"Then, with the distinct understanding that this is _sub rosa_--now we _do_ understand each other, don't we?" pleaded Ardmore. "Perfectly, Mr. Ardmore," and the perspiration began to bead the reporter's forehead in his excitement over the impending revelation. "Then you shall know why I feel so bitter about the duke. I assure you that nothing but the deepest chagrin over the matter causes me to tell you what I have never revealed before--not even to members of my family--not to my most intimate friend." "I appreciate all that--" "Well, the fact is--but please never mention it--the fact is that his Grace owes me four dollars. I gave it to him in two bills--I remember the incident perfectly--two crisp new bills I had just got at the bank. His Grace borrowed the money to pay a cabman--it was the very day before he married my sister. Now let me ask you this: Can an American citizen allow a duke to owe him four dollars? The villain never referred to the matter again, and from that day to this I have made it a rule never to lend money to a duke." The reporter stared a moment, then laughed. He abandoned the idea of getting material for a sensational article and scented the possibilities of a character sketch of the whimsical young millionaire. "How about that story that your brother, Samuel Ardmore, is going to marry the chorus girl he ran over in his automobile?" "I hope it's true; I devoutly do. I'm very fond of music myself, and, strange to say, nobody in our family is musical. I think a chorus girl would be a real addition to our family. It would bring up the family dignity--you can see that." "The wires brought a story this afternoon that your cousin, Wingate Siddall--he _is_ your cousin, isn't he--?" "I'm afraid so. What's Siddy's latest?" "Why, it's reported that he's going to cross the Atlantic in a balloon. Can you tell us anything about that, from the inside?" "Well, the ocean is only four miles deep; I'd take more interest in Cousin Siddy's ballooning if you could make it a couple of miles more to the dead men's chests. And now, much as I'd like to prolong this conversation, I've got to eat or I'll miss my train." "If you don't mind saying where you are going, Mr. Ardmore?" "I'd tell you in a minute, only I haven't fully decided yet; but I shall probably take the Sambo Flyer at 9:13, if you don't make me lose it." "You have large interests in Arkansas, I believe, Mr. Ardmore?" "Yes; important interests. I'm searching for the original fiddle of the Arkansaw Traveler. When I find it I'm going to give it to the British Museum. And now you really must excuse me." Ardmore looked the reporter over carefully as they shook hands. He was an attractive young fellow, alert and good humored, and Ardmore liked him, as, in his shy way, he really liked almost every one who seemed to be a human being.