father. Archie draped himself over a chair in the background.
"Father, dear," said Lucille. "Archie has got an idea."
"Archie?" said Mr. Brewster incredulously.
"This is me," said Archie, indicating himself with a spoon. "The tall, distinguished-looking bird."
"What new fool-thing is he up to now?"
"It's a splendid idea, father. He wants to help you over your new hotel."
"Wants to run it for me, I suppose?"
"By Jove!" said Archie, reflectively. "That's not a bad scheme! I never thought of running an hotel. I shouldn't mind taking a stab at it."
"He has thought of a way of getting rid of Salvatore and his shop."
For the first time Mr. Brewster's interest in the conversation seemed to stir. He looked sharply at his son-in-law.
"He has, has he?" he said.
Archie balanced a roll on a fork and inserted a plate underneath. The roll bounded away into a corner.
"Sorry!" said Archie. "My fault, absolutely! I owe you a roll. I'll sign a bill for it. Oh, about this sportsman Salvatore. Well, it's like this, you know. He and I are great pals. I've known him for years and years. At least, it seems like years and years. Lu was suggesting that I seek him out in his lair and ensnare him with my diplomatic manner and superior brain power and what not."
"It was your idea, precious," said Lucille.
Mr. Brewster was silent. Much as it went against the
