*CHAPTER XXII.* *THE TOUCH Of COLD STEEL.* The two friends made their way briskly up Madison Avenue to Forty-fifth Street, and thence turned to the left toward Fifth Avenue. At the entrance to the St. Albans they paused a minute, while Jock finished the diverting story he had commenced. "Good, ain’t it?" he chuckled. "Jimmie Toler has the greatest raft of ’em you ever heard. Well, see you around eight or after, I s’pose. S’long." He took a few long strides, and then wheeled around. "Say, you missed the time of your life cutting away early last night, Barry," he called back. "Greatest little queen you ever saw. Miss Rives was her name—Shirley Rives, from Virginia." Lawrence caught his breath swiftly, and took a single, impulsive step toward his friend. But Hamersley had already resumed his chuckling way, and, with a sigh, Barry went into the hotel and up to his rooms. "So that was really her name," he murmured, in a puzzled way, as he was dressing a little later. "I’ll be hanged if I can understand it. The whole business is one too many for me." The problem occupied his mind throughout his entire toilet; and afterward, as he bowled down to the Waldorf, he quite forgot to keep his eyes open for the persistent followers. So he failed to notice that the trailing taxi was conspicuous by its absence. As he ate his oysters, the wonderful, deep eyes of the Southern girl looked at him in spirit from across the table. It seemed impossible that such eyes could be false, yet what else was there for him to believe? Again he saw, as clearly as if he had been gazing on it in the flesh, that bewitching mouth, with the tragic, little droop at the corners of the sensitive lips. How could such lips have voiced the things they had to him, if each word they uttered was a lie? He could not believe it. Suddenly there came to him a conviction that he had been a fool to act as he had last night. There must be something about it all which he could not understand; some mystery which could be explained in a simple, logical way, if only he had the key. And, as he remembered the things he had thought of her, he became ashamed. A flood of crimson surged into his pleasant face at the realization of what a cad he had been. No one had known, to be sure. Happily he had voiced his feelings to no single soul, but he was a cad, nevertheless, unworthy of her friendship. From this moment things would be very different. He would have faith in her, no matter what happened, or how much appearances were against her. When he saw her again—— His heart suddenly sank within him. That was the question. Was he ever going to see her again? Would he ever be given a chance to show what he felt for her? Perhaps his new-found faith had come too late. In this unenviable state of mind he finished his dinner, and left the table.