“That is merely a mechanical toy,” said the gentleman with a wave of his hand. “May I ask you to be seated while I explain why I brought you to my house. Perhaps you would not understand nor be in sympathy with the psychological prompting that caused me to do so. So I will come to the point at once by venturing to refer to your admission that you know the Van Smuythe family, of Washington Square North.” “Any silver missing?” asked Thomas tartly. “Any joolry displaced? Of course I know ’em. Any of the old ladies’ sunshades disappeared? Well, I know ’em. And then what?” The Grand Duke rubbed his white hands together softly. “Wonderful!” he murmured. “Wonderful! Shall I come to believe in the Chaldean Chiroscope myself? Let me assure you,” he continued, “that there is nothing for you to fear. Instead, I think I can promise you that very good fortune awaits you. We will see.” “Do they want me back?” asked Thomas, with something of his old professional pride in his voice. “I’ll promise to cut out the booze and do the right thing if they’ll try me again. But how did you get wise, doc? B’gee, it’s the swellest employment agency I was ever in, with its flashlight owls and so forth.” With an indulgent smile the gracious host begged to be excused for two minutes. He went out to the sidewalk and gave an order to the chauffeur, who still waited with the car. Returning to the mysterious apartment, he sat by his guest and began to entertain him so well by his witty and genial converse that the poor Bed Liner almost forgot the cold streets from which he had been so recently and so singularly rescued. A servant brought some tender cold fowl and tea biscuits and a glass of miraculous wine; and Thomas felt the glamour of Arabia envelop him. Thus half an hour sped quickly; and then the honk of the returned motor car at the door suddenly drew the Grand Duke to his feet, with another soft petition for a brief absence. Two women, well muffled against the cold, were admitted at the front door and suavely conducted by the master of the house down the hall through another door to the left and into a smaller room, which was screened and segregated from the larger front room by heavy, double portières. Here the furnishings were even more elegant and exquisitely tasteful than in the other. On a gold-inlaid rosewood table were scattered sheets of white paper and a queer, triangular instrument or toy, apparently of gold, standing on little wheels. The taller woman threw back her black veil and loosened her cloak. She was fifty, with a wrinkled and sad face. The other, young and plump, took a chair a little distance away and to the rear as a servant or an attendant might have done. “You sent for me, Professor Cherubusco,” said the elder woman, wearily. “I hope you have something more definite than usual to say. I’ve about lost the little faith I had in your art. I would not have responded to your call this evening if my sister had not insisted upon it.”