"What was the old beggar worth? Have you any idea?" "Twenty years ago he was several times a millionaire. What he has done with the money, how he has invested it, I can't say. But he was no spendthrift. There'll be enough to go round, I promise you that." Draining his glass, he added: "I suppose you'll give up this automobile business now, and go back and do some fancy figure skating on Broadway. There's more fun in that, eh?" Tod shook his head. "No--Cooley--you're wrong. Like everyone else, you think I'm crazy for money. But I'm not--honest to God! I've had my fling and I'm through. I'm sick of Broadway, its rotten men and painted women. I'm sick of that idle, stupid existence which stifles every decent impulse a fellow may have. It's always the same, the same crowd, the same drinks and stunts, the same old headache the next morning. I tell you I'm through with that sort of life. I believe I was intended for something better, and, by God, I'm going to make the effort! These last two weeks I've actually respected myself because I've succeeded in making my board bill. Let Jimmy and mater enjoy the money. I want none of it. I tell you I'm going to win out by myself. You see if I don't! Here--have another drink!" The lawyer laughed. This kind of talk from Tod was something entirely new. He wondered how much the champagne was responsible for it. "Shall you go back to New York?" he asked. "Oh, I suppose so," replied Tod carelessly. "I ought to go on general principles. I only came here on a brief visit." "I sail to-morrow on the _Adriatic_," said the lawyer. "Come with me." The young man shook his head. "That's out of the question. I still have some business to attend to. I may go Saturday on the _Touraine_." "Oh, then you'll be right behind me. I'll let them know you're on the way home." "Tell Jimmy not to have all the money spent before I get there," grinned Tod. The lawyer made a move towards the door. "Well-- I must be off. It's late, and I've a lot to attend to. I have to go to the Palais-Royal first. Are you going my way?" A moment later they were on the avenue hailing a cab. The _cocher_, aroused by the promise of an extra _pourboire_, drove off briskly in the direction of the Rue de Rivoli, and soon they were rolling smoothly along that street of wonderful arcades. Passing the gilded gates of the Tuileries gardens they soon came abreast of the Louvre. Tod glanced up at the gloomy, time-discolored walls. "That's one place I must take in before I leave Paris. Not that I know one picture from another. Ever been there?" Mr. Cooley gave a snort of disapproval. "Naw," he grunted. "I've no time to spend in sepulchres. I prefer the Bal Tabarin myself." CHAPTER III.