agreed solemnly that they could never be more happy.
But Fontainebleau and a slim purse do not mix for long, and in three days they found themselves back in Dudley's shoddy Paris hotel room and the cold, unsympathetic world of reality.
Two cablegrams upon which two days' dust had accumulated, were handed them by the surly clerk.
Dudley's forehead was furrowed with a frown as he read:
He read it three times. There was more to it than met the eye. He was pleased at the instructions to go back to New York. But the rest—
The senior partner of Drake and Porter was Dudley's uncle, Sanford Drake. He had given his nephew, fresh from Princeton University, a clerkship in his old-established Wall Street banking house with the idea that the youth would eventually work up to something much better. At first Dudley had toiled like a Trojan, but youth is impatient and Sanford Drake was not one who rewarded industry quickly. The financier seemed to be bending
