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known Melnikoff had told you of it I The betrayal of the name “Krylenko" should have warned you. From other was, of course, easily traceable to him, people who escaped from Petrograd I but whence had he known the addresses? learned that Zorinsky frequented the And then I remembered that I had café, too. He was merely lying in wait never telephoned to Zorinsky from anyfor Melnikoff.”

where except from "No. 5” and the “You mean he deliberately betrayed Journalist's, for those were the only him?"

places where I could speak without being “It is evident. Put two and two to overheard. I suggested the coincidence gether. Melnikoff was a known and to Ivan Sergeievitch. much-feared counter-revolutionary. Zo "Aha!” he cried, obviously regarding rinsky was in the service of the Extraor the evidence as conclusive. “Of course dinary Commission, and was well paid, he inquired for your telephone numbers no doubt. He also betrayed Vera Alex- directly you had spoken! But he would androvna and her café, probably receiv not betray you as long as you continued ing so much per head. I heard of that to pay him. Besides, he doubtless hoped from other people.”

eventually to unearth a big organization. “Then why did he not betray me, As for your betrayal, any time would do, too?" I asked, incredulously.

and the reward was always certain. It “You gave him money, I suppose?” might be another hundred thousand for

I told Ivan Sergeievitch the whole revealing your haunts. And then, you story-how I had met Zorinsky, his offer see, in Finland he would warn you to release Melnikoff, the sixty thousand against returning and get some more out rubles and other payments “for odd of you for this further great service. He expenses,” amounting to about a hun was furious to find you had just left!" dred thousand in all. I also told him of “Will Zorinsky come back to Russia, the valuable and accurate information do you think?" I asked. Zorinsky had provided me with.

“I have no idea," was the reply. And “That is just what he would do," said he added, again staring at my transIvan Sergeievitch. “He worked for both formed physiognomy and laughing, sides. A hundred thousand, I suppose, “But you certainly have no cause to is all he thought he could get out of you, fear his recognizing you now!" so now he has gone to Finland. Some Such was the strange story of Zorinsky thing must have happened to you here, as I learned it from Ivan Sergeievitch. for he wanted to prevent your returning Eventually I heard Zorinsky had been to Russia and pose as your savior. Is it shot by the Bolsheviks. If so, it was not true that something has happened?” an ironic and fitting close to his caI told him of the discovery of the

Perhaps they discovered him Journalist's flat and “No. 5," but, unless again serving two or more masters. But I had been tracked unnoticed, there was the news impressed me but little, for no special reason to believe Zorinsky I had ceased to care whether Zorinsky could have discovered either of these. was shot or not.

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THE TRUE NELSON TOUCH

BY ALEXANDER PORTERFIELD

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HILE it had been his uncle's All uncles appeared to be uninterest

undisputed privilege to show ingly alike, and Egbert, whose family Egbert his way round New York in the consisted largely of uncles, inclined that first place, it would have been certainly evening to rather more exciting society. an unwarrantable stretch of imagination Therefore he left the numerous letters to add that Mr. Carrington Crosby had of introduction with which he had been considered it a pleasure, as well as a presented before leaving England in privilege. As a matter of fact, he had safety at the bottom of a formidable considered it a confounded nuisance, and trunk and dined alone at the Restaurant endured two or three hours of Egbert's Mont-Parnasse. Everybody knows the uninterrupted society in the frankly Restaurant Mont - Parnasse — its jazz silent exasperation of one who endures band-its floor for dancing—its lightsthe attentions of a large and malignant its reckless, intoxicating gayety-its mosquito. They saw the fleet at anchor cooking-iis clientèle. He was told that in the North River, from the top of a everybody dined at the Restaurant bus, and Grant's tomb, and the whole of Mont-Parnasse. Of course, it was unNew York from the Woolworth Building fortunate he could not invite some imwith an enthusiasm they had been equally mensely pretty girl to dine there with successful in dissembling; and they part- him, and dance; most of the letters of ed just before dinner with the somewhat introduction he had received were to depressed satisfaction of men who have elderly gentlemen who lived at clubs and done their duty when they might have were probably uncles of the most uninbeen delightfully occupied otherwise. teresting sort.

