say—­glad, as long as I cannot prevent him from playing.  And yet I may be able to accomplish that yet—­in a roundabout way—­because the apple-visaged and hawk-beaked Mr. Neergard has apparently become my slavish creature; quite infatuated.  And as soon as I’ve fastened on his collar, and made sure that Rosamund can’t unhook it, I’ll try to make him shut down on Gerald’s playing.  This for your sake, Phil—­because you ask me.  And because you must always stand for all that is upright and good and manly in my eyes.  Ah, Phil! what a fool I was!  And all, all my own fault, too.

     “Alixe.”

This ended the sudden eruption of correspondence; for he did not reply to this letter, though in it he read enough to make him gravely uneasy; and he fell, once more, into the habit of brooding, from which both Boots Lansing and Eileen had almost weaned him.

Also he began to take long solitary walks in the Park when not occupied in conferences with the representatives of the Lawn Nitro-Powder Works—­a company which had recently approached him in behalf of his unperfected explosive, Chaosite.

This hermit life might have continued in town indefinitely had he not, one morning, been surprised by a note from Eileen—­the first he had ever had from her.

It was only a very brief missive—­piquant, amusing, innocently audacious in closing—­a mere reminder that he had promised to write to her; and she ended it by asking him very plainly whether he had not missed her, in terms so frank, so sweet, so confident of his inevitable answer, that all the enchantment of their delightful intimacy surged back in one quick tremor of happiness, washing from his heart and soul the clinging, sordid, evil things which were creeping closer, closer to torment and overwhelm him.

And all that day he went about his business quite happily, her letter in his pocket; and that night, taking a new pen and pen holder, he laid out his very best letter-paper, and began the first letter he had ever written to Eileen Erroll.

“DEAR EILEEN:  I have your charming little note from Silverside reminding me that I had promised to write you.  But I needed no reminder; you know that.  Then why have I not written?  I couldn’t, off-hand.  And every day and evening except to-day and this evening I have been in conference with Edgerton Lawn and other representatives of the Lawn Nitro-Powder Company; and have come to a sort of semi-agreement with them concerning a high explosive called Chaosite, which they desire to control the sale of as soon as I can control its tendency to misbehave.  This I expect to do this summer; and Austin has very kindly offered me a tiny cottage out on the moors too far from anybody or anything to worry people.

“I know you will be glad to hear that I have such attractive business prospects in view.  I dare say I shall scarcely know what to do with my enormous profits a year or two hence.  Have you any suggestions?

     “Meanwhile, however, your letter and its questions await answers;
     and here they are: