We only caught glimpses of 'em the whole afternoon. And that Sunday evenin' the porch swing worked overtime again. I know both Vee and me did a lot of yawnin' before they finally drifts in. I'd never seen Peyton quite so chirky. He even goes so far as to smoke a cigarette. And next mornin', as he leaves reluctant with me to catch the 8:03 express, he stops me at the gate to give me the hearty grip.

"I say, old man," says he husky, "I--I never can tell you how grateful I am for--for what you've done."

"Then let's forget it," says I.

"Forget!" says he, smilin' mushy. "Never!"

At lunch time he asks me which of the Fifth Avenue photographers I think is the best.

"Eh?" says I, grinnin'. "Thinkin' of havin' yourself mugged and sendin'

the result to somebody in a silver frame?"

"Well," says he draggy, "I--I've been meaning to have some pictures taken for several years, and now----"

"Got you," says I. "But if you want something real swell let me tow you to a place I know of on Fifty-fifth."

Honest, I wasn't thinking about the Maison Noir at the time or that it was just next door. In fact, it was Peyton himself who stops in front of the show window and grabs me by the arm.

"I say!" says he, pointin' in at the exhibit. "See--see there."

He's pointin' to a display of checked gingham frocks, blue and white and pink and white, with hats to match.

"Yes," says I, "do look sort of familiar, don't they?"

"Why," he goes on, "they're almost exactly like those of--of Lucy's; the same simple lines, the same material and everything."

"Cla.s.sy stuff," says I. "Come along, though. The picture place is next door, upstairs."

Peyton still stands there gawpin'. "Such a coincidence," he's murmurin'.

"I wonder, Torchy, if one could find out about how much they ask for such things in a place like this."

"Easiest thing in the world," says I. "Just blow in and get 'em to give you quotations."

"Oh, but I wouldn't dare do that," says he. "It would seem so--so----"

"Not at all," says I. "As it happens, this joint is one where Vee does more or less shoppin', when she's feelin' flush, and I've often been with her. If you're curious we'll breeze in and get their prices."

Peyton was right there with the curiosity, too. And the lady vamp with the long string of beads danglin' from her neck didn't seem to think it odd for us to be interested in checked ginghams.

"Ah, yes-s-s!" says she, throwin' open the back doors of the show window. "Zey are great bargains, those. Marked down but las' week. Thees wan--m-m-m-m--only $68; but wiz ze hat also, $93."

And the gasp that gets out of Peyton sounds like openin' an airbrake.

"Nine-ty three dollars!" says he. "For a simple little thing like that?

Why, that seems to be rather exorbitant!"

"Mais non!" says the lady vamp, shruggin' her shoulders. "They are what you call simple, yes. But they are chic, too. One considers that. Las'

week come a young lady from Atlanta who in one hour takes two dozen at once, and more next day. You see!"

Peyton was beginning to see. But he wanted to be dead sure. "From Atlanta?" says he. "Not--not a--a Miss Vaughn?"

"Mais oui!" says Madame, clappin' her hands enthusiastic. "The ver' one.

You know her? Yes?"

"I--I thought I did," says Peyton, sort of weak, as he starts for the door.

He calls off the picture proposition. Says he ain't quite in the mood.

And all that day he seems to have something on his mind that he couldn't unload. Three or four times he seems to be just on the point of statin'

it to me but never can quite get a start. And next day he's a good deal the same. He was like that when I left the office about 4 p.m. to catch an early train. I could about guess what was troublin' him.

So I wasn't much surprised, just before dinner to see Peyton appearin'

at our front gate.

"I--I'm sure I don't know what you'll think of me, Torchy," he begins apologizing "but I--I just had to----"

"Too bad!" says I. "You're only four hours late. Lucy Lee left for Lenox on the 2:10."

"Gone!" says he. "But I thought----"

"Yes, she did plan to stay longer," says I, "but it was a bit slow for her here, and when she got a wire that a certain Captain Wright was to be at his sister's for a few days' furlough--Well, inside of an hour she and her maid had packed and were on their way. Oh, yes, and there goes the rest of Lucy Lee's baggage now."

The express truck was just rollin' around from the side door. Peyton stares at the load goggle-eyed. "But--but you don't mean that all of those trunks are hers?" he demands.

"Uh-huh," says I. "I helped strap 'em up. And one of them wardrobes, Peyton, carries about twenty-five of those little checked dresses. The hats go in the square affair, and the shoes in the steamer trunk.

Thirty-eight pairs, I believe. Just enough for a week-end. Then in that bulgy-topped trunk----"

But Peyton ain't listenin'. He's just standin' there, with a dazed, stunned look in his eyes like he'd just been missed by an express train.

But his lips are movin'. I got the idea. He was doin' mental arithmetic--twenty-five times ninety-three. And he was gettin' a picture of a thousand dollar income lyin' flat on its back.

When he comes to be asks me faint when he can get back to town. No, he won't stay for dinner. "Thank you," says he, "but I couldn't. I'm too much upset. I fear that I--I've made a dreadful mistake, Torchy."

"About Lucy Lee?" says I. "Don't worry. All you've done is come near contributin' another silver frame to her collection. You just happened to find a free field, that's all. Otherwise it would have been a case where you'd stood in line."

Course Peyton don't believe a word of it. He still thinks he's had a desperate affair. He don't know whether he's safe yet or not. All he can see is rows and rows of figures a.s.saultin' that poor little expense book of his. I expect he thinks he's ent.i.tled to wear a wound stripe over his heart.

Yesterday we had a bread-and-b.u.t.ter note from Lucy Lee mostly telling what a whale of a time she was havin' up at Lenox.

"Anything about Peyton?" I asks.

"Why, no," says Vee. "But she says the dear captain is----"

"I know," says I. "Simp-ly wonderful."

CHAPTER XII