looked across the Drive and out upon the lake where white-tipped waves were chasing each other against the esplanade; its rear windows, he knew, having come in that way, looked only at the backs of other houses. Four blocks to north of it and three to west, as nearly as he could figure, was his father's house, which had amazed him by its luxury until he had seen this one.
He went from room to room on the second floor, looking into them and examining excitedly the beautiful things he found. The room which pleased him most was at the front of the house and apparently was a woman's room. Its furnishings were all exquisitely delicate, and there were articles monogrammed in fine tracery upon the dresser, and several small portraits in gold frames. One was of a woman whom he recognized; she was the one whose picture he had seen with Mrs. Markyn's at the newspaper office. What had her name been? Mrs. Arthur Cord. Another was of a man and his pulse quickened as he looked at it. He picked it up and held it so that he could see himself in the mirror while
