A fine-looking, well-built young fellow, this Frank--dark-eyed, black-haired, with a wonderfully clean pink but virile complexion that made him physically very attractive. In those Broadway restaurants that have become institutions Francis Wolfe was himself an institution. His debts were discussed as freely as the cost of gasoline. And yet the chorus contingent and their lady friends, consisting of the most beautiful women in all the world, not only preferred, but publicly and on the slightest provocation proclaimed their preference for, Frank Wolfe penniless to almost any one else--short of millions. But if Frank Wolfe was the chorus-girls' pet, Mr. Francis Wolfe was the only brother of Mrs. John Burt and Mrs. Sydney Walsingham, and favorite nephew of old Mrs. Stimson. And everybody knew what that meant! J. Willoughby Parkhurst left them alone, even if he was a reporter. “If you do not mind talking business,” said Jerningham, with a deprecatory smile. “Not at all,” eagerly said young Wolfe, who was consumed by curiosity to listen to the golden statistics. “In fact,” he added, with a burst of boyish candor, “I'd be glad to have you.” “You are a nice boy!” said Jemingham, so gratefully and non-familiarly that Frank could not find fault with him. “I need a friend,” continued Jerningham. “I know friendship cannot be bought. It grows--but there must be a seed. It may be that after you know me better you will give me your friendship. That is for the future. I also need a man! A man whom I can trust! A man, young Mr. Francis Wolfe,” he said, with a sternness that impressed young Mr. Francis Wolfe, “who will not laugh at me!” Frank was not an intellectual giant, but neither was he an utter ass. He said, very seriously, “Go on!” “I am willing to pay such a man twenty-five thousand a year--” He paused and almost frowned. “Go on!” again said young Mr. Wolfe, looking the Klondiker straight in the eyes. “Twenty-five thousand dollars--to begin with!” “Yes?” said young Mr. Wolfe, quite calmly. “The duties of such a man--and keep in mind I mean a man when I say a man!--entail nothing whatever of a menial or dishonorable character; nothing to which a gentleman could possibly object. But it would necessitate a certain spirit of good-will toward me. I am not only willing, but even anxious, to pay twenty-five thousand dollars a year, and all traveling expenses, to a clean-minded young man who, for all his wild-oat sowing, is a gentleman and will learn to like me enough not to laugh at me when I intrust him with the secret desire of my heart.” Before Frank's thoughts could crystallize into the definite suspicion that Jerningham wanted to be helped to climb socially, Jemingham went on so coldly that again young Wolfe was impressed: