Mr. Robert had a taxi waitin’ to take him to the club, and I was debatin’ whether I needed a reg’lar dinner or not, when I gets a glimpse of someone leanin’ patient against a pillar opposite the main elevator exit.

“Sufferin’ sisters!” says I.  “Valentina!”

“I beg pardon?” says Mr. Robert.

“Say,” says I, “help me put a smilin’ party on the track of K. W. Mason, will you?  Here she is.”

I expect Mr. Robert would have ducked if he could, after one view of the polka-dot dress and the rusty straw lid; but there was Valentina comin’ straight at us.

“For the love of Mike!” says I.  “You ain’t been waitin’ all this time, have you?”

“Right hea-uh,” says she.  “Ah reckon Ah done missed him.”

“Why,” says I, “Mr. Mason left hours ago.  Must be something important you want to see him about, eh?”

“Ah don’t know as it is,” says she; “only Ah promised, ef ever Ah got to Noo Yawk, Ah’d look him up.  He made me.  And Ah sure would like to see Warrie mahself.”

“Warrie!” says I.  “Oh, gosh!  Why, you mean young Mr. Mason—­Warren, don’t you?”

She nods.

“Well, say, that’s too bad,” says I.  “My fault, though.  But I never thought of Warrie as the one.  Why, he hasn’t been with the Corrugated for over a year now.”

I might have added that we’d had hard work missin’ him at any time.  Not that he wasn’t all right in his way, but—­well, it was just a case of bein’ more ornamental than useful.  A bit thick in the head, Warrie.  But it was a stunnin’ head—­reg’lar Apollonaris Belvidere.  He had wavy brown hair, and big, peaceful brown eyes.  Stood a little over six feet too, and they say that when it came to ridin’ a spotted pony and swingin’ a polo mallet he was all there.  But in the bond department he was just under foot.

So, when he develops rheumatism in one shoulder and a specialist orders him South, it wasn’t any serious jolt to the business world.  And when he finally shows up again it didn’t take much urgin’ from Mr. Robert to induce him to pass up his financial career for good.  He was engaged to be married anyway, and that should have been enough to occupy his mind.

Where he’d run across Valentina was the big puzzle, and the easiest way to solve it was to ask her.  Which I does.

“Why, at Sand Spur Point,” says she.

“Sounds cute,” says I.  “Is it on the map?"’

“It’s on mine,” says Valentina.

“Sand Spur, did you say?” puts in Mr. Robert.  “Isn’t that the place he discovered when he was sent South to bake out his shoulder?  Florida, isn’t it?”

“West coast,” says Valentina.

“Of course,” says Mr. Robert.  “He talked a lot about it.  Seemed to have grown rather fond of the people there.”

“We all thought a heap of Warrie,” says Miss Tozier, lettin’ loose that mesmerizin’ smile of hers.

Mr. Robert gets the full force of it, for he’d been lookin’ her over sort of curious; and blamed if he don’t fall for it ’most as hard as me and Vincent.