At length the dinner is ended. Aleck presses his companion to relate the stirring scene of the previous night, and is accommodated with a yarn that has many comical features to it, for the actor is a genius in discovering the ridiculous side of anything, though Craig declares he is certain the affair was anything but humorous to those concerned. All the while the Canadian is planning as to how he may make his friend accept a loan, without hurting his feelings. In the end he decides that the best way to do is to go squarely at the matter, in a frank manner. “Since you lost all you had in the fire, Claude, you must allow me to make you a little loan. There, not a word, sir--I shall feel insulted if you refuse”--passing over a fifty-dollar note. Wycherley fumbles the bill with trembling fingers. “Great Heavens, Aleck,” he says huskily, “it’s been many a long day since I’ve held a bill like this in my hands. It makes me feel like something of importance. Bless you, my dear boy. I shall repay it if I live.” Together they leave the dining room. “Try a weed,” proposes Aleck; and as he draws the fragrant smoke Wycherley is fain to believe his morning sacrifice has met with its reward, heaped up and running over. Together they sit in the cool rotunda of the hotel, enjoying their postprandial smoke, and exchanging remarks about various things of mutual interest. While thus engaged a tall gentleman with a gray mustache, and a face on which great shrewdness is marked, saunters past and glances at them. Then he returns and stops. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but the clerk told me Mr. Aleck Craig was over here. Do either of you happen to bear that name?” He looks straight at the Canadian, as though easily picking him out to be the man. “That is my name, sir,” replies Aleck quickly. “I am glad to meet you, Mr. Craig. I have a little business with you. My name is Samson Cereal.” CHAPTER XVI. ENGAGED. It is a name to conjure with in the markets of the World’s Fair city. Besides, this gentleman with the iron-gray mustache is Dorothy’s father. Both Craig and Wycherley spring to their feet. The latter smiles in a peculiar way, as though he sees in this a heaven-sent chance to rise. Perhaps his education in stocks, his enormous wagering against the uncertainties of the market, may meet a reward. Everything comes to those who wait, is the philosophy of this strange adventurer. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Cereal. My friend Wycherley, sir. I have had the pleasure of your daughter’s acquaintance since last winter.” The elderly gentleman smiles. Aleck notes the firm mouth under the mustache, and believes poor Adela will wait a long time ere she hears words of forgiveness for that error so far back in the past, the fearful blunder that ruined her life. Perhaps he does Samson Cereal a wrong, but judging from his strong features he believes him to be a stern man with whom justice goes before mercy.