"I suppose Mrs. Kildair wants the whole thing kept quiet," said Gunther, rapping absent-mindedly on the arm of his chair. "Naturally; besides, I promised." "Of course. Well, we’ll begin in a practical fashion. You don’t mind spending a little money, do you?" "I expect to." Gunther rose and went to the telephone booths, where he remained for some time. "Half-past six in my rooms, Ted," he said, returning. "I’ll put you up against the most interesting character in the United States—a real detective. Dress and come over." "But the girls," objected Beecher, remembering their engagement. "The girls can go hang," said Gunther, shrugging his shoulders. "They can always wait half an hour. This is something real." At five o’clock Beecher called on Mrs. Kildair, and found her out, to his considerable vexation. The bell-boy gave him a little note, which he opened and read: DEAR TEDDY: Forgive my breaking my engagement. All sorts of sudden and exciting things have crowded in on me to-day. Come to-morrow for luncheon. RITA. P.S. Remember—nothing public about last night! The prospect of a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Kildair appeased him somewhat, but his anticipations for the afternoon were sorely disappointed, and he started aimlessly back, with a feeling that a great hole had been made in the day. As he reached the corner, a red automobile cut in close to the curb, causing him to step hastily back. Inside he recognized Slade. He watched the red machine come to a stop before Mrs. Kildair’s and then whirl away, after depositing the massive figure of its owner. Beecher, with a little wounded vanity, lingered a moment, hoping to see him reappear; but, as the sidewalk continued empty, he was forced to conclude that he had come by appointment. "She might at least have seen me," he said angrily. "What the deuce has she got to see Slade for?" All at once he perceived that his steps had led him in the general direction of the quarter in which Nan Charters resided, and, as he had come to make an impression on one woman, he soon began to consider transferring his attack on another. Only, he remembered that he had determined to treat Miss Charters with indifference, to correct any erroneous ideas that she might have formed from his previous impulsive conduct. "That’s so," he said, angry now at himself, at her, and at a condition of affairs that left him with an hour of idleness on his hands. "If I call now, she’ll think I’m hot on the trail. I could stop, though, and inquire about her health," he thought, hesitating; "that would seem natural, after last night."