there remained for one month, during which time he tasted neither food nor drink. CHAPTER III. IN PRIMORDIAL BIOGEN. His penance done, the Mystic of Kankakee presented himself once more at the soda fountain. He was paler, slimmer and altogether more effective than before. He was faultlessly groomed in pearl gray. His head was held high--by an immaculate collar. He was shod in patent leathers, and white spats peeped chastely below his upturned trousers. His gloved hand grasped the middle of a large cane for support. “Do you, William K. Vanderhook, hope or expect to marry Imogene Silesia Sheets?” Young Mr. Vanderhook, who was replenishing the soda fountain, startled for the moment, dropped a large chunk of ice, thereby overturning several bottles of syrup. “If--So--You--Must--Re--lin--quish--Her.” “Now, what are you givin’ me?” growled Bill, as he turned upon his chum, and as he did so snapped the cover of the soda fountain with unnecessary violence. “Merely this,” said Alonzo Leffingwell, slightly raising his monotone,--“You persuaded me to break my vow. You inveigled me into looking upon woman. I had warned you, pleaded with you to let me out of this. You heeded not. I hinted at penalties. You sneered. You did not believe me. You insisted. I yielded. But you have assumed the consequences. You have defied Destiny. But my unsophisticated friend, you have bound yourself to accept the results. You played with Fate. The law is relentless. Rash boy, you have invoked dire karmic consequences.” “Well, what in the name of--the higher foolology--are you driving at?” snapped Bill, quite out of patience.