The stranger did not smile in answer. He simply nodded in a manner betokening his satisfaction, and turned more directly toward Lawrence. "Good!" he said briefly, in that same low tone, which made it impossible for any passer-by to hear him. "The matter is very simple. It will take exactly one week of your time, at the end of which the thousand dollars I shall hand you now will be yours, without further obligation on your part." "You mean to pay me in advance?" Lawrence exclaimed incredulously. "I am obliged to. I think, however, that I may safely leave it to your honor to fulfill the conditions I impose." Barry frowned. The situation was growing more and more puzzling, and verging on the absurd. "And those conditions are?" he questioned. "Simply this," the unknown explained: "If you accept my proposition, you will at once provide yourself with an ample wardrobe, including proper evening clothes—provided, of course, that you are not already so equipped." Barry’s lips twitched as he remembered that empty hall bedroom over near Tenth Avenue, but he made no comment save an understanding nod. "There are shops where a man of taste can obtain these things ready-made," the stranger continued quietly. "I should prefer to have them cut by a good tailor, but there is no time. Having secured the wardrobe—you understand that there must be no stinting in either quality or quantity—I will give you an additional sum for expenses. You will go to the St. Albans Hotel, and engage a suite of rooms. You know the house?" Lawrence shook his head. It seemed that he could not speak. His brain was whirling, and he was beginning to wonder whether it might not be he himself who had taken leave of his senses. One or the other of them must be mad; there could be no doubt of that. "It is on Forty-fifth Street, just west of the avenue." The precise, matter-of-fact tone of his companion’s voice penetrated to Barry’s disordered brain, and again he felt that odd, reassuring sense he had noticed before. "A quiet, high-class house. You will remain there for just one week, beginning to-day. During that week you will dine every night at the Waldorf; lunch each day at the Plaza, the Knickerbocker, Shanley’s, or restaurants of equal standing, and next Tuesday afternoon, at three o’clock, the thousand dollars will be earned." Lawrence sat staring at him, open-mouthed, waiting for him to continue. When it became evident that the little man had nothing more to say, Barry’s eyes threatened to pop out of his head. "Is that all?" he managed to stammer. "Yes." "You don’t want me to do anything but that?" "No." "He is daffy!" Lawrence said to himself decidedly. "There can’t be a doubt of it. He’s probably given his keeper the slip, and is having the time of his life with me."