"Well, it's a sort of mental disorder most of us have. We believe everybody above us is incompetent, and everybody below us is after our jobs. You'll get it in time--even some of the Commissioners have it." "It goes without saying that I'd like to be Master of Transportation, but not until you're through." "Well, the old man has had another row with Colonel Jolson, and may not wait for his vacation to quit. I'm promised the vacancy." "Then you have seen the Colonel?" "No--but I have seen Mrs. Cortlandt. I felt I had a right to ask something from her in return for what I did for you. I know that sounds rotten, but you'll understand how it is. Colonel Jolson wants his brother-in-law, Blakeley, to have the place, but I'm entitled to it, and she has promised to fix it for me. If I go up, you go, too; that's why I was worried when this Clifford party appeared." "There IS something, I suppose, I ought to tell you, although it doesn't amount to much. I was mixed up in a scrape the night I left New York. A plain-clothes man happened to get his head under a falling bottle and nearly died from the effects." "What was the trouble?" "It really wasn't the least bit of trouble, it was fatally easy. We were out on a grape carnival, six of us. It was an anti-prohibition festival, and he horned in." "There is nothing else?" "Nothing." "Well, this Clifford party is stopping at the Hotel Central. Better look him over." "I will," said Kirk, feeling more concern than he cared to show, but his apprehension turned out to be quite unfounded. On inspection, Clifford proved to bear no resemblance whatever to Williams, nor did he seem to have any concealed design. He was a good sort, apparently, with a knack of making himself agreeable, and in the weeks that followed he and Kirk became quite friendly. Meanwhile, no word had come from Senor Garavel, and Kirk was beginning to fret. But just as he had reached the limit of his patience he received a note which transported him with joy. Senor Andres Garavel, he read, would be in the city on the following Tuesday evening, and would be pleased to have him call. Even with his recent experiences of Spanish etiquette, Kirk hardly realized the extent of the concession that had been made to him. He knew nothing of the tears, the pleadings, and the spirited championship of his cause that had overborne the last parental objection. It was lucky for him that Chiquita was a spoiled child, and Garavel a very Americanized Spaniard. However, as it was, he went nearly mad with delight, and when Tuesday came round he performed his office-work so badly that Runnels took him to task. "What the devil has got into you the last few days?" he exclaimed, irritably. "I'm going to see a certain party to-night and I can't contain myself. I'm about to blow up. That's all." "Woman, eh?" Kirk grinned. "It has taken months, and I'd begun to think I wasn't wanted. Oh, I've had a battle." "Anybody I know?"