I, THE KING ] By WAY LAND WELLS WILLIAMS. (Copyright. 1*24.) (Continued From Saturday.) Newell gave him a casual smile over his shoulder and called for two cards. He knew that Dick was drunker than he shojved. ‘‘Newell don’t care for women,” said Den Thompson. ‘‘How about a little bridge? Come on, Dick, you and I’ll stand anybody." "The hell he don't,” said Dick. “Aw, not bridge, too slow. No, old man Newell, old Post Newell. . . . Say, who was it used to call you Post, Newell?” "Jack Caslon," said Kit hurriedly. Half the room fell into silence; Len Thompson kicked Dick's shins, but he only stretched and raised a glass. "That’s so. Jack Caslon. He’s dead, do’ bless him. Here's to him, well rid of us—and we of him.” The words were audible to every one; the stillness became complete and hopeless. Kit turned in his rhair and looked at Pick. "If you think that, perhaps you'd better go,” he said, inclining his head slightly toward the door. • , "VVhoof!” said Dick inanely. “The loyal boy. More’n to those wives o’ yours on the island, what? Think of it, boys!” Kit fixed him with his eyes, motion less. "You'd better go,” he repeated. The silence became charged. Dick leaned forward on the table. "Huh What’s that?” "You’re drunk, I know, said Kit, “but if it makes you like that you'd better get out. Come back when you're sober.” „ "My God!" Dick rose; he was really far gone, hut he summoned some semblance of dignity, hitched up ids Sam Browne belt and threw his head back. "Huh, I will. I won’t stay here to be insulted by any one, 'specially not by a man’t throw over his oldest friend for a guy that the whole class him in a flash, swinging mm rou.iu r New York --Day by Day— >_—--—--' Hy o. 0. M'INTYRE. New York, Nov. 23.-—A page from the diary of a modern Samuel Pepys: I.ay late and then to breakfast with George Cohan and we fell to discuss ing animals and the possibility of them having souls. "There must be animals in heaven," said he, 1 or how do they get strings for their harps?" And, too, we discussed the virtue of common sense and T held the greatest exponent of it I knew was Hd. Howe, of Kansas, albeit I do not always agree with his views, but he seems to me ever to be tremendously sincere. Home and at my stint and then cast my accounts, finding a few pounds over my indebtedness for which the Lord be praised. My wife came to me with a frock, newlyj bought, and how pretty she looked, j she being ns fair if not the fairest lady in all the land. To dinner with Aulu-py Eads and his mother and there came Margalo Gilmore, Gertrude Lawerance, Macky Morris, Dwight Fry and Louis Cal hern and all cut up hlgh-jinks, yet It was the most innocent fun and foolery. So to bed. He was a commanding figure with a shock of snow-white hair. His dress is than of the middle aged dandy, conseralive, save for a bright cravat or perhaps lemon colored gloves. Peo ple usually turn their heads as they pass him. My own impression was that he was a colossal giant of the business world. Py chance I stum bled across his record. He has been three times imprisoned for selling worthless stock. He Is barred in . every hotel lobby as a confidence man. Most confidence games are bred in the hotel lobby. The easy familiarity among strangers gives the scheming crook the chance to open conversa tion without the formality of intro duction. And skilled ones will tell you that if they can hold any man’s interest for a half hour they never fall to land tim. The Gondorf brothers used to delight in tackling "prospects” who were known for their business sagacity. They boasted they never had a prospect who would not he a victim if they could get him to lunch with them, ft was their theory that only those who refused to listen failed as "suckers." t was bated one time in an ef fort made hy two men to swindle In a real estate deal. I'll confess I was tempted up to a certain point, but my faith was shattered when one of them kicked at a dog. One of the hlgh-yaller cabarets at tracting downtown shimmers to the uptown black belt is called "The Nest.” It Is In the basement, but Is as luxuriously decorated as any placa in town. All colored jazz musicians furnish the music—but It Is jazz with restraint and somehow suggests the for away tom toms In the African jungle. There Is promiscuous danc ing among the colored and white folk. All are requested to wear even ing clothes or he shunted Into a hack room. One thing Is noticeable, the service Is excellent. The colored waiters are deferential, attentive nml courteous. This is quite a con trast from the sullen menials who work downtown. At. the entrance each patron Is required to register and gain nil admission ■ curd which costs a dollar. The cover charge Is $2 a person. The odor from a con stant spray of perfume is wafted about the room hy electric fans. Chinatown also lots a popular mid flight supper club In Fell street. It Is called The Khnnghal club. Chinese girls with bobbed hair and latest frocks are to lie seen there with sleek American boys In collegiate clothes. An all Chinese revue with the Amer ican songs and dances Is offered. (CopyrliijK, mt) "No one says that here,” said Kit, vexed by an Insane desire to cry. “No, no, damned right. Oh, he'll come round when he's sober. He'll apologize," "I don't give a hang whether he does or not—” "Oh, c6me, buck up, old man!" ‘‘Yes, man, it's all over now. Bet’s forget about it. What about a rub ber'of bridge, eh?” Len Thomson left the house with Jen Cobb two hours later. “AH the same,” he said, “it was a bit swift, wasn't It, as against ii drunken man?” "Yes," said Jen, his eyes on the pavement. "But there's a lot behind it. I doubt if he ever comes back to Dick, tlood job he isn't going to marry the sister.” “Perhaps that’s one reason for this tiff?” “No. No, it was nothing hut the Jack motif, and that was the only thing that could have brought him to it. Anything else he’d have just laughed off. There’s a lot of depth to friend Kit, and it's pretty cJarure down there. No one’s ever/ really seen to,the bottom, I think, even Jack Caslon.