But while busy with new affairs at Cedar Crest, Larry was all the while thinking of Maggie, and particularly of his own dilemma regarding Maggie and Dick.  But the right plan still refused to take form in his brain.  However, one important detail occurred to him which required immediate attention.  If his procedure in regard to Hunt’s pictures succeeded in drawing the painter from his hermitage, nothing was more likely than that Hunt unexpectedly would happen upon Maggie in the company of Dick Sherwood.  That might be a catastrophe to Larry’s unformed plan; it had to be forestalled if possible.  Such a matter could not be handled in a letter, with the police opening all mail coming to the Duchess’s house.  So once more he decided upon a secret visit to the Duchess’s house.  He figured that such a visit would be comparatively without risk, since the police and Barney Palmer and the gangsters Barney had put upon his trail all still believed him somewhere in the West.

Accordingly, a few nights after they had settled at Cedar Crest, he motored into New York in a roadster Miss Sherwood had placed at his disposal, and after the necessary precautions he entered Hunt’s studio.  The room was dismantled, and Hunt sat among his packed belongings smoking his pipe.

“Well, young fellow,” growled Hunt after they had shaken hands, “you see you’ve driven me from my happy home.”

“Then Mr. Graham has been to see you?”

“Yes.  And he put up to me your suggestion about a private exhibition.  And I fell for it.  And I’ve got to go back among the people I used to know.  And wear good clothes and put on a set of standardized good manners.  Hell!”

“You don’t like it?”

“I suppose, if the exhibition is a go, I’ll like grinning at the bunch that thought I couldn’t paint.  You bet I’ll like that!  You, young fellow—­I suppose you’re here to gloat over me and to try to collect your five thousand.”

“I never gloat over doing such an easy job as that was.  And I’m not here to collect my bet.  As far as money is concerned, I’m here to give you some.”  And he handed Hunt the check made out to “cash” which Mr. Graham had sent him for the Italian mother.

“Better keep that on account of what I owe you,” advised Hunt.

“I’d rather you’d hold it for me.  And better still, I’d rather call the bet off in favor of a new bargain.”

“What’s the new proposition for swindling me?”

“You need a business nursemaid.  What commission do you pay dealers?”

“Been paying those burglars forty per cent.”

“That’s too much for doing nothing.  Here’s my proposition.  Give me ten per cent to act as your personal agent, and I’ll guarantee that your total percentage for commissions will be less than at present, and that your prices will be doubled.  Of course I can’t do much while the police and others are so darned interested in me, so if you accept we’ll just date the agreement from the time I’m cleared.”