"Good!" Michael cried. "Luck's with me." He drained the gla.s.s with the deepest satisfaction. "Ah, that was needed. Now, Monty, after your exertions you won't disappoint me?"

"Not for me, either," Monty exclaimed.

"Splendid," said the gratified Michael. "At your age I would have refused it absolutely." He looked at the gla.s.s affectionately. "I'll take the encore in a few minutes. Alice does cut me down so dreadfully.

Just one light one before dinner--mostly Vermouth--and one drink afterward. I welcome any extra excitement like this."

"Aren't you master in your own house?" Denby asked smiling. He had fathomed the secret of the happy relations of his host and hostess, and was not deceived by Harrington when he represented himself the sport of circ.u.mstances.

"You bet I'm not," said Michael, without resentment. "By the way," he added, "if you want your nightcaps later, ring for Lambart. He's used to being summoned at any hour."

"I won't forget," Denby returned.

"I hope you won't," his host a.s.sured him. "I'd hate to think of Lambart having a really good night's rest." He pointed to an alarm on the wall by the door. "But don't get up half asleep and push that red thing over there."

"What on earth is it?" Monty asked. "It looks like a hotel fire-alarm--'Break the gla.s.s in case of fire.'"

"It's a burglar-alarm that wakes the whole house."

"What?" Denby cried, suddenly interested. "You don't really expect burglars?"

"I know it's funny," Michael said, "and a bit old maidish, but I happen to be vice-president of the New York Burglar Insurance Company, and I've got to have their beastly patents in the house to show my faith in 'em."

"I'll keep away from it," Denby a.s.sured him, looking at it curiously.

"The last man who had this room sent it off by mistake. Said a mosquito worried him so much that he threw a shoe at it. He missed the mosquito--between you and me," Michael said confidentially, "we haven't any out here at Westbury--but he hit the alarm. I'm afraid Hazen had been putting too many nightcaps on his head and couldn't see straight.

Mrs. Harrington made me search the whole house. Of course there wasn't anyone there and Alice seemed sorry that I'd had my hunt in vain. The beauty of these things," the vice-president commented, "is that they warn the burglars to get out and so you don't get shot as you might if you hadn't told 'em you were coming."

Michael took up the second gla.s.s and had barely taken a sip when quick, light footfalls approached.

"Good Lord," said he, "my wife! Here, Monty, quick," placing the half-emptied gla.s.s in Denby's hand and the one from which he had first drunk in Monty's, "I count on you, boys," he whispered, and then strode to the door and flung it open.

"Are we intruders?" his wife asked.

"You are delightfully welcome," Denby cried. "Please come in."

"We thought you'd still be up," Nora explained. "Michael said he was bringing you up some highb.a.l.l.s."

"Great stuff," Monty said, taking his cue, "best whiskey I ever tasted.

Nothing like really old Bourbon after all."

Michael shot a glance of agonized reproach at the man who could make such a stupid mistake. "Monty," he explained to his wife, who had caught this ingenuous remark and had looked at him inquiringly, "is still so filled with excitement that he doesn't know old Scotch when he tastes it."

"Your husband is a n.o.ble abstainer," Denby said quickly, to help them out, "we place temptation right before him and he resists."

"That's my wife's training," said Harrington, smiling complacently.

"I'm not so sure," she returned. "Putting temptation before Michael, Mr.

Denby, shows him just like old Adam--only Michael's weakness is for grapes, not apples."

"We've come," Nora reminded them, "to get a fourth at auction. We're all too much excited to sleep. Mr. Denby, I'm sure you're a wonderful player. Surely you must shine at something."

"Among my other deficiencies," he confessed, "I don't play bridge."

Nora sighed. "There remains only Monty. Monty," she commanded, "you must play."

"Glad to!" he cried. "I like company, and I'm not tired either."

Suddenly he caught sight of Denby's face. His look plainly said, "Refuse."

"In just a few minutes," Monty stammered. "I was just figuring out something when you came in. How long will it take, Steve?"

"Hardly five minutes," Denby said.

"It's a gold-mine you see," Monty explained laboriously, "and first it goes up, and then it goes down."

"I always strike an average," Michael told him. "It's the easiest way."

"Is it a good investment?" Alice demanded. She had a liking for taking small flutters with gold-mines.

"You wouldn't know one if you saw it," her husband said, laughing.

"I learnt what I know from you," she reminded him.

"I'd rather dance than bridge it," Nora said impatiently, doing some rather elaborate maxixe steps very gracefully and humming a popular tune meanwhile.

"Be quiet," Alice warned her; "you'll disturb Ethel."

"Has Miss Cartwright gone to bed?" Denby asked her.

"She felt very tired," Alice explained.

"It's wrong to go to bed so early," Nora exclaimed. "It can't be much after two."

She sang a few bars of another song much in vogue, but Alice stopped her again.

"Hush, Nora, don't you understand Ethel's in the next room asleep, or trying to?"

"I thought it was empty," Nora said, in excuse for her burst of song.

"Ethel insisted on changing. She was very nervous and she wanted to be down near the men in case of trouble."

"And I had to go through forty-seven bunches of keys to get one to fit that door," her husband complained. Denby shot a swift glance toward Monty, who was wearing an "I told you so" expression. "She seemed positively afraid of you, Denby, from what my wife said," Harrington concluded.

"You're not drinking your highball, Mr. Denby," Alice observed.

"I'm saving it," he smiled.

"That's a very obvious hint," Nora cried. "Let's leave them, Alice." She sauntered to the door.