Under these circumstances what can Aleck do--objections to the stranger paying would be useless, and possibly stir up his fighting blood, for men in his condition are exceedingly touchy. He feels an interest in the fellow, since he came to their relief in time of need, so they all enter the vehicle, giving the name of the hotel at which they stop. It chances that Aleck names the Sherman House, and the stranger bursts out with: “My hotel--singular coincidence--something of a pleasure. Glad to know you, sir. Wake me up when we arrive, kindly. Good. Find shares sixteen above par--Hecla two hundred and three. Oceans of money--no cares--a jolly life--see you later perhaps----” And he sleeps the fitful slumber that follows over-indulgence in drink. Aleck manages to settle him in a corner, and seats himself beside the actor, who has been regarding the scene with something like amusement. “Pretty far gone, aint he?” remarks Wycherley. “Disgusting. What a shame; looks like a bright young fellow, too.” “Well-loaded with long green,” asserts the actor. “Excuse me, I don’t quite understand.” “I mean smartly heeled.” “I’m still in the dark.” Wycherley laughs. “I forgot you were from over the border and not up to our professional terms. What I would imply is that he is a man of means, of money.” “How do you know?” “He took the bill from a great roll. The driver’s eyes stuck out of his head at the sight.” “It’s a shame, then, that he puts himself in a condition to be robbed. Judging from his talk I should say he was from the West.” “Singular we should run across so many persons from that quarter. And this isn’t Colorado day, either. There’s the sheriff, then Phœnix, who is wanted out in Denver, and finally this young chap.” “Phœnix! yes, I know him,” utters the man in the corner, as if the name has caught his ear, deaf to all other sounds. “Talk lower, Claude. Where do you put up?” “Oh, I have a room,” carelessly. “Won’t you stay over with me at the Sherman to-night?” “Couldn’t think of it, my dear boy. Very fussy about my quarters; cranky bachelor, you know. Have to be just so.” “Oh, I see! and a room in a hotel is a cheerless waste in comparison. I can see the cozy chair, the papers and magazines at hand, pipes on the tables, in fact, a comfortable _den_.” “That’s it; you just describe the very thing, Aleck. Nothing like home comforts. Only apt to unfit us for the rough experiences of life; that’s the only fault I’ve got to find. Here’s the Sherman--take care of the young chap--and good-night.” CHAPTER XIII. A BACHELOR’S “DEN.” After leaving the Sherman House Wycherley has the driver take him down Michigan Avenue. He produces a cigar, one of Aleck’s choice weeds. Then comes a match.