—But I wouldn’t mind following it, straight to the very bot tom.” It was a week before he talked to Kit about it. "Oh, yes, Jen, he wrote and apologized, and I accepted it. And I'm having dinner witli him and some other people tonight. Fun ny, isn't it? how short a time one can care. I only know there's a good party on tonight, and I don't want* to miss it.” “The life's getting you. in spite of everything," said Jen, swallowing the surprise he felt. “Well, no one escapes. Duchess of Richmond stuff." Kit smiled, inertly. “Yes. at times. I know Dick was damnable, utterly damnable, but I don’t care. I don’t mind seeing him.” Jen started to speak, paused, and said: "See here, look out. It's all very well to forgive. But you'd bet ter be sure you are forgiving. Not just not caring." "Oh, blat!” said Kit, turning away. .‘‘You and your metaphysics. What on earth's the difference?" "Think of Jack, and you’ll see the difference.” A long pause: then Kit: "I believe I won’t go to that dinner, Jen. I'll go and get Mary Vane to play. That's better, every way.” CHAPTER XIi. I. Mary Vane, with her north-lit stu dio, and her sprawling black piano and her roommate, Ethel Stock, a gaunt girl with bobbed hair and an unsmiling and untimely (and for that reason rather convincing) devotion to ■ Ibsen, became a fixture in Kit’s weeks. She represented an unfailing response to a mood in him, a mood of thinking about Jack and the empti ness of life and the pathos of his lost youth. She also served as an anti dote to the unsatisfying but narcotic whirl of things In Park avenue, the cafes, hotel ballrooms and road houses. And then, in early May, he made the discovery that Mary Vane took of that side of life also. It came about by his learning thut she was going to a certain dance, to which he had also been invited, lie had not intended to go, but immediately deter mined to do so, out of pure and rather anxious curiosity to see Mary Vane in a ball gown. The dance was given by the Van dermylls. mother and son, relics of two semi-fabulous patronn families of Westchester county. They had not very much money, their ancestors having sold their real estate too soon; hut they knew people who had. Their family prestige awed the more newly rich and their eccentricities amused them, and they went with the best Bobby Vandermyll had been in the class ahead of Kit at Yale, and had failed to make any great impression on it. He was about five feet all and had developed a watery blond mtis tache. Mu h to every one's astonish' 1 ment he had allowed himself to be drafted (having of course, eye trou ble that prevented his getting a com mission!, and had risen to the rank of sergeant major in the Quartermas ter Corps. Mrs. Vandermyll, in a voluminous skirt that swept the floor, stood in the bay window of her front draw ing room and received. "How do you do, Christopher!" she said, her large loose lips making a curious whistling sound over her words. "I’m so very glad to see you. I hope you don t find us loo staid and straight-laced, after that island of yours! Bobby— yes, he's dancing. T wanted him to wear his uniform, but he -wouldn't. I think It's sic h a shame you men won't.—Why, how do you do, Mrs. Fleming! Yes, the sergeant major's dancing . . .” Stayed and straight-laced Mrs. Van dermyll was, up to the very neck, but she had a daughter, Cora, who was quite otherwise, she had eloped with a chauffeur, been rapidly disinherited, divorced and pardoned, and now pro claimed openly that she intended to marry the first British peer she could lay hands on As soon as he had escaped from the mother Kit caught sight of this Interesting person whirl ing about in the arms of a man in a British major's uniform, and he wondered If this were the peer. At the same moment she sighted him out of her extremely sophisticated brown eye; she stopped dancing and yelled: ■•ill, Newell! Come here, 1 want to see you!" The habit of railing men by their last names she had retained from her patroon ancestry; otherwise she was indistinguishable from the average louder debutant# of some years’ standing. She shook hands with Kit ind introduced him to Major Boon ‘spelt, he afterwards learned, Bohun). “Well, Newell, I had to shake hands with you because I've never shaken hand* with a kiiiR before. Quite « romantic figure, aren't you. What on earth bring* you here',' Perfect menagerie. Well, so long. But In on me, when yon see this man's about to faint.” He danced once with some one else, was cut In on. and then per eeivpd Mary Vane dancing with the same Ilritlsh officer. Me watched her with the greatest care: her gown was of light green, rather longer and more tightly fitting than most, but en tirely "there;" she was dancing well, though rather erectly, and smiling with perfect ease; her dark eyes wore precisely iterfomunp the *‘on vent ion a I uses of eyes at a dance. "Weil, I'll he darned, ' he said, and out in. (To Its Continued Tomorrow.) | Bee Want Ads are the best busi ness booster*. THE NEBBS KING DOUGH DOUGH. 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