“I'm afraid," said Mr. Carrington Still, almost anything might happen Crosby, as he shook hands with his at the Restaurant Mont-Parnasse. nephew outside the towering, tremendous hotel at which Egbert had, on the Almost anything did happen at the advice of a taxi driver, elected to stay, Restaurant Mont-Parnasse, as a matter “I can't ask you to dine with me, as I'm of fact. There was a wholesale and horridining out myself."

fying consumption of iced water. There "Right-o," replied Egbert, cheerfully. were men in evening clothes and in golf

“It's a very important and long- suits of extraordinary tweed. There were standing engagement,” explained his some astonishing decorations in the uncle, "otherwise"

more enlivening manner of the gifted M. “Oh, that's quite all right,” interrupt- Leon Bakst; a maître d'hôtel whom ed Egbert, stifling any curiosity in Egbert thought he remembered seeing in what might or might not transpire had Cannes, but who disappointingly insistMr. Crosby's dinner appointment been ed that he came from Cincinnati, Ohio. of evidently less consequence than it And then there were a tremendous numapparently was. “Anyway, I'm goin' to ber of extremely pretty girls with whom dine with a chap I met on the boat,” he it was apparently impossible to talk-as added, making an excursion into the one did at Ciro's, or the Café Royal. ... realm of fiction himself.

And then there was a waiter with a

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very small visiting card on a very large a mistake. This card's for some one plate, which were presented jointly to else.” Egbert. The card bore the neatly en "No," said the waiter, obstinately, graved name of Mr. Reginald Chol “it ain't. The genelman said you—the mondeley upon it, and in the lower left En'lishman with the eyeglass.' hand corner that of Brooks's Club, St. "But I don't know any Mr. Reginald James's St., S. W. 1.

Cholmondeley!" said Egbert. Who on earth was Mr. Reginald And then he perceived an important, Cholmondeley?

gray-haired, rather portly man in eve“Says he met you in London," said ning clothes making his way directly the waiter.

towards them with an almost episcopal “Me?" exclaimed Egbert, reading the dignity and distinction of manner. inscription again carefully.

"Is this the jolly old joker?” asked “An' the genelman wants to knows Egbert, hurriedly. will you join him—”

The waiter glanced over bis shoulder “Look here, old thing, you've made and nodded.

and nodded. “Sure, this 's him." VOL CXLIV.-No. 859.-9

Mr. Reginald Cholmondeley ad Egbert stood up with immediate alacvanced upon them portentous!y, pre- rity, and Mr. Cholmondeley led him tending to notice nothing, slowly and through a maze of tables toward the rather thoughtfully, jingling some loose other side of the room. Just at that coins in his trousers' pockets.

moment the band, which had been rest“I say, haven't I met you somewhere ing a little while from its labors, resumed or other?” he began. “My name's its violent attack upon the already rapCholmondeley—that's my card-and, idly declining art of music with tin trays though I can't remember your name, clashing and trap drums banging and the remember your face. . .

whoops of the leader, and it was someA short and somewhat doubtful pause, what difficult to follow the course of Mr. and then:

Cholmondeley's conversation as well as “Think I met you at Lady George his person. Staccato echoes, however, Mainwaring's-or Brooks's. ...

drifted back. “But,” remarked Egbert, politely, “Know Prothero, of the Blues, Ainslie? “I've never been inside Brooks's.

"You a hunting man, Ainslie? “Well, I've met you somewhere, cer “Just landed, Ainslie? tain,” said Mr. Cholmondeley, with “You here for long, Ainslie?” immense conviction, adding, hastily, It appeared that Mr. Cholmondeley lee.

was a gentleman of astonishingly varied “Of course," said Egbert. "Out in taste and innumerable acquaintances, France, perhaps. Always meetin' such but it became more and more difficult nailin' good people out there, you know, to follow him and the exact flow of his and never gettin' their bloomin' names. conversation at the same time. Egbert

“Ah, perhaps that was it,” said Mr. caromed from a waiter into an indignant Cholmondeley. “I was in the Fusilier couple upon the verge of dancing, and Guards."

from them into another waiter, while After all, one met everybody in fragments of talk, in the shape of names, France. And, besides, it was rather places, and dates, came vaguely back to pleasant to be able to talk to somebody him, like echoes of Who's Who, or -except, of course, an uncle.

