"That's so, that's so!" he beamed reassured. "Well, sir, it's been fine having you here and any time--day or night--if you want refuge from the stormy blast, just come out to the Sanctuary. We'll always be honored to put you up and give you the best we have for as long as you care to stay. Believe me, Mr. Tompkins, it may seem odd but you'll never find warmer hospitality or a more sincere welcome than right here in this little old asylum." CHAPTER 25 The grill in the Governor Baldwin was not crowded and we had no trouble getting a pleasant table in the corner, while four colored men blew into metal objects, hit things and delivered themselves of various rhythmic noises. From time to time they paused, in order to allow the perspiring couples who jiggled and writhed on the dancefloor time to cool off. While waiting for Emily Post to appear, Arthurjean was very subordinate, calling me "Mr. Tompkins" and acting, quite as the boss's secretary should act when out for dinner with the boss. Merry Vail was in high spirits and insisted on having the deputy who had helped serve the writ join us for a drink. But the deputy was a pallid young man with--he told us--a heart-murmur that kept him out of the armed forces and he never touched anything strong. So we shed him ahead of the time when the nurse from "The Sanctuary" showed up in a slick dancing-dress that seemed painted on her torso and a make-up that was a tribute to the skill of the advertisers of cosmetics. Vail took one look at her and his face lit up like Broadway. "Spring is in the air," he remarked to the world at large. "Will you dance, Miss Post?" She flashed a smile that promised some and hinted at more, and said, "You bet!" I watched them as they took the dance floor and the music took them. I turned back to my secretary. "What gives, angel?" I asked. She beamed at me. "Winnie," she observed, "you're _it_. Perhaps the most famous man in Wall Street, in a quiet way. You caught the market just right. Mr. Wasson and Mr. Cone pulled out just right, before the big operators decided they must be patriotic and support quotations before you made too much money. We've cleaned up nearly three million dollars and Mr. Cone's so happy about it he's got him a brand-new girl-friend." "How about Wasson?" I asked. "Has success gone to his head?" "Oh, he's just the same as ever. He didn't bat an eyelash except to say that you were one wise so-and-so to figure the break." "And how about yourself, Arthurjean?" She grinned at me. "I guess a girl can tell when she's washed up with a swell guy. But you're not Winnie--not the Winnie I knew--and there aren't going to be any fun and games from now on, I guess." She took a hearty pull at her highball.