Francois will deliver me the photographs, and relate his selected historical excerpts, and then I will be ready to have a duel of wits with Madame Berthe." So he simply telegraphed to Lausanne: "Successful--arrive to-morrow night." He then dispatched the head porter with the telegram, and while enjoying his parting brandy and soda, was suddenly made aware of the near proximity of Mr.Phineas Forbes of Chicago, who was anxiously drinking cocktail after cocktail in a moody unrest.

The lank Chicago capitalist waved his tufted chin beard dejectedly as he answered the Briton's casual salutation.

"I'm worried about the girls," he simply said.

"They're off on the lake, with the Marquis de Santa Marina and that French chap, the Count de Roquefort.

I don't more than half like it." The hour was late, and the heavy father glued his eyes upon the darkened window pane.