“Dear Papa”:  it ran.  “I’m Calymene Blumembachii, a trilobite, one of the crustaceans related to the emtomostracans, but looking more like a tetradecapod, but always your affectionate—­Billy.”

He pushed it to the operator.  “Split that in three,” he ordered.  “Don’t want ruin the wires I’m careful ’bout wires.  Big fall snow wouldn’t do more damage ’n heavy words like that,” he explained to the listening circle.  “Think I look like tetradecapod?” he asked of them as one who makes conversation.  “Had that in geology lesson when I was fifteen,” he went on.  “Got lodged in crack in brain and there tish t’ thish day!  Every now’n then I go ‘flip,’”—­he appeared to pull a light lever situated in his head—­“’n fire it off.  See?  Always hit something.”

It was ten o’clock when, the job lot of telegrams despatched, Fairfax led his volcano from the hotel and headed for the apartment house.  He expected another balk at the entrance, for his round of gaiety had come now to seem to him eternal—­he could hardly imagine a life in which he was not conducting a tipsy man through a maze of experiences.  So that it was one of the surprises of the evening when Strong entered quietly and with perfect deportment took his place in the elevator and got out again, eight floors up, with the mildness of a dove.  At the door of the apartment came the last brief but sharp action of the campaign.

“Recky,” he said, taking Fairfax’s shoulders in his great grasp, “no mother could be t’ me what you’ve been.”

“I hope not,” Rex responded promptly, but Strong was not to be side-tracked.

“No mother ’n the world—­not one—­no sir!” he went on.  His voice broke with feeling.  “I’ll nev’ forget it—­nev’—­don’t ask me to,” he insisted.  “Dear Recky—­blessed old tomfool—­I’m go’n kiss you good-night.”

“You bet you’re not,” said Fairfax with emphasis.  “Let go of me, you idiot,” and he tried to loosen the hands on his shoulders.

But one of the most powerful men in New York had him in his grip, and Rex found himself suddenly folded in Billy’s arms, while a chaste salute was planted full on his mouth.  As he emerged a second later, disgusted and furious, from this tender embrace, the clang of the elevator twenty feet away caught his ear and, turning, his eyes met the astonished gaze of two young girls and their scornful, frowning father.  At that moment the door of the Strongs’ apartment opened, there was a vision of the elder Mr. Strong’s distracted face, the yellow gleam of the last telegram in his hands, and Rex fled.

* * * * *