“I don’t know,” replied the other, puzzled.  “They say the old man never could sleep at night, and used to wander about alone in the park.  I suppose he had things on his conscience.”

They strolled away; and the Major’s flood-gates of gossip were opened.  There was an old merchant in New York, who had been Havens’s private secretary.  And Havens was always in terror of assassination, and so whenever they travelled abroad he and the secretary exchanged places.  “The old man is big and imposing,” said the Major, “and it’s funny to hear him tell how he used to receive the visitors and be stared at by the crowds, while Havens, who was little and insignificant, would pretend to make himself useful.  And then one day a wild-looking creature came into the Havens office, and began tearing the wrappings off some package that shone like metal—­and quick as a flash he and Havens flung themselves down on the floor upon their faces.  Then, as nothing happened, they looked up, and saw the puzzled stranger gazing over the railing at them.  He had a patent churn, made of copper, which he wanted Havens to market for him!”

Montague could have wished that this party might last for a week or two, instead of only two days.  He was interested in the life, and in those who lived it; all whom he met were people prominent in the social world, and some in the business world as well, and one could not have asked a better chance to study them.

Montague was taking his time and feeling his way slowly.  But all the time that he was playing and gossiping he never lost from mind his real purpose, which was to find a place for himself in the world of affairs; and he watched for people from whose conversation he could get a view of this aspect of things.  So he was interested when Mrs. Smythe remarked that among his fellow-guests was Vandam, an official of one of the great life-insurance companies.  “Freddie” Vandam, as the lady called him, was a man of might m the financial world; and Montague said to himself that in meeting him he would really be accomplishing something.  Crack shots and polo-players and four-in-hand experts were all very well, but he had his living to earn, and he feared that the problem was going to prove complicated.

So ho was glad when chance brought him and young Vandam together, and Siegfried Harvey introduced them.  And then Montague got the biggest shock which New York had given him yet.

It was not what Freddie Vandam said; doubtless he had a right to be interested in the Horse Show, since he was to exhibit many fine horses, and he had no reason to feel called upon to talk about anything more serious to a stranger at a house party.  But it was the manner of the man, his whole personality.  For Freddie was a man of fashion, with all the exaggerated and farcical mannerisms of the dandy of the comic papers.  He wore a conspicuous and foppish costume, and posed with a little cane; he cultivated a waving