He was awake and dressed before six the next morning, and leaving a note for Mrs. Joyce, set out for California Avenue. On the way he dropped into a cheap cafe and got a breakfast which cost him twenty cents. He enjoyed this keenly, because, as he said, it was in his class and was paid for out of the money his mother had given him for his trophy. All was quiet at the flat, and setting to work on the table with glue and stout cord, he soon had it on its legs. Looking down upon it as a completed job, he marveled at the reverence which his mother seemed to have for it, and his mind reverted to the astounding phenomena which he himself had witnessed over its top. Picking up one of the folded slates, he opened it with intent to see if it held any hidden springs or false surfaces. Out fluttered a folded paper. This he snatched up and studied with interest. It was a peculiar sort of parchment, veined like a bit of corn-husk, and on it, written in delicate and beautiful script, were these words: "_Go to Room 70, Harwood Bldg., to-day. Danger threatens. Altair._" "I wonder who Altair is," he mused, staring at the bit of paper, "and what is the danger that threatens?" While still he stood debating whether to go down-town or to warn his mother, a heavy step on the stairs announced a visitor. The man (for it was plainly the tread of a man, and a fat man) knocked on the door, but did not pause for reply. "Are you there, Lucy?" he called, and came in. Victor faced him with instant resentment of this familiarity. "Who are you? What do you want here?" he demanded. The other, a tall, clumsy, broad-faced individual in costly clothing, seemed surprised and a little alarmed. "I came to see Mrs. Ollnee," he explained. "Who are you?" "I am her son--and I want to know how you dare to push into my mother's house like this!" "My name is Pettus," he answered, pacifically. "No doubt you've heard your mother speak of me." "Oh yes," responded the youth. "I heard Mr. Carew speak of you. You're president of that Transportation Company they're all so wild about." A shade of apprehension passed over Pettus's fat, ugly face. "Carew! You've seen him? I suppose he gave me a bad name? But never mind--where will I find your mother?" Victor didn't like the man, and he remained silent till Pettus repeated his question, then he answered, "I can't tell you where my mother is." "You mean you won't!" "Well, yes, that's what I do mean." Pettus turned away. "I can find her without your aid." "What do you want with her?" "I want a sitting at once!" "You keep away from her!" Victor blazed out. "I don't want her sitting for you. She's mixed up too deeply in your affairs already. Carew said--" "I don't care what Carew said--and I don't care whether you approve of your mother's sitting for me or not. Her controls will decide that question."