Burke's Landed Gentry, between inten“I say, sit down, won't you," said sive blasts of Bantu melodies. But Egbert. "Have some iced water, or a Egbert, who had the Tory tradition on cigarette, or anything. . . . Anyway, one side of his family and a Hungarian have a pew.”

great-grandmother on the other, natu“Can't. Got a party here."

rally stopped at nothing and battled his And then Egbert noticed that Mr. way safely to the table where Mr. Cholmondeley wore a very large flower Cholmondeley stood regarding a very in the buttonhole of his coat. “Thought slim, self-possessed young lady in black. we might have a bit of a chin-chin,” he “May I,” he was saying, as Egbert said, “but, of course ...

came up, rather breathless, but otherIt would be extremely decent if Mr. wise himself, “introduce an old friend of Cholmondeley would only ask him to mine, Mr. Ainslie?" join that party, reflected Egbert, rather “How do you do?" said the extremely hopefully. It stood to reason that there self-possessed young lady in a level, would be some pretty girls.

delicately husky voice. Apparently she “Well, look here, er–er

was the party. what the dickens is your name?” said From some mysterious source Mr. Mr. Cholmondeley.

Cholmondeley produced a flask of noble “Ainslie.”

dimensions and rilled some very fra“Oh, of course, Ainslie! Well, as I grant, golden fluid into a large tumbler was going to say, come over and join us." and pushed it toward Egbert.

I say,

“Well, this is just about the best that ever was, this jolly old evening,” remarked Egbert, with tremendous decision. "Here's a go!"

Some hours later Mr. Cholmondeley, after consulting his watch furtively, drew Egbert aside. Miss Mary McQuaill had retired to powder her nose, and to repair a rent in her dress which Egbert had inadvertently made in the Castilian abandon of the last tango but one. He was extremely attracted by Miss McQuaill—she was a cool, collected, lovely thing with eyes that shone like stars, and a clear, dispassionate voice. It was an entrancing, unbelievably divine business dancing with her! It was entrancing, too, simply watching her dance — rather distressingly entrancing —and Egbert was in an immensely gracious, glowing, frame of mind as he turned gratefully toward Mr. Cholmondeley.

In fact, his mood was rapidly approaching the lyrical, which, of course, wouldn't do at all. He wasn't lis tening in the least to Mr. Cholmondeley; he was thinking about Miss Mary McQuaill, and in a rapt, romantic way...

“Look here," said Mr. Cholmondeley. “I've just discovered that I've done the silliest thing in my life quite the silliest.”

With immense reluctance Egbert transferred his reflections from the abSent, although radiantly remembered, Miss McQuaill's person to the mundane

and immediate problem of Mr. Cholmondeley's silliness.

"Have you? By Jove!"

“Yes, I've come out with only some loose change in my pockets.”

Mr. Cholmondeley glanced carelessly at Egbert. "Pretty awkward, isn't it?" he re

marked, ruefully, but with a slight but noticeable inflection of hope in his voice.

“Not at all,” replied Egbert, briskly, and in instant relief. “If a fiver-I mean, if twenty-five dollars is of any use — Well, my very dear old boy”

Mr. Cholmondeley promptly removed any doubt on the point of immediate utility of that particular sum by pocketing it.

Egbert scribbled the name of his hotel on the back of his card. “Any time this week,” he said. “But I say -have we got to push off already?" “It's

's one now,” said Mr. Cholmondeley.

“But, hang it all!" protested Egbert, “Britons never, never shall be slaves!"

And then, looking

more like a goddess than ever, Miss McQuaill reappeared. She looked at Mr. Cholmondeley.

“What's the time now?" she asked.
“One-ish."
“I think we'd better be going."

“They push one out here about this time, anyway,” said Mr. Cholmondeley to the disconsolate Egbert. "There's no earthly use staying on, really."

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DANCING WITH HER WAS ENTRANCING

As a matter of fact, neither Miss

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