“I shall certainly say those things if I am asked about them,” replied Mr. Close, considering them carefully, one by one.”  Don’t hesitate to refer to me.  I’ll do the best I conscientiously can for you.”

Johnny stood waiting for the stream of the traffic to stop for the cross-current, so that he could go over to the subway, when a big blue touring car stopped just in front of him, and the driver, a hearty young woman all in blue, including plumes and shoes, hailed him joyously.

“Jump in, Johnny!” she invited.  “I found a four-leaf clover this morning—­and here I’m lucky already.  Sammy, run into the drug store for some chocolates.  Johnny, sit up here with me.”

Sammy Chirp, who tied his own cravats and did them nicely, smiled feebly in recognition of Johnny Gamble, lugged Miss Polly Parson’s bouquet, parasol, fan, hand-bag and coat back into the tonneau and went upon his errand.

“Thanks, Sammy,” said Johnny, and clambered into young Chirp’s place in the car.  “Where are you going to take me?”

“Any place you say,” rejoined Polly.

“Drive over on Seventh Avenue, then,” he directed.  “There’s a lot of shack property around the new terminal station.  I want to build a smashing big hotel over there.  I don’t see why somebody hasn’t done it.”

Polly puzzled over that matter considerably herself.

“It doesn’t seem possible that New York would overlook a bet like that,” she declared, and obeying the traffic policeman’s haughty gesture, turned briskly off Broadway.

“Why not?” he demanded.  “New York grabs a cinch.  The cinch has been kicking around loose for fifty years.  New York pats herself on the pink bald spot.  ‘Nothing gets by me!’ she says.”

“New York’s the best town in the world!” Polly flared.

“I wasn’t insulting your friend,” apologized Johnny, and looked at his watch.  “Great Scott!  It’s ten-thirty!” he exploded.  “I owe myself seventy-five hundred dollars.  All I’ve done is to decide on a Terminal Hotel Company.  Want some stock, Polly?”

“I’ll take all I can reach if you’re leading it around,” she assured him.  “I can’t take much, but I’ll make Daddy Parsons go in, and I’ll be a nuisance to every moneyed man I know.”

“By the by, where’s the fifteen thousand I made Saturday?” Johnny asked.

“In my bank,” she replied.  “I just deposited it.”

“Why did you take it away from me—­if it’s any of my business?” he wanted to know.

“I was afraid they’d snatch it from you,” she returned.  “Gresham was all peeved up because you took fifteen thousand away from him in front of Constance.  Loring saw Gresham and your old partner talking together immediately afterward; and he told me that they might frame up some crooked scheme to grab the money.  I didn’t have a chance to explain, so I asked you to indorse the check to me.”

“Do you think Collaton’s crooked?” Johnny asked with a queer smile.