“I’m glad you are going to Lynn, to be with Mr. Hambleton,” she said at last.  “As long as he is your friend, I shall be your friend, too, and never uneasy.  You may count on that.  And now will you do me another kindness?”

“I’ll put that old racing-car in order, if that’s what you mean.  Of course.”

“As soon as possible.  But it would seem that from now on you are accountable to no one but Mr. Hambleton.”

“I’m his man,” said Mr. Hand simply.  “I’d do anything for him.”  He turned away with his old-time puzzling manner, half deferential, half indifferent.

And so Mr. Straker was ready to depart for New York at last, leaving Agatha, much against his will, to “complete her recovery” at Ilion.  At least, that was the way he felt in duty bound to put it.

“You have found a substitute now,” Agatha urged.  “It is only fair to let her have a chance.  A week, more or less, can not make any difference, now that I’ve broken so many engagements already.  I’ll come back later and make a fresh start.”

“You stay up here and New York’ll forget you’re living!” growled Mr. Straker.

“Not if you continue to be my manager,” said Agatha.

“If I’m to be your manager, I ought never to let you out of my sight for a minute.  It’s too dangerous.”

CHAPTER XXIII

JIMMY MUFFS THE BALL

It will sometimes happen that young gentlemen, skipping confident, even under their lucky star, will get a fall.  Fortune had been too constant to Jimmy not to be ready to turn her fickle face away the moment he wasn’t looking.  But such is the rashness born of success and a bounding heart, that young blood leaps to its doom, smiling, as it were, on the faithless lady’s back.

Jimmy had no forebodings, but rioted gorgeously in returning health, in a whole pack of new emotions, and in what he supposed to be his lady’s favor.  Aleck, more philosophical, took his happiness with a more quiet gusto, not provoking the frown of the gods.  But for Jim the day of reckoning was coming.

One day Aleck joined him, walking up and down the porch.  Jim was in one of his boyish, cocksure moods.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he began, before Aleck could spring his news.  “You’re going to marry the princess.”

“Just so,” said Aleck.  “How’d you know?  Clairvoyance?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you needn’t look so high and mighty about it, old man.  Why don’t you do the same thing yourself?  Then we’ll have a double wedding.”

“I’ve thought of that,” said Jim.

As the two men talked, Agatha and Melanie, both dressed in white, strolled side by side down the garden path toward the wall.  They were deep in conversation, their backs turned toward the veranda.

“I don’t see that they look so much alike,” announced Jim, who had but recently learned all the causes and effects of the Chatelard business.  Aleck’s eyes gleamed.